Where the hell am I
My eyes flicker open, and the first thing I notice is the bright, sterile ceiling above me. The light is soft, diffused, yet it feels oddly intrusive, like it's piercing through my skull. I shift slightly, and the sensation of softness beneath me catches me off guard. The bed feels too comfortable, the sheets too clean. This is nothing like the cramped, filthy places I'm used to.
is this... a hospital
I take in the room around me everything looks pristine, almost unnaturally so. Medical equipment lines the walls, and there's a table beside me with various bottles and syringes. The faint scent of antiseptic lingers in the air, but something feels off. My body is still, and my mind races with confusion. The last thing I remember is that man that sadistic bastard his twisted smile as he tortured me, the excruciating pain from the Cruciatus curse.
I should be dead.
I remember the pain vividly, every nerve in my body screaming in agony. But even as the curse tore through me, there was only one thing on my mind killing him. I refused to beg, refused to give him the satisfaction. My will, my arrogance those were the only things keeping me from breaking.
Anger flares up within me, his eyes become glowing crimson if he had a mirror too look he would see his eyes which were little silver coloured but now irris is mix of 90 percent red and somthing mix with little silver sparkle making his eyes look more imtemidating
it was hot and consuming, and suddenly everything around me blurs. My vision turns crimson, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. There's a fire inside me, something primal and unyielding. I feel the rage coursing through my veins, but I don't understand why, or where it's coming from.
What the hell is happening to me
Before I can make sense of it, the door to the room swings open. A nurse steps in, but the moment she sees me, our eyes meet for a second after her eyes widen in shock she felt a fear a primal fear. Without a word, she backs out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her. I hear her hurried footsteps echoing down the hallway, the sound fading quickly.
What's going on
suddenly that feeling wears off I push myself up, muscles protesting with a dull ache, but I'm no longer paralyzed by the heat that surged through me. My mind is still racing, trying to piece together the events that led me here. Before I can get anywhere, the door opens again, and this time, three figures enter the room.
The first is a woman with striking green hair, wearing a white doctor's coat. She walks in with a calm, professional air, but the two women behind her are different. They're dressed in dark uniforms, each with a stern expression that betrays no emotion. Their presence is almost oppressive, and it doesn't take long for me to recognize the emblem on their uniforms the World Magic Authority (WPA).
What the hell are they doing here
The green-haired doctor reaches my bedside, offering a small, cautious smile as she checks the machines around me. "How are you feeling she asks softly, her voice gentle and measured.
I try to speak, but my throat feels raw, like I've been screaming for hours. The doctor seems to notice my discomfort and nods with understanding, her eyes reflecting a mix of concern and something else... something darker.
"You've been through something terrible," she says, her voice dropping to a near whisper. Her gaze flickers to the WPA officers, who stand at attention, their eyes never leaving me. "Your injuries were severe... and the Cruciatus curse..." she trails off, her hands trembling slightly. The mere mention of the curse seems to send a shiver down her spine, and she swallows hard, fear evident in her wide eyes.
The room feels colder suddenly, the tension so thick it's almost suffocating. The officers, too, react visibly to the word. The first one, a tall woman with short-cropped brown hair and sharp, angular features, stiffens. Her mouth sets into a grim line, and her eyes darken with a mix of shock and disbelief. The second officer, a younger woman with long black hair pulled into a tight ponytail, glances at her colleague, her brow furrowed in concern. Her lips press together tightly, and there's a flash of something like dread in her gaze as she looks back at me.
Both of them are clearly unsettled, and they can see it in the way they stand a little straighter, their expressions more guarded. The Cruciatus curse it's nearly forbidden, the stuff of nightmares. Even the mention of it is enough to strike fear into the hearts of most people. And yet, here he is, alive, they looked at him as he is some kind of moster but they are sure it must be just for seconds or something because its impossible unless he have some kind of relic and artifact but looking at boys background its not possible
"Impossible," the black-haired officer mutters under her breath, barely loud enough for me to catch. She exchanges a quick, uneasy glance with the other officer, who narrows her eyes at me, suspicion clear on her face. It's like they can't believe what they're seeing.
The doctor nods, almost to herself, as if confirming something. "Your body... it's healed on the outside," she explains, her voice trembling as she forces the words out. "But internally, the damage is... extensive. The curse... it damaged your mana threads are... scarred. It's... likely permanent."
She pauses, her eyes full of pity, which only makes me more furious. I don't want her pity. I want answers.
"What do you mean?" I manage to croak, my voice hoarse and broken.it was not surprising that i cant use magic but i was never able to even before this accident so what are they talking about i thought to myself inside
The doctor's face hardens with an effort to stay composed. "The curse didn't just cause pain," she continues, her tone serious, "It was meant to break you, to make you beg for death. Most people... even B or A-rankers... would have. But you... you survived."
I can see the disbelief in their eyes, the way they're all looking at me like I'm some sort of anomaly.
"You shouldn't be alive," the brown-haired officer says flatly, her voice tinged with incredulity. "No one... no one survives the Cruciatus curse, not without begging for death. And certainly not a boy your age not even for 10 seconds."not without a help of artifact or relics since only those things have that much ability to save somone from one of the forbidden spells for torturing on top third of ranking list
Her words hit me hard, but I can't help but feel a surge of pride alongside the confusion. I didn't break. I didn't beg. But... why? How did I survive? The memory of that final moment the sting in my finger, the surge of power through my body flashes through my mind. Did something change? Did that power save me?no i survived on my own it was all me my own will and it was not for seconds it was minutes a whole 16 minutes i thought to myself but its not a thing to be proud of sighhh
The doctor looks at me, her eyes softening with a mix of sorrow and curiosity. "We believe... it might have been some kind of artifact or relic," she says cautiously. "It's the only explanation we can think of... but even then, it's unheard of. You should be dead, but you're not. And now... your magic, if you ever had any, is likely gone. The damage from the Cruciatus curse is irreversible."
She steps back, the air heavy with the weight of her words. The officers exchange another look, their expressions grim and serious. They're clearly on edge, their curiosity about how I survived nearly overshadowed by their wariness. The doctor turns back to them, a flash of determination in her eyes.
"We need to ask you some questions," the black-haired officer says, her voice sharp but careful, "But we'll take it slow. We don't want to overwhelm you after everything you've been through."
The doctor doesn't seem to appreciate the officer's tone, and she steps in front of me, her eyes hardening. "I'm staying here during the questioning," she says firmly, "If he shows any signs of distress, you will stop immediately. He's been through enough."
The officers hesitate but eventually nod, their expressions a mix of frustration and reluctant agreement. The doctor's presence is the only thing that keeps the tension in the room from snapping, but even her calm demeanor can't erase the sense of unease that lingers in the air.
They're all so afraid, so damn cautious... but why am I the one who feels like something's changed?
I survived something that should have killed me. But what happens now? What did that power do to me, and why am I still alive?
I need to find out.