The demonic guardian drummed her fingers on the dark marble table, her expression hardened by hate and doubt. Lennon's guardian entered in silence, the mask hiding any trace of emotion.
"That Forgotten 666 still hasn't returned! There's no way he can endure this long!" her voice echoed, cold as steel.
"Yes, Superior. When he dies, as his guardian, I have the power to know and to send him wherever I wish. But… it seems he hasn't died yet." he replied, steady, yet intrigued.
The guardian narrowed her gaze, suspicion burning in her eyes.
"Damn it! This makes no sense. Even if his usefulness is legendary, only we can consume essence fruits. Could another domain have intervened to steal him from us!?"
The masked guardian tilted his head.
"Unlikely, Superior. Our domain of Pride cannot be confronted directly by any other. If you allow, I will go personally to the arena of eternal hunt to search for him."
He stepped forward but froze suddenly, raising his hand.
"Wait… it seems now he has. He's dead. I'll bring him."
With a simple gesture, Lennon's body appeared on the floor of the chamber, motionless, marked by battle. Seconds later, his chest began to rise, breath returning. His eyes opened slowly, dazed, until he realized where he was.
The guardian's gaze fell on him like a blade.
"So… you've finally returned."
She leaned over the table, her voice cutting sharp:
"Where are the five fruits?"
Lennon, already chained, forced himself up.
His body ached, but his eyes no longer carried the same terror as before. Slowly, he drew forth from his mind six essence fruits, each glowing with a brilliance that made the whole chamber breathe differently.
Silence crashed down. The masked guardian's body tensed, unable to hide it.
The demonic guardian's eyes widened for an instant – then she lunged without hesitation, seized one fruit, and devoured it greedily.
"Mmm… top quality," she murmured, licking her lips with restrained pleasure.
"It seems your usefulness is… satisfactory. But it annoys me that you fulfilled exactly the mission I gave you. That robs me of the joy of laughing in your face."
Lennon's heart clenched. The sense of being one breath away from death didn't fade. Then came the blow:
"Guardian, search his mind."
The air seemed to vanish. Lennon drew in a deep breath, struggling not to show the panic boiling inside.
"Damn it! I didn't know this was possible… if they find out…!"
The guardian stepped closer, raised his hand, and began the silent invasion. For long seconds, Lennon remained still, bracing for the worst. Then the guardian stopped, frozen, as if he had struck against an absolute void.
The demonic guardian narrowed her eyes.
"Well?"
The guardian's voice was firm, but shadowed by perplexity:
"Nothing. It's completely empty. Just an ordinary guide… and an old sword."
A fleeting smile flickered across Lennon's lips, too quick to be noticed, relief flowing through him like a forbidden balm. It seems the pact's restriction was holding at one hundred percent.
The guardian leaned back, hiding her satisfaction behind a mask of coldness.
"Take him to the mines with the other prisoners. Then, for performance beyond expectation, put him in solitary."
And she burst into a lunatic laughter that echoed off the walls, vibrating like iron blades dragged across stone.
Lennon lowered his gaze.
He was intrigued, but said nothing. As he was dragged away, he noticed something different: the chains no longer crushed him as before, the guardian's pull didn't feel unbearable anymore.
Deep in his muscles, at the edge of his soul – he had evolved.
The mine's air was heavy, thick with dust and sweat. The sound of picks striking stone reverberated like endless hammer blows, mixed with guards' shouts and the sharp crack of whips.
Lennon was dragged to a line of prisoners who labored without rest, his chains vanishing like theirs. The task was clear: tear from the earth's guts the essence stones, crystals, and blocks that glimmered in subtle tones, like embers trapped inside the mine.
He watched carefully, piecing it together in his mind.
"Essence in the form of fruit… essence in the form of stone… all of it must hold value. But how to use it? If not for the strength the fruits gave me, I wouldn't even grasp how important they really are."
His thought was cut short when, farther ahead, an exhausted prisoner stumbled, letting the stones scatter across the ground. Before he could rise, the whip lashed his back. Again, and again, until the body stopped moving. Death by exhaustion and scourge.
Lennon froze, heart pounding. The brutality still hit too hard. His fingers trembled around the pick's handle.
One guard noticed his hesitation and struck him four times without mercy. The cracks echoed, but to Lennon's surprise, the pain wasn't as crushing as he expected. It burned, yes, but didn't break him – he only crouched. Gasping, he faced the ground and went back to work.
The guardian dismissed him and moved on. But some prisoners nearby noticed. Hollow eyes turned toward Lennon, silently registering the difference: that man endured more than normal.
There was something about him. Yet no one spoke.
And Lennon, even while trying not to draw attention, couldn't stop the thought:
"I'm stronger… they don't know it yet, but I'm already different."
The second prisoner fell, stones clattering across the dusty floor. The dry noise echoed like a sentence. The guards advanced immediately, their whips hissing. The entire group shrank, no one daring to help.
One guard, eyes blazing behind his iron mask, swept the convicts with his gaze and pointed straight at Lennon:
"Forgotten 666, you'll join this transport group!"
Lennon's eyes widened, confused at first.
Transport? He had seen the fate of those who carried the stones – endless journeys, broken bodies, burdens heavier than the mines, punishments even harsher. It looked like a curse disguised as a task.
But as he took the stones handed to him, something clicked in his mind.
"Transporting… longer distances… less direct supervision. If I'm smart, I can learn more about this place. Maybe even explore points they don't imagine."
A faint smile crept across his lips. The weight of the stones pressed his arms, but unlike the others, he could bear it better. The strain made his muscles throb, but confirmed what he already suspected: he was stronger.
Among the groans of his companions, Lennon lifted his gaze toward the dark tunnel ahead, lit only by the dim flames of torches nailed to the walls.
"They think they're punishing me… but maybe they're giving me my best chance to escape."
[Latent ability processed!]