"ARRGH...!!"
Vigil, unable to hold back the pain, grabbed his upper arm and let out a thunderous scream.
Throughout all of his trials and tribulations - between getting shot, stabbed, sliced, burned, and much more - he had to say, this was the worst pain he'd ever experienced.
The pain felt searing yet sharp, almost as if he was being skinned alive by a red hot blade, but so, so much worse.
Still screaming, Vigil couldn't help but slightly regret his decision to become a mercenary at this moment.
'Damnit! No one told me that I would have to do this. This sucks!'
The same scene continued to play out for the next ten seconds.
By the time that his arm had been in the device for five seconds, seemingly broken out of its previous stupor, the hall burst into a roar of different voices, all counting down the time for the young boy.
And just like that, the timer had finished ticking.
When Tiamat had finally let go of the young boy's hand, he quickly retracted it in order to get his arm out of that horrid box as soon as possible.
Unfortunately for him, yanking his arm away from the device didn't do much to help him, as the pain still continued to linger around his forearm. Or to be more precise, the pain came from his wrist and spread throughout the length of his forearm.
As he was dealing with the now settling pain, Vigil could hear all of the cheers coming from the people inside the hall.
Since he finally had the mental capacity to understand what was going on around him once again, he proceeded to look around in confusion.
"Why is everyone cheering? What, is seeing a kid writhe in pain a way that mercenaries use to pass the time?"
In response to the quiet whisper that he'd said to himself in which the receptionist overheard, she gave him an answer to his question.
"The reason why people are cheering is because another Child of War has been shackled. It's not everyday that something like this happens, so people tend to see it as a sort of celebration, you could say."
Hearing the answer to his question, Vigil thought to himself:
'What exactly is there to celebrate... Wait a minute, shackled? What does that mean?'
Vigil turned back towards Tiamat in order to ask her to elaborate on what she had just said.
But by the time that he'd looked at her, he could already see her hand pointing towards the wrist in which he was holding, the one that had been in that god forsaken torture device.
When Vigil turned to look at his wrist that had now settled down from the pain, he saw what looked to be a tattoo that looked oddly similar to a shackle that's put on the wrists of a prisoner.
He had to say, it did look quite marvelous, with its simple yet stylish design. Although the tattoo was made using only a deep black ink, each and every small detail could be seen shining through the layers that comprised it.
However, the more he looked at it, the less he understood.
For some inexplicable reason, the symbols that were engraved onto the tattoo felt like they were words or letters trying to spell something out. But that was exactly what didn't make sense to him, because he'd never seen anything that looked like it before.
In other words, it was a gut feeling, an assumption.
Snapping him out of his thoughts was the sound of Tiamat's voice sounding out from beside him.
"That there is your shackle. It's something that all mercenaries have engraved onto them when they first become one."
As Vigil heard her words, he turned around to look at the lively hall and its populace, noticing that on the arms that were currently laid bare, a shackle could be seen on each and every one of them.
Yet something about their tattoos seemed different from his... Scratch that, all of the tattoos were different from one another. The diversity between each one ranged from only slight misshapen symbols to completely different designs.
While he was looking around, Tiamat continued.
"Think of your shackle as something similar to the wristband that you are given once you register as a citizen of Mercy. However, instead of it being for the convenience of everyday life, it's used in order to help you out with things related to War Field. Really, the only similarity between the two is that they are both used to identify the person."
She paused for a short moment, then continued talking about the shackle.
"The first feature of your shackle is your identification. If you would, please gently slide your finger across the back side of your wrist. When you do that, the name that you have been registered under will appear."
Vigil gently spun his head to glance back at her, then turned to look at his wrist.
Once he did, he held out his left index finger and gently rubbed it along the back of his newly attained tattoo.
As he did so he noticed that the previous design that made up the entire inside of the shackle started to fade, leaving only its outline, and in its place the word Dread had appeared. The same name that he would now go by as a mercenary.
"Woah..."
He whispered under his breath just loud enough for the beautiful receptionist to hear.
Speaking of Tiamat, seeing as how Vigil had done what she'd asked of him, she resumed her spiel about the workings of the shackle.
"Now if you glide your finger across your wrist the same way you did before, then it should turn back to normal. After you do that, gently squeeze your wrist with your other hand. If you do, your Chain will appear. Each link that comprises the Chain is a physical representation of how many cycles you and your Truth have gone through. Pretty neat right?"
Hearing those last sentences immediately made Vigil do as he was instructed.
Over the course of time that he'd spent in War Field, he'd always thought about Truth and its inner workings. To be more precise, he wanted to know how strong he'd gotten. In other words, how many cycles he's completed.
Although, at the time, he still hasn't been able to figure out what his Truth truly is. But as long as he was strong enough to survive that was fine by him.
Grabbing his wrist with his left hand, Vigil proceeded to give it a gentle squeeze. Once he did, a chain that consisted of three complete links and one that was slightly broken at the end, had appeared on his forearm, starting to spiral around it.
Peeking over at the young boy's wrist, Tiamat was now able to notice the amount of links that had appeared on his arm.
"Oh? Three links already? Not to mention that your fourth is almost complete as well. I have got to say, for someone of your age-... Wait, how old are you exactly? Sorry, just curious is all."
In response to her question, Vigil had glanced away from his wrist while also letting go of it, causing the chain and the links that comprised it to disappear.
Now looking at the receptionist whilst putting his gauntlet back on, he responded:
"From what I have been told, my eleventh birthday was about a month and a half ago."
A certain theme had reoccurred once more.
The device that could discern truth from lies was still sitting on the desk, continuing to radiate its same soft green glow.
Showing the rest of the hall that he was, once again, telling the truth.
With the hall now falling back into a loud silence for the third time since Vigil had walked in, he had no choice but to sit there and accept it.
That still absence of sound permeated the hall for a good minute before someone spoke in a hushed voice, talking to the person sitting right beside them.
"Didn't the boy say that he was out there for a little more than two years?"
Then another spoke up, answering the first person's question.
"Yeah... But if he's eleven now, then he had to have started his journey when..."
Vigil was beginning to get sick and tired of this silence.
Thankfully, the stillness didn't last long. Because a moment later, one of the people sitting down a couple dozen feet away from him, a skeleton with a large piece of obsidian resting in his left eye socket, had called out while raising the mug resting in his hand.
"Hey kid! Get over here and have a couple drinks, on us of course! Let's celebrate you making it here. What do you say?"
As soon as the skeleton had finished talking, a few more people did the same thing.
Then another, and another.
The amount kept growing until almost every mercenary sitting in the hall was doing the same, all calling out to him to have a drink and let loose.
However, before Vigil could say anything, he noticed that a certain dwarf with closed eyes had barged into the picture, grabbing him by his hand. As she did so, she glanced - or more like shifted her head - towards the receptionist that was currently sporting a curious look on her face.
"Sorry Tia, but Dread and I already have some plans. So if you could, please smooth this out for us. Thank you!"
Directly after saying this, to the disagreement of all of the cheering mercs, the mischievous dwarf quickly started to tug on Vigil's hand, pulling him away and soon out of the once again bustling hall.
When they had left, Elata, the dwarf, looked back at Vigil whilst letting go of his hand.
"Congratulations on becoming a merc, Dread!"
She said with a charming yet innocent smile on her face. Seeing this, Vigil began to feel something tug at his lips, trying to raise them in a smile of their own.
However, he stopped himself just short of making one.
He, as of right now, did not feel comfortable with showing people more trust then need be. So instead, he looked at her radiant smile for a short moment then replied in a subdued tone.
"Yeah, thanks."