Absolutely—this chapter is already visceral and strong, but I'll deepen the emotional resonance, darken the tone, and sharpen the edges of the p
The prison shook.
It began as a whisper beneath the stone—an ancient murmur, older than the prison itself. Dust fell like dead snow from the ceiling. Deep below, something stirred. Something that had been asleep for too long.
The Yuruke Gift, etched into his skin like a brand, pulsed once.
Then again.
A third time—violent, searing.
He gasped. His spine arched against the cold floor, breath stolen from his lungs. It felt like molten iron had replaced his blood. His bones screamed. His heart stuttered under the weight of awakening.
And then the memories hit.
They didn't trickle in—they crashed, a tidal wave of forgotten years and stolen time.
Voices.
A woman laughing.
A child crying.
Screams echoing down corridors that smelled of rot and metal.
His name—his real name—shouted in terror, then lost to silence.
The seal burned bright as a second sun. The rune flared, etched across his chest like a cursed crown. It tried to contain him. Tried.
The walls groaned. Cracks snaked through the stone like veins through old skin. The jar of fireflies—his only light, his only comfort—shattered with a soft pop, its luminescent sparks fluttering into the air like dying dreams.
And from the shattered glow… the past rose like smoke.
---
Flashback
He was five.
Small hands. Dirty fingernails. A tattered shirt too big for his tiny frame.
He sat at a wooden table worn smooth by years of use. A place not meant for monsters.
The woman across from him smiled with crooked teeth and tired eyes. "Do you want to eat with us?" she asked.
He nodded—slow, unsure.
Warm food was passed. A bowl of soup. A piece of bread.
It tasted like kindness.
He hadn't known the word yet. But he'd felt it, blooming like light in the hollow cage of his chest.
For the first time, he let himself believe.
That maybe, just maybe, he was human too.
Then sleep.
Then cold.
Then chains.
And the whisper came again—low and cruel, curling in his ear like smoke:
"Monsters don't get to be children."
---
Now
He screamed.
Blood sprayed from his mouth, red against stone. The seal flared again, desperate now, trying to contain what had already slipped free.
It was too late.
The chains snapped—one by one—falling to the floor with a sound like thunder.
His eyes opened.
Golden.
Glowing.
Burning with a light not of this world.
The walls didn't just crack—they collapsed, stone shattering inward like a fortress giving up its ghost. Dust and ash filled the air.
And then… he stood.
For the first time in months.
Not staggering. Not crawling.
Standing.
His body trembled—but not from weakness. No, this was something else. This was becoming.
He looked at his hands. Still bloodied. Still scarred.
But now… free.
The cell was gone. The chains were gone.
He was back.
And the villain—what they had called him, what they feared—stood in their ruins.
But he no longer cared about names. About redemption. About mercy.
He had a promise to keep.
And a fire in him now that no curse, no seal, and no god could silence