I thought I was a normal human being.
At least, until now—no, until before I was kidnapped here.
But I'm not. I know that now.
The regenerative ability that keeps me from dying, no matter how much I suffer—it's not something any human should have. This power, it's something I didn't have before I came here. Who knows what they did to me? What they injected into my body?
But one thing is certain.
I'm not human anymore.
I can't be. Humans don't regenerate like this. Humans don't come back from having their limbs torn apart.
'I must be some kind of monster in human flesh.'
But it still feels like a nightmare.
No, deep down, I know this is real. It's happening. But I don't want to accept it. I want to believe that this is all just a bad dream.
To hold on to the last bits of my sanity, I need to pretend.
Why am I being held here?
I've asked myself that question a thousand times. I still don't have an answer.
Suddenly, a memory of my grandfather comes rushing back.
[Promise me, my only grandson. Promise me that you'll never show your true nature to anyone.]
My grandfather used to say that all the time. I never really took it seriously. I thought it was just the ramblings of an old man, some strange thing he always muttered.
That was my biggest mistake.
A mistake so huge that even when my body, my soul, is broken, I regret it.
Even in the face of death, my grandfather kept saying those words.
[Cough, cough… Promise me.]
[What do you mean?] I asked, not understanding.
[Never… reveal… your true nature…]
[You should live… a happy and normal life.]
Those were his last words. But I never understood them. Not until now.
I think I understand them now, a little bit.
This ability—this regenerative power. Maybe this is what he meant. But I can't be sure.
I was raised by my grandfather. Not my parents. I was told my father killed my mother and committed suicide soon after I turned two.
They worked as scientists in some government research lab. That's all I know about them. I don't remember their faces.
I don't even feel anything when I think about them—no sadness, no anger. It's like they're strangers to me.
But my grandfather... He was everything. He taught me how to walk, how to talk. He raised me. He was the one who taught me what it means to be human.
[Humans are imperfect beings, a hollow imitation of gods.] He used to say.
[What's that supposed to mean?] I asked, confused.
[Human lives are short, but they shine brighter than the stars in the sky.]
[Humans adapt to the harshest environments and emerge victorious.]
[But gods... gods are beings who even fate fears. They can triumph over death with just the weakest incarnation.]
[Humans have seven desires and five emotions, unlike any other species. We are complex creatures bound by our own belief.]
***
I keep thinking about the promise I made to my grandfather before he passed away. It echoes in my head, over and over.
But I couldn't keep it.
No, it's not that I didn't keep it. It's that couldn't.
-I'm sorry, Grandfather.
But this isn't over. I can't stop until I kill every single bastard who did this to me—who made both you and me suffer so terribly.
Even if it means becoming the very thing you feared.
I was snapped back to the present by a new wave of pain.
My scream ripped through the white room as the blade slashed through me. I looked down and saw it—my own severed flesh, blood gushing from the wound.
"Aaaahhhhh!"
My body convulsed as my mind tried to shut out the pain, but I couldn't escape it. The pain was relentless. It tore through me again and again.
He cut off my dick. I could feel the jagged edges of the knife as it sliced through, but no sooner had it been severed, it started growing back. I could feel the sensation—the skin knitting itself back together, the muscle reforming.
But he wasn't done.
He cut it off again.
And again.
Each time, the pain was just as sharp. Each time, the agony felt fresh, as though my body had never been through this before.
But I regenerated.
Always regenerating.
Time had no meaning anymore. Days, hours—who knew how long I had been in this white, no bloody red hell?
He wasn't done with me yet.
Something cold crawled into my ear. At first, it was just a tickle, then it wriggled deeper. A caterpillar-like insect. I could feel it moving inside my skull, burrowing through my brain. I thrashed against the restraints, screaming, but it was no use.
I couldn't escape.
The insect rampaged through my body. It tore through me from the inside, eating away at my bones, my flesh, my skin.
I could feel it ripping me apart. Piece by piece.
My ribs cracked. My stomach twisted as it gnawed through my intestines. My vision blurred, my entire body convulsing as it came out through different holes in my body.
It crawled out of my eyes, my mouth, my ears.
But it wasn't done.
It kept eating.
The agony was so overwhelming I couldn't even think straight. I couldn't process anything except the unending pain.
-Kwarrrrrr!
I screamed until my throat gave out. Blood gushed from my mouth as my skin tore open again and again, but each time, I regenerated.
I couldn't die.
I couldn't escape.
Somewhere in the haze of pain, I noticed my hair. Once black, it had turned gray.
What was left of it, anyway.
***
The promise I made to my grandfather keeps echoing in my head.
But I couldn't keep it.
I gripped the bones I had torn from my own body and took slow steps forward. The few people still alive looked up at me, their eyes wide with terror.
That fear wasn't unpleasant.
-I'm sorry, Grandfather.
But I can't stop now.
I've become something else.
I've become the very being you feared.