Pain.
It had become Elias' only reality.
It started with fists—blows to his ribs, to his stomach, to his jaw. The first day, they held back. The second, they didn't. By the third, the concept of mercy had been entirely erased from their minds.
The guards took turns, each one making sure to leave something broken by the time they stepped away. The dull thud of their knuckles against his flesh, the sharp crack of a baton against his ribs—it all blurred into one long, endless nightmare.
And no matter how much he screamed, no matter how much he pleaded, the hits never stopped.
"Talk," one of them had snarled, slamming his head against the cold stone wall.
"I don't fucking know anything!" Elias had choked out, blood dripping from his lips.
Wrong answer.
A boot smashed against his gut, forcing the air from his lungs.
The floor became his home. His own blood became the only thing familiar to him.
Day after day. Hour after hour.
It didn't stop.
And neither did Dain.
The cell door would swing open at random intervals, and for just a moment, the pain would pause.
Dain would step inside, his golden eyes impassive, unreadable.
He'd crouch in front of Elias—a man reduced to nothing but bruises, open wounds, and shattered bones—and calmly ask the same question.
"Tell me the truth."
Elias would laugh bitterly.
Or he'd glare. Or, on some days, he simply wouldn't answer at all.
But tonight—tonight, he had reached his breaking point.
Dain stepped in again, his face cast in shadows from the dim torchlight.
"Tell me the truth, Scholar."
Elias lifted his head, barely able to focus through the haze of agony. His lips were swollen and split, his vision blurred from the dried blood crusting over his eyelashes.
His voice came out shaky but sharp.
"You asshole…"
He spat blood onto the stone between them.
"I don't FUCKING Know!"
His shout cracked the air, his voice raw from days of screaming.
Dain stared at him. For a second, it looked like he was about to say something.
Then, without a word—he stood up and left.
The door shut behind him.
And the beating resumed.
Elias was drifting.
Somewhere between consciousness and nothingness.
His body was left as a pile of shattered bones and torn flesh, his mind a haze of static.
Then—he saw him.
The masked man.
Standing in the corner of the cell, arms crossed, head tilted in amusement.
Elias' heart clenched.
No. No, this was a hallucination. He was imagining him—he had to be.
But then—the masked man spoke.
"No, Elias." His voice was smooth, amused and cruel.
"It's truly me."
Elias' breath came out ragged.
His hands twitched, broken fingers trying to reach toward him.
"H-help.. me." The words came out so weak, so pathetic.
The masked man started without saying a word.
Then he spoke-
"The only person who can help you, Elias… is yourself."
Elias' chest tightened.
"He will kill you here." The masked man leaned down, his voice dropping to a whisper. "And you will be born again. And killed again. Over and over and over again. Without stopping."
He straightened.
"You can't let this end here, don't be this useless."
Then—he vanished.
Elias' breath hitched.
"No." He shook his head violently.
"No, no, no, no!"
His shouting drew attention. The cell door swung open again.
This time, they didn't waste time talking.
They kicked him down and started stomping on his chest.
Bones snapped like brittle twigs.
Elias screamed.
"STOP! STOP, PLEASE—"
A boot crushed his ribs again.
A boot crushed his ribs again.
"AHHHH! FUCK—"
The pain was indescribable.
"I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING!"
More pressure. More cracking. His vision flickered.
"I CAN'T—I CAN'T BREATHE—"
A guard lifted a steel rod and swung it—
Crack.
Elias' world went black.
The guards barely had a second to react before the cell door burst open.
Dain stormed inside, his golden eyes burning with fury.
His gaze locked onto Elias' broken, unmoving body on the ground.
Something in his expression shifted.
He turned sharply—grabbing the nearest guard by the collar and slamming him into the wall.
"WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?"
His voice boomed, a rare burst of anger slipping past his normally calm facade.
The guards froze.
One of them stammered. "H-He wasn't talking—he—"
"YOU KILLED HIM!" Dain shoved the man harder, his teeth clenched.
The guard's face paled. "But he—"
"I SAID TO MAKE HIM TALK, NOT BEAT HIM TO DEATH, ASSHOLE!"
Dain's fist slammed into the guard's stomach, sending him crashing to the floor.
The others stepped back, terrified. But none of them moved to stop him.
Dain turned his gaze back to Elias.
His chest felt tight.
He took a slow step forward, kneeling beside the scholar's limp form.
Elias' skin was pale. His face was unmoving. His body completely still.
Dain's fingers clenched.
For a reason he couldn't explain—he felt something sink inside him.
Then—
Elias' consciousness slipped away.
Darkness took him.
The breath tore through Elias' lungs like fire.
His body jerked violently as if it had been electrocuted, his heart hammering against his ribs. He was alive again.
And he was no longer in the cell.
Elias' vision adjusted quickly, scanning the dimly lit room. The interrogation chamber. A single candle flickered on the table, casting long shadows across the stone walls.
Sitting across from him, Dain Ferris watched.
Not in shock. Not in horror.
In understanding.
Dain leaned forward, elbows resting on the table, his golden eyes studying Elias like a puzzle that had almost clicked together—but not quite.
"Who are you?" Dain demanded, his tone sharpened. "And how are you still alive?"
"Sure." Elias said, his voice was hoarse but steady. "You want the truth, I'll tell you the whole truth."
Dain raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
Elias slowly unbuttoned his tattered shirt, revealing his bare chest.
There—etched into his skin like ink woven into flesh—
The Mark of Ruin.
Dain's eyes widened.
Then—he grinned.
"Ruin Mark? So…. you return from death."
Elias swallowed, his throat still raw, his body aching from everything that had just happened. His fingers curled against his lap.
"Yes." His voice was quiet, but firm.
Dain leaned back against the wall, his gaze never leaving Elias.
"Interesting." Then, after a pause—
"Prove it."
Elias expected this.
He took a deep breath, keeping his voice even. "Tell me something important."
Dain raised an eyebrow.
"What?"
Elias exhaled, his shoulders tensing.
"Tell me something only you know. Something important."
He lifted his chin, meeting Dain's gaze directly.
"And then, kill me."
Dain's expression didn't shift. Not immediately.
But then, a slow, amused smile spread across his face.
"Alright."
He stood, drawing his blade in one smooth motion. The metal gleamed under the weak candlelight.
Elias didn't flinch.
Dain stepped closer, the tip of his sword hovering just under Elias' chin.
A moment of silence passed.
Then—Dain's voice dropped to a whisper.
"This city is a prison, Scholar."
Elias' heart stopped. His pulse thundered in his ears. Not a sanctuary. Not a miracle.
A prison.
His stomach twisted at the revelation—at the confirmation of something he had begun to suspect.
But before he could say anything—
Dain moved.
A sharp, clean slice.
Elias felt the warmth of his own blood before he even registered the pain.
His body lurched as the blade cut cleanly through his throat, severing his voice before he could even scream.
The world tilted.
His vision blurred.
Darkness swallowed him whole.
A second passed.
Then another.
Then—
A violent gasp tore through Elias' lungs.
His eyes snapped open, his heart pounding violently.
And there he was.
Back in the chair.
Staring directly at Dain Ferris.
Dain's golden eyes narrowed slightly, his expression calm—but there was something different this time.
A flicker of realization.
A confirmation of something he already suspected. Elias sat still for a moment, letting the weight of what just happened sink in.
Then, he exhaled slowly and spoke.
"You need my Mark of Ruin to fight, don't you?"
Dain's relaxed demeanor shifted slightly.
For the first time since this interrogation began, he looked surprised.
Elias clenched his fists. His entire body ached from the torment he had endured. His mind screamed at him to stop talking—to shut up, to rest—but his anger burned hotter than the pain.
"This city isn't a sanctuary."
Elias' voice was hoarse, but clear.
"It's a fucking prison. Right, Dain Ferris?"
For a brief moment—silence.
Then—Dain stood. And he laughed.
Not a chuckle. Not a small smirk.
But a full, genuine laugh.
Low at first, then louder, shaking the room with its presence.
It wasn't mockery.
It was amusement.
It was acceptance.
As if Elias had finally put the last piece of the puzzle together.
Dain ran a hand through his hair, his grin widening as he turned to face Elias fully.
"You got me, Scholar.. you got me."
His golden eyes gleamed under the flickering candlelight.
"Smart bastard, aren't you?"
Elias' teeth gritted. His head ached, his body was on the verge of collapse, but he didn't care.
His voice came out low. Seething.
"Go fuck yourself, Ferris."
Dain only smiled wider.
Then, turning toward the door, he simply said—
"Welcome to the Veil'Mire, Scholar. The lost city"