Seiya's eyes flickered within their sockets, his pupils darting as he tried to process the horrifying scene before him.
His vision swam, blurring and clearing in turns, the gravity of the moment numbing him at first, only for pain and clarity to seep in, drawing a guttural scream from deep within him.
Seiya's eyes rolled back, exposing only the whites, his mouth agape, and his body seizing and frozen as if gripped by death itself.
Half-formed thoughts looped in his mind, like the disjointed fragments of a broken record—his mind raced, thoughts breaking apart, fragments barely connecting as if he were a machine caught in static.
"Huh?....Why?....What?....Why?.....Father?....Why?"
Agonizing pain throbbed through him, making even the act of breathing torturous.
He forced himself to breathe shallowly, his open mouth gasping for air. Yet, every breath scraped against his insides, and blood trickled from his nose as he struggled for oxygen.
Standing above him, his father wore a smile that stretched wide, eyes gleaming with perverse delight as he watched his son writhe in agony.
"Hah! So that's what you sound like when you scream. That's what pain does to you. Fascinating, truly fascinating!" His laughter rang through the room, a twisted symphony of pleasure derived from his son's suffering.
"Stay down now," he taunted, voice thick with mockery, "or your insides might just come spilling out." His laughter spiraled, and though it sounded mocking, there was truth in his words.
"Cry more! Scream louder!" he demanded, pressing down on Seiya's exposed abdomen.
Seiya's anguished cries filled the room, rising in pitch and volume, feeding his father's twisted pleasure.
As he observed Seiya, he continued, his voice laced with disdain. "When you were born, I realized quickly you were a failure among my other children—a disgrace to be cast aside, an embarrassment to my legacy. Someone like you doesn't belong in my family."He sneered, his tone laced with satisfaction.
A dark amusement flickered in his father's eyes.
"You were always strange. No matter how harshly I treated you, you never shed a tear, never cried out. Always enduring it all, stoic as if you were some indomitable hero" he scoffed.
"That defiance irked me. But look at you now—screaming, breaking. As I suspected, even the strongest will falters under real pain" He laughed, savoring his victory in breaking Seiya's will.
He stood over him, unmoving, watching his son's agony as if savoring a fine wine.
"Would you like to hear something interesting?" He leaned in, an eerie smile spreading across his face.
"This room is soundproof. No one can hear you, no matter how loud you scream. It's like you're suffering in silence." His laughter echoed, filling the void of Seiya's despair.
He gestured upwards, pressing a button that revealed a large mirror on the ceiling, reflecting Seiya's bloodied, pain-racked form back at him.
Seiya's vision, already dimmed by pain and blood loss, only just managed to capture the blurry image of himself in the mirror above.
When his father had finally drunk his fill of the scene, he spoke again. "Alright, Seiya, I'm going to leave you here to fend for yourself. Let's see how much you can endure. Prove to me that you can survive." He patted Seiya's rigid, broken body on the table. "Good luck."
Then he walked out, leaving Seiya alone in a pool of his own blood, his stomach torn open, forced to either succumb or claw his way back to life.
With each passing second, Seiya's heartbeat slowed, the agony dulled, not from relief but from his body slipping into numbness and his senses shutting down—death crept ever closer.
Minutes passed, yet Seiya clung stubbornly to life, though his consciousness was fraying.
His pupils rolled back, eyelids heavy, each breath so faint it seemed he had already crossed over.
He heard nothing, saw only darkness.
After a time, his father returned with a colleague.
"Oh? You're still hanging on. Impressive. But look at you—already at death's door" his father remarked, attaching a heart monitor.
The rhythm of Seiya's heartbeat slowed steadily and his father's smile widened as his son edged closer to oblivion.
The colleague, glancing at the monitor's grim readings and shifting uneasily, asked, "Shouldn't we do something? He's on the verge of death."
Ignoring him, Seiya's father took a step closer to Seiya's trembling form.
Leaning down, he whispered, "Before you give up, Seiya, just know your mother might be somewhere going through something similar, or maybe searching frantically for you." He chuckled, the sound soft and cruel.
His voice softened into a whisper. "Imagine how heartbroken she'll be when she learns of your death."
At those words, the heart monitor abruptly spiked, its low, fading beeps surging into a rapid crescendo as Seiya's pulse quickened, defying death's approach.
His father chuckled, smug.
"See this, Henry?" he said to his colleague.
"Humans are unpredictable. Give them a glimmer of hope, and they latch on. That's the power of motivation." He laughed, marveling in the transformation.
Seiya, who had been teetering on the edge, found his will rekindled, memories of his mother and siblings flooding back.
Their faces, nearly forgotten in his agony, returned with vivid clarity, igniting his will to live.
His poor mother, how would she live on after his death? She'd be for sure lonely.
His siblings, how sad and depressed they'd be if he died.
More than his own suffering, the thought of their grief tore more at him.
His eyes, blurred with tears, sharpened with determination.
Through the blinding pain, one thought rose above all others: I don't want to die.
Seeing this resolve, his father smirked. "Henry, fetch Mr. Renju."
Henry obeyed, returning shortly with an average height, middle aged looking man.
"You've really done a number on this one" Renju remarked, taking in Seiya's condition.
"Quite the spectacle," he added, then asked, "Who is he?"
After a pause, Seiya's father answered, "My son."
Mr. Renju raised a brow, taken aback. He stared at Seiya's father, shock painted on his face.
"I knew you were twisted but to this extent? You've really outdone yourself," he said, laughing, and Seiya's father joined in.
"All right, heal him. He may prove useful after all."
Renju extended a hand over Seiya and cast a healing spell on Seiya's torn body, his hand glowing with magic.
Gradually, Seiya's wounds closed, though the strain remained evident, and his mind reeled from the torment he had endured.
Once finished, Renju stepped back, the blood still staining the floor as the only remnant of the ordeal.
"Take him to his room," Seiya's father instructed Henry.
Henry teleported Seiya to a bed in an enclosed room with no windows, guarded by a heavy metal door.
Seiya lay there, drenched in cold sweat and blood, his mind plagued by the memories of his suffering. Every last reserve of strength had drained from him.
Seiya's father soon appeared and entered, standing a few feet away.
Seiya barely managed to turn his head, his gaze hollow, demanding answers even if his voice couldn't.
"What's with that look?" His father sneered.
"After this test, I've decided you might still be useful. So stop wallowing—brace yourself. This is only the beginning."