Thud, thud.
A lone figure wandered through a pitch-black, murky space, holding a half-burned candle in his hand.He stopped before a wooden door, then kicked it open and grabbed a bucket of water nearby—dumping it straight onto the two figures lying in the corner of the room.
"Wake the hell up!"
The flickering candlelight dimly revealed a cramped wooden room, furnished like someone's personal bedroom.
"Kh—ack… arghh—!"
Whoosh!
Hadelus clutched his throat, choking on water, while Promet sprang up and attempted to kick the candle-holder.
"Hmph, idiots."
But right before the kick could connect, it suddenly stopped—rather, Promet collapsed to the floor, unable to move.
"Agh—Ughhhh—"
Both Promet and Hadelus groaned in agony. Their limbs refused to move, pain crashing over them in waves.
"Your brains must've been chewed clean in half by a dog."
The candle-holder sneered, twisting his wrist and pointing at it with his tongue.
"Your mana circuits are suppressed. Your joints have all been dislocated too. Best sit still, kids."
With that, he tossed two bottles of water, two pieces of black bread, and the bucket toward them before snuffing out the candle and walking away.
Bam!
The door slammed shut, leaving the two of them alone, curling up from the pain.
"Heh… haha…"
Promet forced himself to move, struggling to adjust his battered body and reset his dislocated bones.For someone accustomed to pain like Promet, this was… impossible. Right now, he wasn't any different from a normal student—only barely physically fit.
After ten minutes, both gave up struggling.After thirty, they had become used to the pain enough to speak.
"…Broken leg, disqualified, terrorists, attacked, kidnapped…"
"Your luck's rotten."
"Doesn't feel like a festival at all, does it?"
Promet reached toward the black bread, but the moment he stretched his hand he screamed from the pain and gave up.
"Here. Take mine."
"Thanks… you're kind."
Promet accepted the piece of bread with a grateful smile, painfully raising it to his mouth and biting down.
"Ugh—this thing is a brick! It's so damn hard!"
He spat it out immediately. Hadelus watched the scene in the dark.
"Hey, what are you doing?"
"Huh? What do you mean?"
Thud.
A sound echoed in the darkness—something swung through the air.
Promet's arms lashed out like whips, a wave of agony shooting through him—but instinct overpowered the pain.
Whoosh.
His arm sliced through the air. He froze, horrified, staring at the space his hand had just passed.He instinctively tried to stand, but all that came out was another groan.
"Whoa—whoa! Don't worry! It's fine!"
The earlier voice spoke again—a young man's voice, trembling with fear and panic.
"Who are you!?" Hadelus barked, his commanding tone swallowing the room whole.
"…Don't yell like that, it scares me~"
"TALK!"
"…Alright, alright, calm down."
Click, click~
A small spark ignited. Having been in darkness so long, all three instinctively shielded their eyes—including the stranger.
"AHH—too bright!"
"What the hell? Aren't you the one who made the light!?"
Hadelus and Promet reluctantly lowered their hands. Through the faint nail-sized spark, they saw a blurry figure smiling widely—cheerful to a suspicious degree.
"Holy shit—ghost!!"
"Get that demon away from me!"
"Hey! Watch your mouth!!!"
Click.
The spark died, plunging the room back into darkness. Only then did the strange voice speak again:
"I'm your cellmate, don't be so rude!!"
"Cellmate? You're supervising us?"
A long sigh drifted through the room. The mysterious figure sparked another tiny flame, illuminating his own dislocated arm.
"Does any guard you know get their joints dislocated?"
"No, but there's a first time for everything."
"…"
"If I were a guard, you two would've been beaten bloody already for spouting crap."
"…"
"…"
"Trying to manipulate us into spilling information?"
"If so, you might as well give up because—"
"Who has time for that!? So what do I have to do to make you believe me?"
The two thought for a moment, then slowly turned toward each other.
"How can you use mana?" Hadelus asked.
"Who used it?" the stranger shot back.
"How did you make sparks with injuries like that—and without mana?"
Silence. Then something small was tossed their way.Promet, unable to see, instinctively reached out—and immediately screamed in pain again.
"You chickens never seen a Zippo lighter before?"
Hadelus picked it up, carefully turning it over in his hands. With everything happening, even death came in all kinds of forms—one more strange object hardly changed anything.
"A Zippo lighter? What is it?"
"Give it here!"
"…"
Click, click~
A spark sprang to life once more, leaving both of them speechless.
"It's just a tool that makes fire. That's all you need to know."
"…"
"…Then… you are…?"
"My name's Ron. Ron Irus."