Time had lost its meaning.
In the damp cave, where drops fell at irregular intervals, Kael could no longer distinguish morning from night, hours from minutes. Only the occasional creak of chains reminded him that he was still trapped in this world. His body, kneeling on the cold floor, remained motionless, as if part of the rock. The torch in the corner had already burned down halfway, but even its flickering light seemed to mock the endless passage of time.
What any other man would have experienced—piercing hunger, unbearable thirst, muscles trembling with weakness—was only a strange simulation in Kael's mind. He felt the hunger. His mouth felt dry. His stomach sometimes churned, as if searching for something that would never come. But none of these were more than echoes, illusions that didn't truly consume him.
He knew.
Because Kael had never been an ordinary man. He had never truly been human.
He was a product.
