Pain.
It's not a punishment anymore.
It's a resource.
I learned that in my second fight.
They sent me in against two this time. A woman with claws for fingers and a man who moved like a bullet. The crowd wanted a show. They wanted blood.
And I gave it to them.
I took a slash to the back—deep. Let it bleed. Took a kick to the ribs. Let them break.
I smiled through all of it.
Because every hit meant they would feel it later.
I just had to survive long enough.
---
> System Alert
You are approaching fatal condition.
[Mutual Destruction] activation threshold: 86%
Estimated output: 14.2x reflected damage
Cooldown: Not active
---
They didn't understand at first. They thought I was just another lunatic—another desperate loser clinging to false hope.
Until their bones started snapping mid-fight.
Until they started choking on blood they hadn't been hit hard enough to cough up.
Until the girl screamed, clutching her chest like something inside had ripped free.
That's when the crowd started watching me instead.
Not with laughter.
With fear.
---
I drag my broken body back to the holding cells. A medic tries to patch me up. I push his hand away.
"I don't want it to heal too fast," I whisper.
He flinches. Doesn't ask why.
Good.
He wouldn't understand.
Orestes hums in my head. "You're learning. Good. You're beginning to see how beautiful pain can be."
I don't respond.
But he's right.
Every second in this hellhole is experience. Every injury is investment. I'm not just surviving.
I'm farming.
And it's paying off.
---
> Experience Gained: +320
[Mutual Destruction] has leveled up.
Level 2:
– Reflect damage at 12x amplification
– Activation threshold reduced to 75% HP
– Pain tolerance slightly increased
– New Passive Unlocked: Blood Echo – Gain strength for 5 seconds after ability activation
---
That night, they try to starve me again.
Old habits die hard, I guess.
Let them.
Hunger doesn't scare me anymore.
I've tasted something better.
Control.
---
I sit in the dark, back against the cold wall, listening to the others whisper about me.
"Did you see what he did?"
"He's cursed."
"No... he's something worse."
I let them talk.
Let the legend grow.
They don't need to know the truth yet.
Not that I'm strong.
But that I'm still weak.
I need more fights. More blood. More fear.
That's how I grow.
That's how I climb.
Orestes whispers again: "Dig the graves slowly, Ezra. One scream at a time."
I smile to myself.
Tomorrow, I'll bleed again.
And tomorrow, someone else will die for it.