Accompanied by the ever-graceful maid assigned to him, Tyler returned to his dorm room.
She followed behind quietly, her posture straight and her expression calm.
"Does the young lord require anything?" she asked, standing still with her hands folded neatly before her.
Her tone was polite, professional, and completely neutral.
"I don't think I need anything right now," Tyler replied, scratching his cheek awkwardly.
His face was slightly red, and he couldn't bring himself to look her directly in the eyes.
He started toward his bed, ready to throw himself into the soft sheets, but paused midway. "Wait," he called, stopping the maid before she could leave.
"As someone who's supposed to serve me," he said, hesitating, "you don't… find me disappointing, do you?"
He remembered kneeling before John earlier that day, humiliated, powerless, and ashamed.
Tyler couldn't blame her if she looked down on him.
The maid bowed her head slightly. "I am but a servant appointed to serve you. What you choose to do or how you act is not for me to judge. I have no say in your choices."
Tyler sighed. "You could've just said yes or no," he muttered under his breath.
He waved her off and watched as she quietly left the room.
Alone again, he sat on the edge of his bed, deep in thought.
The day had been long and exhausting. Between the sudden summoning, meeting King Elias, and hearing about their supposed purpose, Tyler's mind was full.
Still, something about the king's words bothered him.
He said all twenty of them were "heroes." But that didn't make sense.
Twenty heroes?
Tyler frowned. "That's too many," he muttered to himself.
He could understand one hero. Maybe even five working together. But twenty? That didn't sound right.
It made the title hero feel… ordinary. Like something anyone could be.
Shouldn't heroes be rare? he wondered. Special?
Maybe he was just overthinking it.
Tyler couldn't prove anything, and suspicion wouldn't help him now. So he decided to let it go.
He stretched his legs and lay back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. "At least I'm one of them," he said softly. "If I work hard enough, I'll become stronger, strong enough to stand as their equal."
Right now, he wasn't much of anything. Just that guy, the one everyone ignored, or worse, pitied. In John's eyes, he was barely human.
But Tyler was determined to change that.
He didn't want to live in anyone's shadow again. He wanted to stand beside his classmates as an equal, not as a tool.
Maybe his goal was small. Maybe it was naive. But to him, it meant everything.
"I'll do whatever it takes," he whispered. "As long as it doesn't go against what's right."
He closed his eyes, exhaustion pulling him down. His body felt heavy. The soft bed seemed to swallow him whole. Within moments, he drifted off into a deep sleep.
Pain!
Tyler's eyes shot open, his head pounding like it had been split apart. His body screamed in agony. Every muscle burned, every breath felt sharp.
He tried to move but couldn't.
His arms were stretched upward, wrists bound by cold iron chains hanging from the ceiling. His legs barely touched the ground, his body dangling helplessly in the air.
He blinked through the darkness.
The room was cold, stone-walled, and windowless.
The faint smell of dampness and metal filled the air. Iron bars lined the entrance.
"This isn't my room…" he whispered hoarsely.
It wasn't a room at all. It was a cell.
His heart raced. "Where am I?!"
The last thing he remembered was lying down. He'd fallen asleep… and now, here he was.
Before he could think further, the sound of footsteps echoed from the corridor.
From the shadows emerged Great Magus Gulepas, followed by several robed figures, his assistants. The sight filled Tyler with both hope and confusion.
"Great Magus! Thank God you're here!" Tyler cried. "I don't know what happened. I slept, and when I woke up, I was just..."
Tyler talked, the Great Magus didn't respond. He didn't even look at Tyler. His face was calm, focused, cold.
"Get to work," Gulepas ordered.
His assistants moved immediately. One of them knelt down and began drawing a large circle on the floor beneath Tyler.
Strange symbols filled the design, glowing faintly in the dim light.
Another assistant unsheathed a knife. The sound of metal scraping echoed through the room.
Tyler's stomach dropped. "Wh-what are you doing?" he stammered. "Great Magus, what's going on?"
He got no answer.
The assistant stepped forward and... He slashed.
The blade cut across Tyler's bare chest, deep and clean.
"Ahhh!" Tyler screamed, his voice raw from pain.
The sting was unbearable, the sharp bite of steel tearing through his flesh, the hot rush of blood spilling down his skin.
The assistant didn't stop. Another slash came, then another.
Tyler thrashed in his chains, struggling to breathe through the pain. Each movement made the wounds burn even more.
The Great Magus and his followers began chanting in a strange language. The words were foreign, inhuman, like whispers of an ancient curse.
Tyler couldn't understand them, but deep down, he knew. Whatever they were doing, it wasn't normal.
His blood dripped down his body, falling one drop at a time into the circle below. The glowing lines drank it eagerly, spreading red light through the patterns on the floor.
More cuts followed. More chanting. The air grew heavy with the scent of iron and blood.
The pain blurred his vision, but he could still see his own blood moving like it had a mind of its own. It flowed through the symbols, connecting them, completing the ritual.
Finally, when the circle was fully covered in blood, Great Magus Gulepas reached into his robe and pulled out a small golden cup.
He handed it to one of his followers.
The assistant raised his hand, chanting softly. The blood on the floor began to rise, floating upward in streams before pouring neatly into the cup.
When it was full, Gulepas smiled. A deep, satisfied smile.
"Good," he said. "With this, we can nurture the three superior physiques to perfection."
Tyler's eyes widened in horror. His voice was weak, barely a whisper. "What… are you… talking about…?"
But they didn't hear him. Or maybe they simply didn't care.
The Great Magus turned and left the cell with his followers, the golden cup safely in hand.
The iron door slammed shut behind them.
Tyler hung there in silence, barely conscious, his body covered in blood and cuts. His breaths came out shallow and ragged.
He was fucked!