Don's heart began to race.
"Who?"
"The torturers. They come every half hour or so. For me, mostly." His voice dropped to barely a whisper. "Whatever you do, don't let them see you're afraid. Fear just makes them enjoy it more."
The footsteps grew louder, closer. Don could hear voices now—guttural, laughing, speaking in a language that sounded like grinding stones and breaking glass.
Then light—torchlight, harsh and flickering—spilled down the corridor. Three figures appeared, and Don's newly transformed body tensed despite the exhaustion.
Demons. Smaller than the Blood King had been in Don's fragmented memories, but no less terrifying. Their skin ranged from deep red to sickly gray, their eyes glowing yellow in the torchlight.
One carried a whip that seemed to be made of living thorns. Another held branding irons that glowed with an internal heat. The third simply grinned, revealing rows of needle-like teeth.
They stopped in front of the boy's cell.
"Time for your lesson, traitor," the one with the whip said in heavily accented Common tongue. "Have you remembered your place yet?"
The boy said nothing, but Don saw his hands clench.
The cell door opened with a grinding screech. Two demons entered while the third watched, still grinning.
"Wait—" Don found himself speaking before he could stop himself. "He hasn't done anything!"
All three demons turned to look at him. The silence that followed was suffocating.
Then the one with the needle teeth laughed—a sound like nails on glass. "Oh, the new toy speaks! How precious." He turned back to the boy. "You hear that, half-breed? You've made a friend already."
The boy met Don's eyes across the corridor. There was warning there, and something else Don couldn't quite identify. Then he looked away.
"I'm not a demon," he said quietly, almost like a prayer. "I'm not—"
The whip cracked.
The boy's scream echoed off the stone walls.
Don pressed himself back against his own cell wall, his hands covering his ears, but he couldn't block out the sounds. The crack of the whip. The sizzle of burning flesh.
The broken, gasping breaths between screams.
And through it all, the demons laughed.
[Warning: Host experiencing extreme psychological stress]
[Madness: Increasing to 2%]
[Recommendation: Activate emotional suppression protocols? Y/N]
No. Don gritted his teeth. I need to remember this. I need to remember what they are.
The torture lasted ten minutes that felt like hours. When the demons finally left, still laughing, the boy lay crumpled in the corner of his cell.
Blood pooled beneath him, and the smell of burned flesh filled the air.
Don crawled to the bars separating their cells. "Are you—can you—"
"I'm fine," the boy gasped out. His voice was raw, shredded. "Happens… every time. I'll… heal. Eventually."
"Why?" Don's hands gripped the bars so hard they should have bent. "Why are they doing this?"
"Because I betrayed them." The boy's laugh was wet, painful. "And because… it's fun for them. Demons don't need… reasons. They just need… excuses."
Don watched helplessly as the boy's breathing gradually steadied. Minutes passed.
The wounds on his back—Don could see them now through his torn shirt—began to close, but slowly, far slower than Don's own Immortality would have healed them.
"You said your name was…?" Don asked quietly.
The boy was silent for a long moment. Then: "I didn't. But… you can call me Kael. That's… what my mother named me. Before…"
He didn't finish the sentence.
"Don," Don offered. "My name is Don."
"Don." Kael tested the name. "Strange name. Old name. Means something, doesn't it?"
"I don't know. My father never explained."
"Fathers rarely do."
They sat in silence after that, each lost in their own thoughts. Don's mana continued to drain slowly—210, then 205, then 200. The collar pulsed against his throat like a heartbeat he couldn't escape.
[Time Remaining on Quest: 06:17:09]
Six hours. He had to survive six more hours.
And then what?
The question hung in his mind, unanswered.
Outside their cells, in the darkness of the dungeon, something dripped. Water, or blood, or something worse.
And from somewhere high above, so faint Don almost missed it, came the sound of screaming.
"Source?" Don's voice was barely a whisper, hoarse from screaming. "Source, where are you? Why aren't you speaking?"
Silence.
The kind of silence that felt wrong. Heavy. Oppressive.
Don's chest tightened. Ever since he'd connected to the Source, she'd always been there—answering his questions, guiding him, even scolding him.
Her presence had become a constant, like a heartbeat he'd grown used to.
But now?
Nothing.
"Source, please…" His hands trembled as he clutched at the collar around his neck. "Say something. Anything. Just… let me know you're still there."
Still nothing.
For the first time since this nightmare began, true fear crept into Don's heart. Not fear of the demons. Not fear of death. But fear of being truly, utterly alone.
What if the collar didn't just block my Imagination? What if it cut me off from her entirely?
The thought made his stomach twist.
Then, without warning, a faint glow materialized before his eyes—soft blue light coalescing into familiar text. But something was different. The usual crisp, clean interface looked… strained. Flickering. As if struggling to maintain its form.
[System… Status…]
[Conn…ection… Weak…]
[Coll…ar… Inter…ference…]
The words stuttered across his vision, breaking apart and reforming like a signal fighting through static.
Don's breath caught. "You're still there. You're still—"
[…Yes…]
The words came slowly, each one seeming to take immense effort.
[…I am… always… here…]
[…But the collar… it suppresses… our bond…]
[…I can… barely… reach you…]
[…Don… listen carefully…]
[…The collar… is draining… more than mana…]
[…It feeds on… our connection… our bond…]
[…If it remains… for too long… I may… lose you…]
[…You must… remove it… somehow…]
[…I cannot… help you… while it remains…]
[…But know this… I am… always… with you…]
[…Even if… you cannot… hear me…]
[…Hold on…]
[…Hold on…]
She was gone.
Silence returned—absolute, suffocating silence that pressed against his ears like a physical weight.
Don sat motionless in the darkness, staring at the space where the flickering text had been moments before. The faint blue glow had vanished completely, leaving only the oppressive gloom of the dungeon.
She's really gone, he thought, the realization settling over him like ice water. I'm alone now.
But then—
A new light materialized before his eyes.
Not the soft, warm blue of the Source's presence. This was colder. Sharper. Clinical.
The interface that appeared was different from anything he'd seen before—stark white text on a black background, devoid of the usual warmth. No stuttering. No struggle.
Just cold, mechanical efficiency.
[SYSTEM STATUS UPDATE]
[EMERGENCY PROTOCOLS ACTIVATED]
[OPERATING IN AUTONOMOUS MODE]
• Location: Royal Castle Dungeons - Level 5 or 6 Underground
• Time Remaining on Quest: 06:16:40
• Current Status: Imprisoned
• Mana: 195/650 (draining)
• HP: 10/-
• Madness: 2%
• New Condition: Suppression Collar (Imagination skill blocked)
[New Character Encountered]
• Name: Kael (Self-proclaimed)
• Apparent Age: 15
• Species: Half-demon
• Status: Prisoner, accused traitor
• Threat Level: Unknown
• Trustworthiness: Unknown
[Quest Update]
• Primary Quest: Survive for 12 hours - [IN PROGRESS]
• Current Obstacle: Imprisoned and collared
• Warning: Mana depletion in approximately 3 hours if collar remains
[NOTICE]
[Primary consciousness connection: SEVERED]
[Suppression Collar interference level: 94%]
[Switching to baseline system functions]
[All non-essential functions: SUSPENDED]
[Essential survival protocols: ACTIVE]
[Note: This system will continue to monitor Host's condition]
[Note: Reconnection will occur automatically upon collar removal]
[WARNING: Do not attempt to communicate with this interface]
[WARNING: This is NOT the Source]
[WARNING: This is emergency backup only]
[System standby mode activated]
[Monitoring will continue]
[Good luck, Host]