The aftermath of the previous brutal encounter lingered like a thick fog over the training hall. The other children—half-terrified, half-incredulous—watched as O-889 staggered forward, his body a canvas of agony. His left eye was gone, replaced by a dark, hollow void scorched into his flesh. Half of his face and arm were blistered, raw, and smoking, the burns glistening under the harsh overhead lights.
Whispers rippled through the ranks, the dread palpable.
How could the feared "Shadow Spine," leader of Chamber 5 and symbol of ruthless power, fall so hard?
The young subjects recoiled at the sight—no one had ever looked so broken before. His screams—half animal, half human—echoed through the room, a raw, guttural sound of pain and defiance. Gritting his teeth with unbearable effort, he screamed not just from the pain but from sheer frustration.
"Why won't they stop? Why won't anyone end this?!" his voice cracked, raw with fury and fear.
Inside him, a storm raged—pride, desperation, and terror warred for dominance. To admit defeat, especially here and now, was unthinkable. He was the tyrant who ruled his chamber through fear and brute force. To forfeit against the S-Twins—children half his age, half his size—would strip him of all dignity. It would mark him as weak, a loser to be forgotten in Karnell's endless cycles of death and survival.
And worse—if he surrendered, like so many before him, he would die alone, silently, consumed by pain and disgrace.
The others watched, some trembling, others wide-eyed with a mixture of horror and awe. None dared to look away.
Suddenly, the S-Twins reverted to their relentless strategy. Circling O-889 like venomous snakes, they flickered with dangerous flames, each step tightening the noose. He had nowhere to run—if he moved to one side, the other would strike his back without hesitation. One wrong move would cripple or kill him.
He could feel it.
His heart pounded as he gathered every shred of strength in his battered body. With a roar, he pushed off the ground with a burst of power that belied his injuries. One massive step became ten, and before the twins could react, he lunged at S-410.
Grabbing her by the throat, he yanked her forward and pressed her burning body like a shield against S-411's incoming flame. Her immunity to fire made her a living barrier.
His grip tightened, squeezing the air from her lungs as he fought the burning pain coursing through his own arm. His burnt flesh seared with every movement, but he didn't relent.
Suddenly, S-411 faltered, dizziness overtaking her—a brutal side effect of the S-Class pyrokinetic power: severe energy drain.
O-889 sensed this weakness immediately.
With all the fury left in him, he slammed S-410 down onto the unforgiving concrete floor. Blood trickled from her split scalp. The room gasped.
Seeing her twin fall, S-411's eyes flared with murderous rage. The fire around her body intensified. She focused all her strength on her feet.
Her feet became engulfed in flames. She began to feel pain from her own fire, but relentlessly moved at full speed. With a terrifying speed that shocked everyone, she reached O-889 with one breath.
O-889 was confused; his arm wouldn't move. She arrived in front of him in less than a second.
In another breath, she wrapped flames around her right arm and slammed it into the right side of O-889's face.
His scream tore through the hall—raw, searing agony. The healing that usually crawled over his wounds was overwhelmed. He lost his remaining right eye, and the searing fire left his face a grotesque mask of burning flesh. His arm throbbed with unbearable pain, muscles twitching involuntarily.
S-411 ignored his screams and rushed to her fallen sister, who barely clung to life, blood oozing steadily.
O-889's roar shifted into something desperate and broken.
"Please… I forfeit… stop… I'm going to die…"
But no one moved.
Livia and the guards exchanged cold, impassive glances. Scoff Karios's orders were absolute. No one interferes
The order hung heavy. The faces behind the glass showed no sympathy.
The other test subjects stared in stunned silence. Fear gnawed at them.
Some saw a symbol of terror reduced to raw pain and despair.
Others saw the unyielding will of a warrior who refused to break.
Among them, AB-774 watched with a hollow, unreadable gaze. No flicker of emotion. Just cold observation.
Y-271's lips trembled as she swallowed her fear. O-243 held her arm tightly, whispering calm words that barely reached her ears.
R-932's cold gaze pierced through O-889, a faint demonic laugh threatening to escape his lips. The grim reality of Karnell was laid bare.
Even Y-906 trembled inwardly, heart pounding.
Am I dying? Just like that?
Am I going to die by these little wrenches who aren't even half my size?
I survived four years of hell only to perish here?
O-889's mind was a chaotic storm of frustration and rage, the bitterest defeat imaginable closing in.
And then—
Something shifted inside him.
His mana path—dormant and stifled for years—began to stir.
From three fractured channels, a fourth opened, coursing raw, untamed power through his veins.
His painful wounds tingled as his regeneration quickened.
The searing fire and agony fueled a fierce awakening deep within.
His body, battered and broken, surged with new life.
The brutal crucible of Karnell was far from over.