Through his contact with the guide – which he quickly realized was also the book Ascension to Transcendence – Lennon understood that the prison had nearly infinite areas, so many that it was impossible to predict which one he would be taken to next.
From an Earthly perspective, moving between areas would take years, giving the impression that the place had only two or three sectors. But what he saw now made it clear: a new area had just revealed itself – the Infernal Torture Area.
As soon as he pushed the door open, a cold wind carrying the smell of iron and burnt wax hit his face, bringing an immediate sense of absolute danger.
In front of him, the room opened up like a macabre arena.
Gray light revealed distorted shapes: torture chairs of bone and black metal, chains hanging from the ceiling, and pits of fire illuminating the corners with flames.
Guardians from various regions of the prison were present – some with iron masks, others with claws and black cloaks that almost entirely concealed their bodies, all observing with cruel discipline.
Each seemed to supervise a different type of torment: some commanded infernal creatures to attack prisoners, others manipulated instruments of pain, and some simply watched with glowing eyes, ready to punish any deviation.
At the center of the arena, the demonic guardian stood out. Her dark eyes burned with madness and pleasure at others' suffering.
"Finally, we have the first to cross the door, my people!" – her voice cut through the air, making the crowd of demons clap in unison, a sound that seemed to vibrate in Lennon's bones and the walls around him.
She continued, a cruel smile forming:
"Forgotten 666! Welcome to the Infernal Torture Area. Let's see how much you can take!"
Lennon's body shuddered, a chill running down his spine. Fear dominated him for a moment – it wasn't just the physical pain he expected, but the psychological terror, the certainty that dying horribly was inevitable.
Even so, a flame of fury and determination ignited in his heart.
He clenched his fists, feeling every fiber of his body ready to react, and murmured to himself:
"They will pay. Every last one of them. A thousand times over!"
Chains suddenly appeared around Lennon, tightening as his guardian dragged him, impassive, toward the torture chair in the center of the new area.
Another guardian positioned himself nearby, brandishing a blazing sword, the metal radiating stifling heat that promised to pierce every inch of flesh.
Lennon's heart raced, fear coursing like fire through his veins, but at the same time, a flame of anger began to grow.
His eyes scanned the scene: prisoners screaming in despair, others attempting to end their own lives only to reappear mercilessly in the arena, forced to suffer again.
Every scream and gesture of agony reinforced the cruel nature of this 'show.'
It was then that Lennon understood the warning from Forgotten 232: everything here was entertainment for the demons.
But something else intrigued him – how had 232 known in advance that this would be the area? His experience must be vast; he had been here a long time, which increased Lennon's sense of powerlessness but also fueled his hatred.
Before he could process more, the torture began. The hot sword sank into his flesh, burning and slicing with calculated precision.
Each strike was accompanied by sadistic laughter and applause from the surrounding demons, especially the demonic guardian, whose pleasure in his suffering was evident in her glimmering black eyes.
Lennon felt the pain pierce every fiber of his body, each breath a battle.
Even as agony consumed him, a fierce hatred began to grow within him – not only against those torturing him but against the entire demonic hierarchy that fed on the suffering of others.
Every scream of pain, every look of sadistic pleasure from the guardian, etched in his mind a promise of vengeance. With every blow, his determination solidified: one day, they would all pay.
Lennon's body finally gave in, crushed by pain, while the demons stepped back to watch the conclusion of the spectacle. But even in death, his mind burned, fueled by rage and the desire to become strong enough to turn that hatred into absolute power.
Lennon opened his heavy eyes, his body still aching from the last death, and found himself behind bars, back in the prison.
The memory of recent suffering surged, and unable to contain himself, he punched the ground with force.
"You will pay, demons. You will pay… even if I have to become another demon!" – he shouted, rage burning in every word.
He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart, and his mind returned to what Forgotten 232 had said about the pamphlet. He looked at the wall of his cell and, among scratches and etchings, found the paper: a pamphlet full of instructions and warnings.
"Notice for all prisoners of high, magnificent, and legendary utility.
You can become an Adapted Prisoner.
Adapted Prisoners are those who seek freedom, living permanently in the Eternal Hunting Arena. You will receive one Essence Fruit for every ten fruits collected within a period equivalent to a week in your left-behind world, as well as access to the society of the Adapted, where the rules of the prison do not fully apply. There, you may converse and act freely.
Once chosen, there is no return!
If you wish to submit, speak directly with your guardian."
Lennon felt his blood run cold and his mind whirl.
'Adapted prisoners? Living forever in the arena, facing monsters?'
The cruelty was unimaginable, even for someone who had already survived horror.
But suddenly, a subtle smile appeared on his lips.
If he went there, he could collect the required amount of monster materials with more freedom.
As for essence stones, the mines would remain safer, but in the hunting arena, he could find some randomly – and with his guide, he knew where many were hidden.
There would be risks, of course: other Adapted could appear, unpredictable groups or monsters, but that only increased the challenge.
"Huh! The only good thing is that my utility is the highest of all" – he murmured, feeling a warmth of pride and ambition grow inside him.
He reflected on the logic of the prison. Why would they place the most useful prisoners in this cruel system? Perhaps because Essence Fruits were more valuable than ores, and those with the greatest skills could access the best.
The strategy made sense.
Lennon couldn't suppress a dry, ironic laugh at the thought of the 'freedom' promised in the pamphlet.
"Freedom…"– the word sounded rotten in his mouth.
"They're not offering us freedom. They're offering a bigger cage. And the worst part is… it's exactly what I need."
Even in the face of cruelty and illusion, he felt a pang of satisfaction.
Knowing that the demons tried to manipulate him, as if underestimating his intelligence, only fueled his hatred and determination further.
The empty promise of freedom became fuel: the more they tried to deceive him, the more he would prepare to surpass them.
With his plans set, Lennon took a deep breath.
No matter what he would face in the arena, no matter how difficult it would be, he would evolve, strengthen, and transcend as fast as possible. This was the next step, and he was determined.