Chapter 3: The Stripping of Identity
The cold stone walls of the cell seemed to close in around him. Theo sat cross-legged, his back pressed against the rough wall, the dim light filtering through a small barred window offering little warmth. His eyes remained closed, but his mind was wide awake. The aching in his body, from the brutal training exercises and the shackles that drained his strength, was a constant reminder of the place he had found himself in.
He could still feel the weight of the glowing shackles on his wrists, each pulsating with an unnatural energy that made his mana feel sluggish, almost as if it were being siphoned away. The chains were designed to weaken him slowly, a subtle torment that kept his power in check while forcing him into submission.
087—that was the name they had given him. It wasn't a name. It was a number. A designation. It was all he had now. The echoes of his true name, Theo Beaumont, seemed further and further away with each passing day. His mind wandered back to the last time he had heard it spoken. He had tried to hold on to it, to keep the essence of who he was alive, but the weight of this place—of the never-ending tests, the brutal discipline, the endless drills—was slowly wearing him down.
---
The sound of footsteps echoed through the narrow hallway outside his cell. He didn't need to look up to know who it was. The door creaked open, and Seraphina entered, her presence as imposing as always. Her dark hair cascaded down her back in perfect waves, her violet eyes cutting through the shadows like a blade. She was always composed, always calculating. There was nothing warm about her—only an unyielding drive to control and manipulate.
"You've been quiet lately, 087," she said, her voice smooth, but with an edge of authority. "I hope you haven't forgotten your place."
Theo looked up at her, his eyes narrowed but calm. He wasn't going to let her see the exhaustion or the frustration that threatened to spill over. "I remember my place," he said, his voice low but steady. "I just don't think you've earned my obedience yet."
Seraphina's lips curled into a small, knowing smile. She leaned down so that her face was mere inches from his, her eyes gleaming with a cold amusement. "You think you're special, don't you?" she whispered, her voice almost seductive in its softness. "You think that your power, your system, will save you. But you're just a tool. A weapon. And like all tools, you'll learn your place soon enough."
Theo gritted his teeth, refusing to let his gaze falter. He would not let her see that her words were getting to him. His fists clenched, but he didn't speak. There was no use. She didn't care about his defiance. She only cared about breaking him.
"Come," she said, her voice turning sharp again. "It's time to test you."
---
The chamber where they took him was unlike anything Theo had ever imagined. The walls were lined with strange symbols, runes that glowed faintly in the dim light. The air felt thick, heavy with an energy he couldn't quite comprehend. As he was strapped into a cold, metallic chair, he felt the familiar buzz of the shackles around his wrists, more intense than before. His breathing quickened as a strange, suffocating pressure began to build within him.
"Do not resist," Seraphina's voice rang out, distant and commanding. "This is for your own good."
Theo glared at her, the pulse of his heartbeat hammering in his chest. He didn't understand what they wanted from him, but he wasn't going to make it easy for them. He refused to let them break him.
A hooded figure stepped forward, chanting words that seemed to echo in Theo's mind, the language foreign and twisted, making the air vibrate with dark power. The runes around the room glowed brighter, and Theo felt a sudden, sharp pain in his chest. It wasn't physical at first, just a strange pressure building inside him, deep in his core. But then it became something far worse.
His breath caught in his throat as a wave of agony rushed through him, as if his very soul was being twisted and torn apart. His body spasmed, the pain rippling through every fiber of his being. He clenched his teeth to keep from crying out. His muscles burned, his vision blurred, and his mind began to spiral as the pressure intensified.
For the first time, his system—a constant companion since his awakening—flickered.
> Warning: System access compromised.
Theo's heart raced. It was as if the very thing that had kept him grounded, the one constant in this nightmare, was slipping away. His system—his link to his powers—was being severed. He gasped for air, struggling against the restraints that held him in place, his skin slick with sweat.
But then, in the midst of his despair, a notification blinked in his vision.
> System access reestablished.
Theo's mind reeled. The pain subsided slightly, but the cold, suffocating feeling lingered. He was too weak to resist. He could feel the shackles, the invisible pull on his powers. They were draining him. He was their experiment now.
Seraphina stood before him, watching with cold, calculating eyes. "You are a fascinating specimen, 087," she said softly, her tone almost amused. "Your powers are like nothing we've ever seen. But you will learn to serve us, just as the others have."
He wanted to scream. He wanted to fight. But he didn't have the strength. Not now. Not yet.
"We're not done," Seraphina continued. "We'll break you, just like the others."
---
Hours passed, or perhaps it was days. Time had lost its meaning. Theo was left alone in his cell once more, his body aching, his mind exhausted. The ordeal had left him drained, but there was something more important than pain, more important than the exhaustion he felt.
His mind burned with a single thought: They haven't broken me yet.
---
As he sat against the wall, staring at the ceiling, his body still trembling, Theo clenched his fists. He wasn't sure how, and he wasn't sure when, but he was going to escape. He had no intention of becoming their weapon.
They had taken his name. They had tried to strip him of his identity. But as long as he could think, as long as he could hold onto the fragments of who he was, he would never be their tool.
The cold of the cell bit at his skin, but it couldn't touch the fire in his heart.