The first one — the ghost last night — that Mikel had fed to the Blood Chain was not an accident. It was for survival to buy him some time. However, he couldn't believe that he was choosing the easy path.
A path where he should be fine sacrificing these ghosts, who only wanted closure to cross over, just because the Blighted or any classified entities couldn't find him. Sacrifice them just because the damn system told him to and because his cursed relic was hungry.
Unfair? Yes.
But that was never the point.
He hated how easily the thought crept in—just one sacrifice, just one more ghost. A quick fix, a temporary relief. Like a starving man eyeing poison and convincing himself it was food. And wasn't that all this system wanted? To turn desperation into obedience, to whittle him down until he couldn't tell survival from surrender?
Mikel smashed the bottom of his fist against the concrete wall, causing dust from its cracks to fall.
[Morality is a lovely leash, Master.]
"Shut up…" His voice shook, his eyes burning at the screen before him. "They're not worth the cost of my morality or my sanity. Stop putting ideas in my head."
[I am simply offering you scissors to cut it.]
And this was the very reason Mikel couldn't just follow Doom's advice. They were plain diabolical, psychologically tormenting him while his Blood Chain resorted to physical torment.
Mikel's wrist smoked from under his skin as the Blood Chain tightened, the concentrated energy from it searing his skin. It hurt, like he had put his arm over a lit candle and there was no way to put it away. Yet, he didn't back down. He had put his foot down the second he changed his mind, and he refused to take a step back.
Not when it was against Doom, the Blood Chain, the Book of the Dead, or whatever curses this damned system would throw at him.
[The Chain would start feeding on you if you do not find it a meal in time.]
[Mercy is giving the forgotten their end.]
[This act… is not mercy.]
Mikel ground his teeth, tasting the tang of iron on the tip of his tongue. Furious, he used his other fist and threw a jab at the screen. But alas, it only rippled.
[This act is not mercy.]
He threw another jab at it, but nothing. And the more he failed, the more aggressive his attempts became until all he could see was red. He knew it was pointless—but then again, so was the endless corruption his cursed relics inflicted.
"Not an act of mercy?" he scoffed, almost snapping bit by bit. "I'll show you what no mercy is like."
With that, Mikel's eyes shifted around, catching a severed electrical line lying meters from him. He picked it up without hesitation, wrapping it tightly around his arm. Biting at the end of the dead electrical line, he pulled the other end while marching through the rubble.
He placed his arm on top of it. His wrist sizzled, the Blood Chain digging deeper as if savoring his defiance. But Mikel was done being devoured.
If this were the only thing this cursed relic could do, then he would rather not have this arm.
He reached out for any hand-sized rock within reach, raising it. Consumed with rage, disgust at what he was becoming with these curses bound to him, and the overwhelming sense of regaining control, he smashed the rock at his arm.
"Ugh—" he groaned as his fist clenched and loosened, his entire hand trembling as the pain of his seared skin and the impact of the rock clashed under his skin.
Yet, it wasn't over.
Mikel bit the wire tighter, cutting off his blood circulation—and maybe, just maybe, the pain. He held the rock up once more. And in one swift swing, another painful groan slipped through his gritted teeth. He didn't aim for the chain directly, knowing it had its way to protect itself. However, it couldn't protect his arm if he severed it, right?
"Ug…"
Beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he raised the rock again. His hand trembled, the pain crawling even to the unaffected areas of his body. Yet, the chain tightened in defiance.
I've lost my sight once… he whispered in his mind, or rather, an encouragement to destroy any lingering hesitation.
I can lose an arm… or two.
And this time, he wouldn't allow any surgery to put them back on.
Mikel brought the rock down on his arm for the third time. His muffled, choking grunts quickly followed. His breathing was short and heavy as pain spread through the bruises on his arm, underneath the scriptures inked on it.
Still not enough.
The coppery taste of the wire bit him back, metallic and bitter, but he welcomed it—better that than the scream clawing up his throat.
He raised the rock again.
The first three were painful, but somehow, he was getting very numb to both his and the Blood Chain's assault.
TAK!
This time, Mikel gradually paled as his mouth quivered. He almost lost his bite on the electrical wire, only to snap himself back and pull it to keep his blood circulation from flowing. If he was going to sever it by literally smashing his arm into smithereens, he might as well stop the blood flow early.
Less messy.
TAK!
On the sixth attempt, Mikel brought the rock down with everything he had. But this time, the chain finally loosened—an act of surrender. Mikel paused, his unblinking eyes falling on the chain.
For the first time since this confrontation, Mikel finally felt a brief sense of relief as the tightness on his wrist loosened. However, just like them, he was not very merciful either.
Just because you gave in… doesn't mean I'll change my mind.
A malicious glint flickered in his eyes, raising the rock as he planned to continue what he was doing. But just before the rock could hit his arm, the bracelet snapped open, half of it clinging to his wrist while the other end shot at the rock out of Mikel's grip.
CLANG!
Thud!
The rock quickly flew and landed on the rubble nearby, thudding as it bounced off the pile until it reached the concrete.
Mikel watched it fly and fall, panting as if that interruption finally snapped him back to his sanity. Yet, his heart still swelled with rage.
Then…
[The Blood Chain may have relented, Master… but it will always be hungry.]
"Then, let it starve."