POV: Chris – Blackwood 1
"Drain the tunnel," I ordered, my voice calm but thunderous across the command floor.
The engineers typed rapidly. With a low groan, the submerged corridor began to empty. Thick, black liquid spiraled down unseen drains, leaving behind shivering bodies gasping for breath on the cold, metallic floor.
> "Let them rest," I said, eyes scanning the surviving figures through the surveillance feeds. "They've earned a moment."
Amara turned to me, visibly tense. "You're giving mercy now?"
I didn't look at her. "It's not mercy. It's pacing."
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POV: One of the Survivors – Unnamed Teen Boy, Number 31172
I lay flat on my back, lungs heaving, my heartbeat pounding in my ears like war drums.
I didn't know if I was still in a trial or just... between trials. The others were coughing, some crying quietly. A few started praying again.
> "What is this empire?" someone whispered. "A god who drowns you and then hands you a towel?"
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POV: Dictator Christiana
I watched from the glass observatory, arms folded.
> "He's softening," I murmured to myself. "That's unlike him."
But deep inside, I knew Chris wasn't weakening. He was calculating. Giving breath to those who still had strength to scream, fight, and prove themselves… later.
> "Drain them. Dry them. Feed them."
"And then break them again."