The day started with a bang. Sebastian flung open the cell door with strength clearly enhanced by magic, the heavy metal slamming into the wall hard enough to send a shower of dust and rubble cascading to the ground. The sudden explosion of noise and movement jolted me from the fragile mental state I'd carefully crafted in preparation for today's feeding.

Sebastian was suddenly inches from my face, eyes wild with excitement, lips stretched into a gleeful, maniacal grin. His posture was strangely playful, leaning forward conspiratorially with both hands hidden behind his back. I instinctively tried to shift my head, hoping to get a glimpse of what he was hiding, but he easily intercepted my movement, blocking my view with his unsettling stare.

"Do you know what day it is?" he asked, his voice brimming with malicious delight. He leaned even closer, the intensity in his eyes practically burning into mine.

Ever since I'd opened my second gate, Sebastian had maintained a strict schedule of feeding every day. Over the weeks and months that followed, he had gradually abandoned the physical torture altogether, focusing exclusively on drawing mana from Amerigo and me. Amerigo believed this change indicated Sebastian was slipping further into addiction, something we both viewed as a good thing, since it meant his end was getting closer. But witnessing Sebastian's erratic excitement today had a chill running down my spine. Deviations from his routine were dangerous, and with the unstable monster Sebastian had become, any unexpected change had me convinced it could very well be my last day alive.

"Still no words?" Sebastian scoffed, straightening up with exaggerated disappointment. "It's getting boring, you know."

As he pulled back, I caught a glimpse of the small wooden box he had been hiding. It was intricately carved with graceful symbols and swirls. The craftsmanship suggested aesthetics rather than arcane purpose, yet I couldn't shake the thought that, under different circumstances, it was exactly the kind of valuable trinket I would've happily stolen on a job. Making me intrigued about its contents despite my best efforts to suppress my emotions.

Sebastian's gaze remained locked onto me, eagerly tracking my reaction as he slowly moved one hand to the top of the box, his fingers resting on the delicate clasp.

"Well," he continued, a sinister glee dancing behind his eyes, "maybe this will finally loosen that stubborn tongue of yours."

He paused, savoring the tension, eyes glittering with manic delight.

"Today," he announced grandly, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, "is our anniversary. A whole year since you murdered my dear brother."

As he spoke, a sharp cracking sound punctuated his words. My eyes snapped down to the box, realizing that Sebastian's grip had tightened so much that he'd inadvertently splintered part of the beautiful carving. He seemed oblivious to the damage, utterly consumed by the madness driving him. It was becoming increasingly clear that Sebastian was losing the battle against his own addiction, barely able to contain the overwhelming strength coursing through him. It seemed to me that he was constantly using mana and was no longer capable of turning it off.

"It's been a fun year, hasn't it?" Sebastian's voice dripped with cruel amusement, his laughter a manic echo that rattled me deep inside. It had changed so much since the first time I heard it, becoming darker, more twisted, and chilling beyond description.

His words triggered a sharp pang of loss that stabbed at my core, threatening to pull my carefully maintained composure apart. I couldn't believe I'd spent an entire year in this hellhole, suspended like a piece of meat and reduced to a toy for his twisted desires. I smothered that dangerous spiral of thoughts before it could take hold, refusing to show even the slightest crack. Sebastian craved my suffering and I wouldn't—no, I couldn't—grant him the satisfaction.

"For me, anyway, it's been exquisite," he continued, a disturbing gleam brightening his eyes. "And I thought, to commemorate such a special milestone, I'd give you a gift. A truly wonderful gift. Something special. A tribute, if you will, to how we began this journey. Something to remind you exactly why you're here."

With exaggerated care, he unclasped the ornate lid of the small wooden box he carried, opening it with deliberate slowness, savoring the moment. Inside, resting grotesquely on a bed of black orchids, sat a pair of freshly removed, bloody eyeballs.

I simply looked up at him, utterly indifferent. The sight was gruesome, shocking in its own way, but after all the horror I'd endured at Sebastian's hands, it barely registered. So there was no need to fake my boredom at his attempt to shock me,

Sebastian's smug grin faltered, replaced with confusion, then anger as he processed my bored reaction. Frowning, he raised the box directly in front of his face, intending some theatrical flourish, but the hinged lid blocked his view. With an irritated growl, he tore the lid off entirely and hurled it violently against the stone wall behind me. It splintered into pieces upon impact, fragments scattering across the floor. A small part of me lamented the loss of such a finely crafted box, and the coin it would have fetched if sold.

With nothing obstructing him now, Sebastian lifted the box again, positioning the gruesome eyes in front of his own and adopting a deeper, mocking voice. "What's the matter, Brandon? Do you not recognize me?"

He peered out from behind the box, searching eagerly for any flicker of emotion from me. Finding none, his expression shifted again, a twisted delight growing across his features.

"Oh," he cackled darkly, realization dawning with gleeful malice. "You don't recognize them at all, do you? You really don't remember?"

His laughter echoed sharply in the stone chamber, his voice filled with cruel triumph.

"Just one little year, and you've already forgotten the eyes of your beloved mentor."

I stared intently at the eyes, trying desperately to place them, but for the life of me, I couldn't. They belonged to someone I must have known, judging by the way Sebastian was speaking about them, yet to me they just looked like any old eyes except they were lifeless, cold, and devoid of any spark or familiarity. I couldn't even discern their color through the fog of death that clouded them.

"He forgot you as well, you know," Sebastian whispered cruelly. "Denied ever knowing you as more than just a neighbor, in fact. Very admirable. Very brave. Slavi wanted his head immediately, but I couldn't allow that. No, this was far more fitting."

My chest tightened as recognition finally hit me, swiftly followed by a flood of grief and guilt. Those dead eyes belonged to Billy. The feeling struck me with such force I nearly gasped aloud, but I fought hard to suppress it. I felt a sickening pang of hurt at the thought of Billy denying me, even though logically I knew he'd only done it to protect himself. Still, the thought stung more than I cared to admit.

"I personally watched him die amidst the Demon's Bane," Sebastian continued, savoring every word. "Oh, what a fighter he was! No wonder Slavi didn't want to go along with my plan. For a normie, he was exceptional. If I hadn't ordered him and the other prison conscripts to push forward, they might have actually survived the first day, thanks to his bravery alone. But, of course that couldn't be allowed. For him, survival wasn't part of the plan."

He let out a theatrical sigh, clearly enjoying my mounting fury.

"It wouldn't do to have him survive and cause further complications. Fortunately, strength alone can't save you when it comes to those beautiful, wicked flowers. Eventually, even that mountain of a man succumbed. They slowed him just enough, and a demon's blade found its mark, cutting him down. Luckily, I got there just in time and managed to pull his body away. I couldn't let these pretty things go to waste, after all."

White-hot anger surged inside me at the thought of Billy falling to the invaders, all orchestrated by the monster standing before me. Billy had died fighting, only because Sebastian had willed it. He'd died because of me.

Sebastian laughed delightedly, clearly relishing the torment on my face.

"Yes, that's it. Feel the anger," he whispered, leaning close to my ear, pressing the box closer to my eyes. "Know that Billy died in agony, all because of you. You should know… he was still alive when I took his eyes. Still fighting. Still stubborn. I made sure he understood exactly why it was happening. I made certain the last words he heard were mine. Letting him know it was all your fault. That his life was ending, and that his eyes were being taken as a gift to you. Your mentor, your friend—he died knowing you had condemned him."

Sebastian pulled back to drink in my pain, but my gaze was locked onto Billy's eyes. It felt like they were looking back at me, piercing right through my soul. I could almost see Billy's stern, disappointed expression, admonishing me for the mistakes I'd made. Mistakes that had cost him his life and robbed him of dignity. All because I wasn't good enough.

I knew Sebastian kept speaking, his voice rising and falling in manic jubilation, but the words ceased to register as I sank into a pit of grief and rage. The eyes stared back at me, unblinking, filled with accusations of betrayal and failure. Even as Sebastian moved them onto a stand—carefully positioned so they remained perfectly in my line of sight—the silent judgment continued. Only when he began draining my mana was I violently pulled from my reverie. The sensation was too excruciating to ignore, forcing my mind back into the agonizing present.

"Yes, that's it!" Sebastian exclaimed, his voice dripping with ecstasy as he finished drawing his fill from my body. "I am so close, I can feel it!"

He drained me until barely seven percent of my capacity remained before hurriedly moving to Amerigo and repeating the process. My vision blurred, threatening to drag me once again into the hollow depths of Billy's accusing gaze, but Sebastian's sudden cheer cut through my darkening thoughts.

"There! It's there!" he roared triumphantly, practically dancing with excitement. "My fourth gate is OPEN!"

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My head snapped up at his declaration, panic surging as I strained desperately to catch any sign of Amerigo's survival. I feared that Sebastian might have drained him completely in his hunger for advancement. Relief flooded through me when I caught the faint but unmistakable sound of Amerigo's ragged breathing.

Meanwhile, Sebastian's madness reached new heights. "Finally, at long last!" he raved, his voice fluctuating wildly between furious whispers and victorious shouts. "Now, the Houses will truly see what I'm capable of. No longer shall we be looked down upon! No longer considered the dregs! House Brutan will rise on the back of my strength, and everyone—everyone will witness my glory!"

Lost in the grandeur of his newfound power, he barely spared a glance at either of us, hastily rechaining Amerigo before storming from the cell. He slammed the door behind him with magic-enhanced strength, causing a chunk of stone to break loose and fall into view from above.

In the sudden silence that followed, neither Amerigo nor I dared speak. The moment we had long anticipated was here. Sebastian had finally crossed the threshold into the realm Amerigo promised would destroy him. My heart beat with a fierce and cautious hope. Yet, even with the promise of Sebastian's impending doom, the accusing eyes still held my gaze, silently condemning me for my failures and broken promises.

I fell into Billy's dead, empty gaze. Rage boiled inside me, devouring what little was left of my sanity as I railed against my own helplessness, my complete inability to protect those who mattered. Billy's lifeless eyes became a reflection of my failure, each second spent staring at them driving me deeper into a pit of self-loathing and madness. I barely registered Amerigo's repeated calls, his voice a distant echo.

"Brandon!" he practically shouted, breaking the hold Billy's gaze had on me.

"What?!" I snapped, tearing my eyes away.

"Listen to me!" Amerigo insisted urgently. "It is nearly time. I know what you are experiencing is unbearable, but you need to bury it. Sebastian has reached Orange and is already using his power. The world is rejecting him, pulling mana from him just as he has done to us. His end is near. We must be ready."

"Oh, I'll be ready," I growled, my eyes sliding back to Billy's cold stare. "I'll kill that bastard myself if I have to."

"Good," Amerigo responded calmly, deliberately. "But there should not be any need for that. It is after where we will need to fight. I do not know precisely when he will return, but I suspect it will be soon. If he is not here by tomorrow night, we must assume he is already dead and escape immediately."

Amerigo's voice was steady, his confidence bolstering me. His calm conviction was infectious, restoring a small fragment of clarity in my grief-clouded mind. He had been consistent with his proclamation and so I had begun to believe it, not just hope it was true.

"I'll be ready," I repeated through gritted teeth, my body tensing in preparation.

Silence descended once again, heavy and expectant, but it didn't last long.

Sebastian burst into the room, slamming the iron door with such force that it rattled on its hinges. He collapsed onto the cold stone floor, a hideous wreck of a man. Orange patches glowed sickly on his skin, pulsing and flaring sporadically as though his very flesh was rejecting him. His chest heaved, gasping desperately for air like a drowning man, limbs twitching uncontrollably. His eyes, filled with a burning, rabid fury, fixed on me, and then on Amerigo, before returning to meet mine.

"Curse you and your pathetic recovery levels!" he spat viscously at me. "I should have the option for more!"

In the blink of an eye, his twisted body surged forward, his shaking hands quickly moving to unchain Amerigo.

"Now, Brandon!" Amerigo shouted, signaling the moment had arrived.

The sheer fury roaring through my veins gave me no room for hesitation. I had no thought left for caution or self-preservation. It wasn't so much that I had come to fully trust Amerigo. Sure, it had definitely developed over the time we had been locked up together but in that moment, I was willing to sacrifice everything for a chance at hurting Sebastian. If I had to tear myself apart to damage him then I would do it without hesitation.

The sounds of a desperate struggle filled the room as Amerigo fought back, giving me the push I needed. With a savage cry, I yanked downwards, pulling my wrists against the chains with every ounce of strength left in my ravaged body. Pain exploded through me, nearly blinding in its intensity as flesh ripped and ligaments tore. Skin shredded, blood gushing freely as I strained even harder. I screamed, a sound of pure agony and hatred combined, pushing beyond limits I never imagined possible. With a sickening pop and a final, agonizing tug, my right hand tore free, dangling grotesquely by a single strand of muscle and sinew. Darkness threatened to consume me, pain surging in waves so overwhelming that I teetered on the edge of consciousness. Only the sound of Amerigo's continued struggle and my burning desire for revenge kept me from passing out.

With one hand finally free, the circuit was broken, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, I could fully channel my mana. I threw both my gates wide open, pouring power into my disfigured right hand. The wounds healed quickly. The torn skin and shattered bones reknitting themselves as fresh strength surged through my body. The cost was heavy because of all the damage and the speed in which I fixed it, but in that desperate moment, it felt utterly worth it.

Using my now-healed left arm to pivot, I twisted my torso painfully until I had a clear view of the struggle behind me. Amerigo was clinging fiercely onto Sebastian, legs locked around his torso, desperately fighting to stop the monster from getting loose. But Sebastian already had his hands on a thick iron key, frantically working to unlock Amerigo's manacles. It hit me instantly: as soon as Amerigo's chains came off, Sebastian would drain him completely dry.

My eyes flashed to the manacles binding my own ankles, and suddenly, an idea flared into life.

Driven purely by instinct, I contorted my body upward with a grunt of effort, stretching my free hand up towards the lock around my ankles. It was a magical chain, true enough, but the lock itself was just plain metal, nothing more than a standard tumbler design, one I'd picked countless times before. I'd picked locks in the dark, in the rain, half-dead. This one wouldn't stop me.

But first I needed a tool.

I'd tried and failed many times before to use my body morphing ability. The chains had always blocked me, burning my mana before the ability could fully manifest. But now, without those restraints, I had a shot to get it right. It was a gamble but there weren't many options available to me.

Channeling all my remaining mana, I focused entirely on the image of my finger becoming a pick. Pure determination filled my thoughts. My mana surged rapidly—five percent, ten percent, fifteen percent—until at twenty percent, I felt my flesh shift. A pulse of euphoria rushed through me. My index finger had transformed: thinner, sharper, the perfect shape to pick any lock. Best of all, it still felt entirely natural, as though it had always been that way.

I nearly laughed aloud in relief and triumph, but a sickening click snapped my attention back to Amerigo and Sebastian. The chains binding Amerigo fell loose, clattering to the stone floor. Sebastian looked directly into my eyes, a sinister promise clear in his gaze as he prepared to drain Amerigo completely.

Heart racing, I jammed my newly-formed pick finger into my ankle lock, twisting and probing desperately until I heard the familiar click of tumblers. With a satisfying snap, the lock opened and I dropped suddenly downward, held painfully by just my left wrist. Pain surged through my shoulder, but I ignored it.

I whipped my gaze around just in time to see Sebastian envelop Amerigo. Sickening orange patches flared brightly across Sebastian's skin as he fed mercilessly, Amerigo's groans turning into weak, tortured gasps. I surged forward in a desperate attempt to reach them but was viciously yanked back by my chained wrist.

Helplessness and rage exploded inside me. Amerigo was dying before my eyes, and Sebastian would win. Fury overwhelmed reason; I pulled with every ounce of strength I had, tearing flesh, shredding muscle, and shattering bone until I finally ripped my hand free. A new shock of agony flooded my mind as my left hand dropped uselessly onto the ground, severed completely at the wrist. But I ignored the pain. Nothing else mattered. Amerigo was dying.

Without hesitation, I charged at Sebastian's back, launching myself into the air with a two-footed kick aimed at his spine. The blow landed hard and finally broke his grip, sending him stumbling forward, releasing Amerigo who hung limply from his chains.

"ARGH!" Sebastian screamed in raw, animalistic fury. His face had turned a sickly, vibrant orange, the skin peeling and sloughing off in hideous patches. He raised a trembling hand, conjuring shadows into it… Only for his entire arm to suddenly go limp and hang uselessly at his side. This sight seemed to break something within him, intensifying his rage. If there was any sanity left inside him, I was sure it was gone after that.

He lunged at me, a shadow of his former strength but still dangerous in his desperation. Instinctively, I raised my legs and braced with my left stump, ignoring the white-hot pain that surged through my nerves as his weight crashed down on me. His hands clawed desperately for my throat, but I managed to twist away, slipping through his grasp. The strange affliction ravaging his body had clearly diminished his once overwhelming strength, the only reason I stood a chance in my battered condition.

We grappled violently, rolling across the floor until my head collided softly against the wall, not hard enough to injure, but enough to signal that I had nowhere left to retreat. Sebastian's ruined face hovered inches above mine, his usual sadistic delight replaced by unfiltered agony and sheer rage. The bright orange rot now covered nearly all his skin, peeling away like ancient parchment, leaving behind raw, exposed muscle and bone. It was a grotesque sight, the image searing itself into my memory forever.

Sebastian's entire body suddenly spasmed, causing him to gasp and stagger briefly. I desperately tried to capitalize on this opening, but before I could gather my strength, he collapsed on top of me again, clutching at my skin. This time he shifted tactics, locking me in place as his presence invaded my gates. A gut-wrenching sense of violation tore through me as I felt my mana begin to be forcibly ripped away.

Fear and desperation surged within me as I kicked, bucked, and scrambled beneath him. My hand searched frantically for anything to defend myself, and just as the edges of my vision blurred from the rapid drain, my fingers closed around a rough stone. My grip was weakened and awkward from my changed finger, but sheer panic gave me strength.

I brought the stone crashing down on Sebastian's skull with a wordless cry. Blood splattered, yet he refused to release his hold. Again and again, I struck, hammering wildly until, at last, he stumbled, breaking the draining connection for an instant.

That tiny break was enough. With newfound fury, I attacked relentlessly, raising and bringing down the rock repeatedly, screaming silently in rage and anguish. Blood and bone gave way, spraying my face and chest, yet still, I continued, venting weeks of torment with each savage blow. I didn't stop until a sharp pain exploded in my palm, shards of shattered stone embedding themselves deeply in my skin.

Stunned, I dropped the remains of the rock, breathing heavily as clarity returned. Beneath me, Sebastian's head was reduced to a featureless mass of bloody pulp and shattered bone. He was dead. My tormentor, my nightmare, finally gone.

A sob of relief and disbelief burst from my chest, raw and uncontrollable. But the moment of triumph vanished as quickly as it arrived, replaced by a sickening dread.

"Amerigo," I whispered urgently, suddenly aware of the crushing silence in the room. "Amerigo!"

I staggered toward him, praying he'd just passed out from the ordeal, even as my gut tightened with dread. I reached out tentatively, gently turning his limp, battered form towards me.

As soon as my hand touched his cold, motionless body, I knew. His eyes were closed and there were no signs of life.

It struck me that it was the first time I was seeing his face despite all the time we had spent together. Now the only image I have of him in my mind is of his lifeless corpse. He had been my companion through the hardest of times but I only knew what his face looked like in death. I didn't know what he looked like when he spoke. When he laughed. When he smiled.

A profound sense of loss settled over me at the revelation. Pounded home by the fact that I could have saved him if I had been faster. But I hadn't been.

I had been too slow, too weak, and Amerigo had paid the price for it.

I stood there, in that horrible room, looking at his lifeless body, with Billy's eyes watching me from their bed of flowers. Two people dead because I wasn't good enough to do what I needed to, to do what was expected of me. Two people that helped me and then died because of my shortcomings.

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