All of it—every agonizing moment—was a result of the countless rituals they forced upon me in the name of awakening. I had become a reservoir of spiritual energy, a wellspring of power that they desperately wanted to tap into. When my father was confronted about compensating the nobles for their investments in my awakening, he didn't hesitate. He simply handed me over to them, transforming me into a grotesque shadow of my former self, a mutated zombie, barely clinging to life.
Thanks to a cabal of necromancers, my core began to grow uncontrollably, twisted and corrupted beyond recognition. In the dark, damp basements of noble estates, they sliced into it with light magic, tearing it apart piece by piece for months on end, each cut a brutal reminder of my worth to them. The nobles who had funded my torment reveled in their gains, feasting on my suffering as they devoured my mana core, each one gaining levels and strength at the cost of my own soul.
They took turns keeping me captive, dragging me from one basement to another, their twisted games played out in the shadows. The soul-piercing pain became my constant companion, a relentless torment that invaded my every waking moment and tainted my dreams. Their laughter echoed in my ears as I suffered day and night, my essence consumed, leaving me hollow and broken. I had become a mere tool, a source of power for those who should have protected me, reduced to a vessel of torment as they fed off my pain and despair, until eventually, my mana core was completely devoured by their insatiable greed.
There...
ZZZZZZZ...TTTTTT
It was as if the TV had lost its signal; Ren's consciousness fragmented into a chaotic whirl of distorted images, jittering beyond comprehension. Silence reigned, an oppressive void where sound should have been, amplifying the unsettling tension. Slowly, fragmented visions began to materialize, revealing a boy who bore an unsettling resemblance to him, dragged along by a chain attached to a collar around his neck, unconscious and utterly vulnerable.
With a heavy thud, the boy was unceremoniously tossed into a dimly lit room. Shadows enveloped the space, hiding the features of a girl clad in ragged clothes that barely covered her skin. Her pink hair framed a face marred by dirt, and her blue eyes shimmered with a mixture of fear and desperation, but the blurriness of the image rendered her unrecognizable.
The scenes shifted slowly, each transition jarring and unsettling. In the next vision, the boy and girl struggled to lift heavy stones in a grimy mine, their labors a testament to their shared misery. Hope flickered for a moment as they worked side by side, yet that flicker quickly turned to darkness when a whip cracked across the boy's back, sending him sprawling to the ground, gasping in pain. A large man loomed over him, his mouth moving in silent rage, but Ren could only see the chaos through a haze.
The next image revealed the girl leaning closer to the boy, sharing her meager meal—a single piece of bread—her eyes filled with warmth as she tried to uplift him, though the burden of their shared suffering was evident. But that moment of tenderness quickly faded, replaced by an even darker scene.
Now, the girl was massaging the boy's hands while he slept, a fleeting gesture of care amidst their torment. However, the serenity was shattered as the vision morphed again, plunging into brutality. Both children were beaten mercilessly, their cries lost to the suffocating silence. The girl's hair was gripped tightly in a rough hand, yanking her toward a carriage with iron bars. Desperation etched her features, but the image was too distorted to capture her agony fully.
Then the boy was taken away, this time without the collar. He was handed over to a figure standing before an imposing mansion, the scene unfolding with deliberate slowness, yet still cloaked in blur. An old man stroked his head with unsettling gentleness while a small girl clung to him, her face hidden in his side as they led him away, a fragile comfort in a world turned upside down.
Suddenly, as if snuffed out by an unseen force, all light faded into darkness, leaving Ren trapped in an eerie void where nothing existed but the chilling silence of despair. The faces and moments lingered in his mind, forever distorted and unrecognizable, haunting him like shadows that refused to fade.
Suddenly, a voice pierced the suffocating silence, echoing through the void with a profound emptiness. It was a voice that had lost all hope, a weary remnant of a once-vibrant soul.
"I failed in my life... not because I couldn't awaken... not due to a lack of talent... not because I lost my wives... but simply because I failed to save Lilly. She was the only one who could bring even the slightest smile to my face amidst the hellish torture....I sacrificed my soul to the abyss for you to gain this power.
So, don't mourn for me, nor feel guilty for enjoying the fruits of my torment; my soul has long gone numb from the pain I endured. But if you truly wish to honor my sacrifice, then save Lilly—if she still breathes. And if you do... tell her... 'thank you.'"
With those final, haunting words, the voice faded into the void, leaving only the weight of despair lingering in the air.
Ren, once again, began to feel the silk blanket, fesh air gushing in his room and cheerping of birds in the garden.
_____________________
A few minutes later, a teen boy stood by the window. His messy black hair flopped into his dark brown eyes, giving him a scruffy, almost careless look. His face was soft, kind of boyish, with no sharp edges, and his lips had that usual half-bored, half-whatever expression. He was slim, his narrow shoulders making him seem smaller than he really was—easy to miss in a crowd.
'I don't even know who she was... where they took her... or who the hell even took her. How the heck am I supposed to find her?'
He stared out at the busy city below, packed with people, like he was expecting it to give him some kind of answer. When nothing came, he sighed, almost laughing at himself.
"...I can't do anything about it right now, can I?"
He lifted his hands slowly, like he could catch the sun if he just reached far enough. And remembered the words of the real owner of the body, Ren Valtheria,
"You know why they say truth wins over evil? It's 'cause, in the end, it doesn't matter who wins—the winner is the truth. What really matters isn't people, or loyalty, or love, or justice... it's all about power, man. The power you've got in your hands... that's what counts. Remember that."
With furrowed brows, determined eyes, and a serious expression, he muttered under his breath,
"Yes, I. DO. REMEMBER."
Suddenly, a notification pinged in his mind.
[Host has received a gift package upon System initialization. Do you want to open it? Yes/No]
___________________________
(AIN: Hey, wonderful readers! I hope you're enjoying the journey so far. Your feedback means the world to me, so please drop a comment to share your thoughts, theories, or what you'd like to see next! Consider donating power stones if you feel generous and want to support my work. They help me keep the creative juices flowing and bring you even more exciting content. I appreciate your support.)