Chapter 112: The Price of Defiance
The darkness of the underground cell was thick, smelling of damp stone and dried blood. Ren Vority's eyes snapped open. For a moment, his vision was blurred, the blue tint of his tactical eye flickering like a dying lightbulb. His head throbbed with a rhythmic pain, a reminder of the anti-Vane shackles that were still clamped around his wrists.
He groaned, trying to sit up on the cold stone slab. As his senses returned, he realized he wasn't alone. Outside the heavy iron bars, two guards stood at attention, their rifles held tight. One of them noticed Ren's movement and immediately tapped his walkie-talkie.
"Sir! Sir, subject Ren Vority is awake. He's regained consciousness," the guard reported, his voice shaky.
A cold, crisp voice crackled back through the device. "Copy that. I'm coming down now. Keep your weapons trained on him."
Ren leaned his head back against the wall, a bitter smile touching his lips. "So, I'm still in this hole," he muttered to himself. "I expected a trial or an execution... but I guess being a ghost is my new reality."
Minutes passed before the heavy hydraulic doors at the end of the hallway hissed open. The sound of high heels clicking against the concrete floor echoed through the silence. Miss Hima stepped into the light, her presence radiating a pressure so immense that even the guards seemed to shrink. Behind her walked Adam Lee, his face a mask of cold professionalism, and Mina Kimo.
Mina's silver hair covered her eyes as she kept her head down, refusing to look at the man she had betrayed on the plains.
"So, you've finally decided to join us, Ren Vority," Hima said, stopping just inches from the bars. Her eyes were sharp, scanning Ren like a predator assessing its prey.
Ren didn't move. He didn't even look up. "Who are you?"
Hima chuckled, a sound that lacked any warmth. "Oh, how rude. I am Hima, one of the High-Ups of the Royal Council. Some people even call me the Strongest Vaner in Athelgard. My subordinates told me you were a 'chill and soft' person, but it seems your time in the Sector has made you quite prickly."
"What do you want from me, Hima?" Ren spat the name out like it was poison. "If you're here to kill me, get it over with. I'm tired of the talk."
"Kill you? No, no. That would be a waste of a perfectly good weapon," Hima replied, pacing back and forth. "Listen carefully, Butcher. King Zero's life is in danger. The war between Onyx and the Archipelago has created shadows that even the Royal Guard can't illuminate. To protect the King, we are organizing an event—a selection process."
Ren raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued despite himself.
"Two teams," Hima continued. "Team A, led by Mina Kimo. Team B, led by Adam Lee. Each team will have seven elite Vaners under them. The winning team will be granted the honor of becoming the King's Personal Shield. They will be the ones to stand between the Throne and the coming storm."
Ren laughed, a hollow, dry sound that echoed in the small cell. "And where do I fit into this circus? Am I supposed to be the target practice?"
Hima's eyes narrowed. "Don't be modest. Team A is missing a 'Lite Leader'—a sub-commander to guide the Vaners when Mina is occupied. You will be that leader, Ren. You will guide Mina's team to victory, and in return, your 'death' will remain a secret. You will be a shadow protector for the King."
Ren stood up slowly, his chains rattling. "Go to hell, Hima. You think I'd spend my life as a slave to King Zero? The man who let Sector 7 rot? The man who let my sister be taken? I don't care about your teams, your Vaners, or your dying King. Go do your own dirty work."
The atmosphere in the room suddenly changed. The air became heavy, like lead. Hima's face didn't change, but she slowly raised her hand, curling her fingers as if grasping an invisible thread.
Suddenly, Ren felt an invisible force wrap around his throat. He was lifted off the ground, his feet dangling in the air. The pressure was immense, crushing his windpipe, cutting off his oxygen. He clawed at his neck, but there was nothing to grab. Hima was manipulating the Vane energy in the very air around him, turning it into a physical noose.
"I don't think you understand, Ren," Hima said, her voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "I wasn't asking. This is a directive. You will be the Lite Leader for Team A, or you will die in this cell tonight. I can make your death very slow and very painful. Do you understand now?"
She held him there for a long moment, watching him struggle, watching his face turn a deep shade of purple. Finally, she flicked her wrist, and Ren crashed back onto the stone floor, gasping for air, his lungs burning.
"Never..." Ren wheezed, clutching his throat. "I will never... be a dog for the King."
Hima sighed, shaking her head. "I expected more from a soldier. But it seems you need a more personal lesson."
She gestured to the guard. "Open the door."
The heavy bars slid open with a metallic groan. Hima stepped into the cell, her aura flaring. Ren forced himself to stand, his heart hammering against his ribs. He knew he was weakened, he knew his Vane was suppressed, but his instincts as an Army Officer took over.
"You made a mistake coming in here, Hima!" Ren roared. He lunged forward, throwing a desperate punch aimed directly at her face.
Hima didn't even flinch. In a movement so fast the human eye couldn't track it, she caught Ren's fist in mid-air. Her grip was like a hydraulic press, the sound of Ren's knuckles cracking filling the cell.
"Is that it?" she asked, her voice bored.
Before Ren could retract his hand, Hima's other fist buried itself deep into his stomach. The impact was like being hit by a freight train. The air was violently forced out of Ren's lungs. A fountain of blood erupted from his mouth, spraying across the grey stone wall.
Ren collapsed to his knees, his vision swimming in red. A sharp pain in his jaw told him he had lost a tooth; it clattered onto the floor, stained with crimson. He tried to look up, but another wave of nausea hit him.
"Come on," Hima mocked, standing over him. "I thought the Butcher of Sector 7 was made of sterner stuff. You're pathetic."
Mina, who had been watching from the hallway, finally snapped. Seeing Ren—the man who had protected her, the man who had shared his soul with her—broken and bleeding on the floor was too much. Her eyes flared with a sudden, violent rage. She took a step forward, her hand reaching for her weapon, her intent clear: she was going to stop Hima, even if it meant her own death.
"Hima! Stop it! You'll kill him!" Mina screamed, her voice cracking with emotion.
But before she could move another inch, Adam Lee stepped in her path. He held his hand out, his expression as cold and unyielding as stone.
"Don't, Mina," Adam said, his voice a low warning. "This is necessary. He needs to know his place in the new world. If you interfere now, you'll both be executed."
Mina glared at Adam, her teeth gritted. "He's bleeding, Adam! She's going to kill him!"
Adam didn't budge. He signaled her with a sharp look to stay back. "The Prince has his plans. Hima has hers. We are just pieces on the board. Stay back."
Inside the cell, Ren lay in a pool of his own blood, his breathing shallow and ragged. He could hear Mina's screams, but they sounded like they were underwater. He looked at the tooth on the floor, then at Hima's polished boots.
He was broken, he was defeated, and the girl he had trusted was being held back by his rival. The war for the King's safety had begun, and Ren Vority was being dragged into it—not as a hero, but as a wounded animal.
Hima looked down at him one last time. "We start tomorrow, Lite Leader. Clean yourself up. You have a team to guide."
She walked out of the cell, the door slamming shut behind her, leaving Ren alone in the dark with the scent of his own blood.