Emern had been staring at the ground, lost in a mixture of dread and frustration, when the guard's hand gripped his wrist without warning. The cold iron shackles loomed ominously, but there was no reasoning or exchange, no justification. The guard's face was expressionless, cold, and mechanical—this was not a man of law or duty. This was someone who took sadistic pleasure in subjugating the weak. Emern, still not fully comprehending the twisted laws of this world, jolted in response.
With a sharp instinct honed from years of survival in the human element, Emern twisted his body and slammed his elbow squarely into the guard's face. He felt bone crunch beneath his blow, the guard's head snapping back with a grunt of pain. For a fleeting moment, Emern thought he had acted wisely. But his triumph was short-lived.
The world around him seemed to freeze in place. Realization set in almost immediately: this was not his world. He bowed instinctively, trying to mitigate the impending consequences, but it was too late. The guard's wrath was instant. A blow landed across Emern's back with bone-rattling force, knocking him to his knees. Pain surged through him, a reminder of his vulnerability here.
The shackles clamped tightly around his wrists, cold and unyielding. With a fierce tug, the guard dragged him along, ignoring the struggle of resistance. Emern's mind raced as he tried to summon his abilities. Soul Reversal, he willed, attempting to unlock his innate powers. He felt the usual flicker of energy deep within him but nothing manifested. His soul manipulation, his martial arts—everything he had come to rely on—was gone.
He cursed under his breath, and for that, the guard cuffed him harshly on the side of his head. The sharp sting left his ears ringing, but it wasn't just the physical pain that unsettled him. It was the cold realization that he had no control, no power in this place.
Hours passed in agonizing silence after he was thrown into the damp cell. The guard returned, writing something on a piece of parchment with mechanical indifference. Emern squinted through the low light, trying to make out the words.
"Execution Chamber Subject, Reason — Resistance and Accidental Assault."
Emern's heart skipped a beat. Execution? For a moment of resistance? A reflexive elbow? The absurdity of it was overwhelming. He let out a bark of laughter, though it was laced with bitterness. This place, this twisted kingdom, played by rules he didn't understand. The weight of his fate sank deeper into his chest. The walls of the cell seemed to close in on him as the reality set in.
He wasn't ready to die. Not like this. Not in this cursed place.
"NO!" Emern screamed, his voice echoing off the stone walls. It was a primal sound, filled with desperation. Within moments, the guard appeared again, his expression dark. Without hesitation, he slapped Emern hard across the face, the sharp sting leaving Emern's cheek burning. The guard left without another word, the heavy iron door slamming shut with a metallic clang.
Emern sat back against the cold, rough wall of the cell, the taste of iron thick on his tongue from where his teeth had cut into his lip. His body trembled—not from the cold, but from fear. He was trapped. Unarmed, powerless, and doomed. He pulled his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them as he sank further into despair.
His mind raced, searching for solutions, for a way out. But no amount of planning or mental discipline could dull the edge of terror that gnawed at him. He was going to die. The fear was all-consuming, a shadow that slithered around his consciousness, suffocating any hope he had left.
How had it come to this?
His past life played out in fragmented flashes. He had faced death before. He had survived impossible odds. But here, in this foreign world, that resilience, that hardened shell, was crumbling. His thoughts spiraled. The execution would be swift, and all because of a simple resistance. It felt unjust, meaningless. Damn this world, he thought bitterly. Damn its twisted rules.
For the next few hours, Emern barely moved. He sat, curled up in the corner of his cell, trying to block out the gnawing fear that plagued his every thought. He thought of the criminals back in his old world, men who had robbed and murdered, only to rot away in their cells. They didn't understand true fear. The fear that comes when death is not just a possibility but an absolute certainty.
No, the only ones who could understand him were buried deep beneath the earth, their bodies either rotted or burnt away. Dead and forgotten, just like he would soon be.
Emern let out a shaky breath, trying to steel himself. It's just death, he thought, though the words rang hollow. You've faced death before. You've already gone through it.
But this wasn't the same. This death felt final. Real.
He gritted his teeth, his body shuddering from the sheer intensity of his fear. He cursed himself over and over, hating his weakness. He was supposed to be brave, to face this with the same defiance that had kept him alive all these years. But no matter how hard he tried, the terror wouldn't leave him.
Suddenly, a booming sound shattered the oppressive silence.
BOOM!
An alarm blared, its deafening wail cutting through the stillness. The room bathed in red light, the harsh glow casting eerie shadows across the stone walls. Emern shot upright, his heart pounding. The alarm was relentless, screaming danger with every pulse.
Panic gripped him once more. What was happening? Was this the moment they were coming for him? Was this the end? His mind raced as he tried to understand. The guards hadn't spoken of anything like this. Could it be an attack? A coup? An uprising?
He cursed under his breath again, the red light flashing in rhythm with his escalating fear. The screeching alarm only made his heart pound harder, each beat threatening to break his chest open. He stumbled to his feet, his legs shaky and weak from hours of being curled up on the cold floor.
But this wasn't the execution. It couldn't be. Something far worse was at play.
Emern's thoughts spiraled wildly. Terrorists? Protesters? No, something darker.
The noise, the alarm, the red light—it wasn't meant to warn of human threats. This was something beyond political conflict, beyond rebellion. Monsters. He felt it in his bones, a primal fear, more intense than any he'd felt before.
Whatever was coming, it wasn't here to save anyone. It wasn't here to liberate. Emern's blood ran cold as he realized—this was a force of destruction, a force of death.
The ground trembled beneath his feet.
This world had its own rules, its own demons. And they were coming for them all.