The moment that name was spoken, the expressions of both No. 1 and the Master's faces darkened like storm clouds.
"I warned you," the Master said, his voice cutting through the air like ice, "not to utter his name so carelessly."
No. 1 hesitated before speaking. "Master, I'll go and bring that child here myself."
The Master shook his head. "No. It's unnecessary. I'll observe the others as well."
---
Batch No. 1 stood before me, his face desperate. "Hey, kid... about the negotiation. Have you decided?"
I gave him a single nod, with a blank expression.
After a moment of hesitation, he stepped closer and handed over his batch. "Now, undo this thing."
Without a word, I walked to the center of the circle. My voice carried over the murmuring crowd, cold and final. "Step outside the circle. All of you ! "
The people exchanged defiant glances, but I sighed, feeling my patience thinning. "If you want to undo the devices, step outside. Otherwise, stay and live with them."
The crowd fell silent. Hesitating, they eventually moved out of the circle.
Once they'd complied, I bit my finger deep enough to draw blood. I began writing strange symbols on the ground, muttering under my breath as I worked.
"What's he doing?" someone whispered. "Is he spilling his blood for some ritual?"
A man with a scholarly air stepped forward, his gentle voice cutting through the murmurs. "Kid, can you tell us what those symbols mean? How do you even know them?"
I glanced at the scholar, surprised. "You recognize these symbols?"
The scholar shook his head. "Not entirely. I remember fragments bits of them intrigued me, but I could never make sense of them. Can you explain what they mean?"
I paused, feeling my expression darken. "Don't try to understand everything. Some things aren't meant to be understood. The more you know, the heavier the burden, and the heavier the burden, the greater the sadness."
The scholar tilted his head, intrigued. "Sadness caused by knowledge? You speak as though you've lived through decades of experience those words don't suit a child like you."
My eyes turned colder. "Sometimes, age doesn't define kindness or cruelty. It's not experience that makes someone cruel it's understanding their nature."
The scholar smiled faintly. "Understanding cruelty, you say? You seem to know much about it. But know this... the real cruelty begins when you have something precious to protect, when you see it taken from you piece by piece. Then you'll understand the true meaning of cruelty."
My blank face remained unmoved. "Cruelty means nothing to me. It never has."
The scholar chuckled, though his smile didn't reach his eyes. "Even if your eyes are dead, even if you feel nothing, we're all the same in some way..."
Ignoring him, I returned to my work, my movements deliberate—nothing like a child.
"How much longer will this take?" the scholar asked, curiosity mixed with impatience.
"I'm piecing together fragments of a book," I replied flatly.
"What book?"
I stopped writing momentarily. "Do I need to explain everything to you?" I exhaled, my tone sharp. "The writings on these walls they form a book. If arranged in sequence, they reveal the story of a man called 'The First Heaven.'"
The scholar's expression turned to shock. "The First Heaven? And what does this book say?"
I hesitated, my voice lower. "It holds the method to undo these devices. His life. And... a way to escape this place."
My voice turned cold again. "No. 2, start a countdown from ten."
No. 2 scowled. "Who do you think you are, ordering me around? Show some respect—"
I cut him off. "It's the final step. If you delay, it'll be too late. The Master will return any second."
Before anyone could argue further, a one-armed man shouted, "Do as he says! Start the countdown!"
No. 2 reluctantly began. "Ten... nine... eight..."
As the countdown continued, I felt the symbols on the circle begin to stir. The ground beneath me seemed to come alive, the letters curling and twisting like serpents as they slithered toward me. I could feel them cold and unnatural crawling up my legs, wrapping themselves around my skin like burning chains.
My face twisted in pain as the letters burrowed into my flesh. The symbols didn't just crawl; they invaded, seeping beneath my skin, biting into my bones. Each movement felt like a thousand needles digging into my body. My legs trembled as I fought to keep myself steady, but the symbols didn't relent. They moved up, higher, toward my torso, wrapping around my ribs, twisting through my muscles. My body felt like it was being split open, every inch of my skin raw and burning.
I clenched my teeth so hard I could feel them threatening to crack, but the pain... the pain was overwhelming. It was as if the letters themselves were tearing me apart from the inside, and yet, there was nowhere to escape.
With every second that passed, the agony intensified. It felt like my spine was being cracked like a whip, the symbols winding tighter and tighter around my ribs until I could no longer breathe. My chest tightened, air forced from my lungs with each breath, and still, they crawled every inch of me consumed by the horrible sensation.
I could hear my own heartbeat thudding in my ears, but it wasn't enough to drown out the sickening sound of my bones breaking beneath the force of the symbols' crawl. Every movement was excruciating, like an iron claw digging into my very marrow. My muscles spasmed involuntarily, each twitch of my body feeling like I was being pulled apart at the seams.
My lips were cracked, my skin slick with sweat as my body writhed in agony. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the pain, but it only made it worse. Why couldn't I scream? Why couldn't I fight back? Every nerve in my body screamed in protest, but I held my breath, fighting to keep the desperation at bay. If I screamed now, everything I'd done would've been for nothing.
The symbols reached my chest, and with every inch they moved, it felt like the skin on my body was being peeled back. My muscles burned as if they were being slowly roasted over an open fire. The pain was so sharp it was unbearable, but it was the crawling sensation the way the symbols seemed to burrow deeper into my flesh that made me want to lose my mind.
I can't let them see me break.
I pressed my teeth harder against my lips, biting down so hard that blood began to spill from the corners of my mouth. The pain was unrelenting, the pressure on my bones and muscles almost unbearable. My mind began to blur, but still, the symbols crawled always crawling, always pulling at me, tearing at me.
My body felt like it was cracking under the weight of the symbols' presence, the pressure too much to withstand. This is the price, I thought faintly the price for freedom.
My legs finally gave out beneath me, and I collapsed onto the ground, my body shaking uncontrollably. The symbols had reached my neck, and the pressure was unbearable. It was like being drowned in a sea of fire, every breath coming slower, more labored. My skin had gone pale, my body covered in sweat as if I'd been submerged in boiling water.
But still, the symbols crawled, the last of them creeping toward my throat. I fought to stay conscious, to stay in control, but the pain was too much. A low, guttural sound escaped from deep within me, the closest thing to a scream my body would allow. My hands clawed at the ground beneath me, nails digging into the dirt as I tried to anchor myself, but it was useless.
Then, suddenly, the pain stopped.
A crackling sound filled the air as the glowing symbols began to fade, their grip on me loosening. The feeling of something crawling inside my body faded away, leaving me gasping for air. My chest heaved, each breath coming shallow and sharp, but I was still alive.
For a moment, everything around me seemed to blur as I fought to clear my vision. My body was battered, broken, but it was still whole. I'd survived.
I struggled to rise, my limbs weak and trembling, but I stood. My body ached as if it'd been through hell and back, but my mind my mind was as cold and empty as ever.
The Master entered the scene, his gaze immediately locking onto the glowing circle. "What's going on here?" he demanded.
No. 1 waved his hand, effortlessly throwing half the crowd aside. As he stepped closer to me, he paused, noticing the symbols.
"Kid, what are you doing in that circle?"
The Master's expression darkened further. "That light... I know it. How is this possible?"
Before anyone could react, the circle cracked with a deafening sound, and the light vanished. I collapsed to my knees, breathing heavily. The glowing symbols remained etched into my skin.
The Master turned to No. 1. "Test him. Don't kill him. I need to confirm something."
No. 1 was suddenly behind me, blade drawn. He swung, but his strike passed through air.
I turned, my voice calm despite my exhaustion. "Are you done?"
The Master's eyes narrowed. "You... you activated that circle. Do you even know the consequences of your actions?"
I stared blankly. "I did what was necessary. I read the writings of the First Heaven. I followed his instructions."
"You learned that language in one night? Memorized the sequence in mere hours?" the Master muttered, astonished. "You... may surpass even me."
"Kid," the Master said, his tone deadly, "what do you call your actions? Do you understand the weight of what you've done?"
I was silent for a moment, then replied coldly, "They would call it cruelty—inhuman or maniac. To me, it's just survival. Nothing more than that."
The Master's lips curled into a faint smirk. "Cruel words for a child..."
My voice was a cold whisper, like someone who'd seen too much. My words, though simple, carried a sharp bitterness that echoed in the silence of that place.
"So tell me, what's the difference? If someone kills a human who's committed murder killed countless people they'll praise that person for killing the murderer, for ridding the world of evil. But if that same person kills an innocent one for the sake of another, then they're branded a murderer. What's the difference? The blood spilled from a murderer or not they're the same, yet society chooses to glorify one and demonize the other. Why? Why is one life considered valuable and the other disposable?"
My eyes were dead, locked onto his. My voice hardened, a bitter edge creeping into my tone.
"The truth is, blood never had a meaning of crime or justice. Blood only holds one meaning that is to keep flowing in the body of the living. Society has twisted its meaning, manipulated it to suit their own needs. They call it beautiful when it flows for a cause they deem worthy, but they forget it's all the same. Whether it's spilled in a battle or in silence, it's still just blood. And I've never belonged to a society that pretends it means anything more than that, and I never shall."
I paused, my words lingering in the air like a dark truth no one wanted to face. The silence was deafening, filled only by the weight of my gaze.
The Master's unease deepened. "You speak as though you've rejected the very idea of humanity."
My voice was quiet, but ice-cold. "Humanity never mattered to me. I will kill... and kill for me. Only my survival matters."
The Master's expression hardened. "And what are you surviving for?"
My gaze burned with quiet determination. "Whatever I must..."