Baines's eyes flickered open, the darkness of the cell swallowing his vision.
The air was damp, heavy with the stench of mildew and blood, and the faint drip of water echoed somewhere in the distance. His body hung limp, wrists shackled above his head, ankles bound together, the cold metal biting into his skin.
A faint glow pulsed in his eye, where Eye displayed a litany of diagnostics:
[INTERNAL INJURY 40% HEALED, EXTERNAL INJURY 10% HEALED, SKELETAL SYSTEM 30%, NERVOUS SYSTEM 15%…]
Before this moment, Baines had programmed Eye with precise instructions: keep his body teetering on the edge of death, healing just enough to sustain life but not enough to betray his resilience to his captors.
Rapid recovery in front of enemies would raise suspicion, and Baines was playing a longer game.
His plan was audacious. He wanted to seize control of an underground organization through sheer dominance, wielding his Ashenfall energy to break their will.
