"Those who dream of creating a perfect world often forget
How many souls must be destroyed to make it real."
The footsteps of the red-eyed man faded behind the tightly sealed iron door. His voice echoed faintly through the dark corridor of the underground prison, leaving behind a silence that pierced to the bone. Minato sat against the cold wall beside Elvira. The magical chains binding their hands still glowed faintly, disrupting the flow of energy within their bodies.
The air in the room was damp, and the stench of rotting flesh crept like an invisible fog. Behind the iron bars across from them sat a hunched figure—not human anymore. Its body was thin, its skin a pale gray like dust, and magical veins throbbed beneath the surface like bloodthirsty roots.
"That..." Elvira swallowed hard, her voice barely a whisper.
"No longer human," Minato murmured. "It's one of their failed experiments. Maybe one of hundreds... or thousands."
Minato slowly stood up, the chains on his hands clinking faintly. His gaze was no longer fixed on the creature, but on the prison wall covered in crude carvings. Human faces—etched with pain and fear. As if they wished to be remembered, even just as ghosts in the darkness.
"Can you hear them, world?" Minato whispered, his voice heavy. "This is the price of ambition. Bodies turned into weapons, souls sacrificed in the name of 'progress.' They call it the future… but who do they mean? And who is left behind in the shadows?"
His hands clenched. "If justice means trampling the weak, I reject it. If power means silencing the innocent, I reject it. I will not be the chain that binds others… like the chains of this world once bound me."
Elvira looked at Minato with a deep gaze, then said softly, "You're thinking too much again."
"I just... saw something I once lived through." Minato didn't turn. "Back then, my mother was gravely ill. But no one helped. We were nobodies. And those with power... just watched from their ivory towers and laughed."
Elvira moved closer and grasped Minato's bound hand. "You're not alone now. Your past isn't a chain. It's a flame—that keeps you moving forward."
Her words were simple, but warm—like a small fire in a frozen night. Minato closed his eyes for a moment, letting that warmth settle in his chest.
Suddenly, the creature behind the bars moved its head. Its gaze was empty, but somehow... there was a faint glimmer of awareness within. It lifted its hand, and a crack of light appeared on the floor.
"It's... opening a path?" Elvira's eyes widened.
"Maybe... some part of it still remembers being human."
The magical crack widened, forming a gap in the floor. Minato took a deep breath, focusing the remaining energy within him. Even though his magic was suppressed, there was still a spark—enough for one blast.
"Archa Tempest—Ignition Pulse!"
Instantly, ancient magic surged from Minato's body through his feet, forming a glowing magic circle. The pressure from the explosion shattered the magical chains on his hands. Elvira immediately summoned water magic, forming a thin blade to slice through her restraints.
The iron bars shattered under their combined strength. Without hesitation, they ran through the dark corridor. The walls around them were covered in ancient symbols and writings in a language unknown.
The creature didn't follow. It stood still, trembling. But as Minato and Elvira reached the end of the corridor, a broken but clear voice rang out:
"Destroy... them... for us…"
Minato stopped. He turned back, looking at the creature—not as a monster, but as a victim. As a witness to the rot hidden behind the curtains of power.
"I swear," he said softly.
He and Elvira stepped out of the underground prison. But the world above was no longer the same.
Minato no longer carried just revenge… but a vow.
To those who could no longer speak.
To those sacrificed for a so-called better world.
And far away, a secret organization obsessed with ancient magic began to realize one thing:
The magic had chosen its own path.