Melly and Kade stepped back into the dorm, a space stripped of humanity and comfort. The room stretched out with its cold concrete walls and floors, devoid of even the faintest attempt at warmth. Thin, tattered mattresses lay scattered on the ground like discarded rags, offering little more than a symbolic gesture toward rest. No blankets, no pillows—just a reminder that comfort was never a priority in this place.
Melly lay nearest to the cracked window, her body pressed against the unforgiving mattress. The moonlight streamed in with an icy, bluish hue, casting low-lit streaks across her face but doing little to alleviate the severity of her thoughts. She shifted restlessly, the weight of Kade's revelations pressing down on her, while the stillness of the room amplified her thoughts, making them louder and sharper.
She turned over again, her thoughts wrapping around her like a heavy blanket she didn't possess. The numbing cold did little to soothe her mind; instead, it only intensified the storm of emotions brewing within her. [How could anyone survive like that?] she pondered, staring at the faint outline of her hands in the dim light. Kade's past wasn't merely tough. It was merciless, filled with experiences that could break most people.
Yet, as her thoughts meddled on his suffering, echoes of her own past began to creep into her mind. The burden of expectation, the relentless pressure to be perfect, rushed back to her like a chilling wind. Her father's voice rang in her ears, as vivid as if he were right there beside her.
"Melly, you have to be better than this. Better than anyone else."
"Do it again. Do it right this time."
"Perfection isn't a goal—it's the bare minimum."
No matter how much she poured into her efforts, it was never sufficient. Each accomplishment brought with it a new standard to meet, every success overshadowed by what could have been improved. It wasn't a battle for survival like Kade faced, but it weighed heavily on her all the same. The drive to succeed, to validate her worth, had etched scars invisible to anyone but her.
Her thoughts spiraled, and with each unanswered question, her chest felt increasingly burdened. She wasn't one to get caught up in emotions—she had mastered the art of suppressing them, burying them under layers of strength and determination. But this was different. For reasons she couldn't fully articulate, it persisted, enveloping her like a shadow she couldn't dispel.
A sudden pull at her neck snapped her out of her daze. Startled, she froze, her hand instinctively moving to her chest. Her crystal necklace, dangling from its aged silver chain, started to hover as if drawn by invisible forces. The reddish-purple glow it radiated illuminated her face with an unsettling light.
"What the..." she whispered, her voice barely audible over the faint hum emanating from the necklace. She reached for it cautiously, her fingers trembling as they grazed its surface.
[No... not now. I've barely used half of my mana!] she thought in a panic, her heart racing. The chain tugged slightly, tightening before relaxing once more. She could sense the energy accumulating, overflowing despite her attempts to contain it.
Melly's thoughts raced. [What could have triggered this? I was careful this time. Wasn't I?]
Carefully, she sat up, her movements deliberate to avoid waking anyone. She cupped the crystal in her left hand, its warmth seeping into her skin, and pressed her right hand firmly over it. In a hushed but soft voice, she began to chant:
"Sonkei subeki shisha no seiseki ga ima mezame"
"Keihakuna chikara ga yami ni sokubaku sa reru."
"Shikashi, subete wa watashi no yuruginai kenshin ni yotte shōhi sa remasu."
The glow flared brighter with each line, illuminating the entire room for a fleeting moment before dimming once more. Her voice wavered, and as she lifted her hand, the crystal dulled, its light extinguished. The air around her grew still.
[What could have triggered—] The thought faded as a wave of weakness washed over her. Her body collapsed back onto the mattress, her energy completely drained. It wasn't a voluntary fall; the spell had exhausted her, rendering her unable to move.
The crystal lay cold and lifeless in her palm as her eyelids fluttered shut, her mind descending into the dark void of fatigue.
×××
Morning arrived sluggishly, the faint light creeping through the smudged window doing little to brighten the room.
In the cell, Ghent's group and Haze were awake, but not a word was spoken. They sat in silence, exhaustion etched on their faces. No one had the energy for complaints or banter; they were drained, hungry, and utterly defeated.
Ewald remained curled up, his knees drawn to his chest as he rested his chin on his arms. His eyes, open, were fixed on the floor, unblinking.
Haze leaned against the wall, his head tilted back, his eyes barely open. His face pale from stress and pain.
Ghent, usually the loudest among them, sat with his legs outstretched, arms limp at his sides. He had lost the fire to rant or cause trouble.
Mark remained sprawled on the ground, his face half-covered by his hand, shielding his eyes from the faint morning light.
Jingo stood near the window, staring out at the world beyond, his expression unreadable.
The room was heavy with discomfort. Soft shuffles and the occasional groan of shifting bodies echoed through the space, forming a grim symphony of fatigue. Then came the clanking of chains from outside the iron door, a jarring sound that shattered their uneasy stillness.
At first, none of them reacted. Exhaustion clung to them like a second skin, numbing their limbs and dulling their senses. After half a day in the suffocating stillness, even the sporadic clinking of chains or distant echoes had blended into the monotony—a background noise they had tacitly learned to ignore.
Eventually, the heavy iron door creaked open. Chains rattled as a figure stepped into the cell, the faint echo of boots against the stone floor resonating in the space.
"Good day, boys." A voice came through, bright, disturbingly cheerful, and paired with a wide, unsettling grin.