Irregular trees with their claw-shaped branches were reaching out towards the sky, blocking the last bits of sunlight. The air was suffocating with the foul smell of burned flesh and rotting death. Thunder cracked again and again, shaking the earth and drowning the forest in its roar. Rain poured down as the thunderstorm kept hitting the soggy ground, lighting up the chaos with blinding flashes.
Within this violent thunderstorm, a figure shuddered. It was a lean teenage boy, slumped on the ground. The storm, along with all the thunderbolts, was targeted towards him. Trying to annihilate his existence. His body twisted, and every nerve screamed with pain. Due to this intense pain, he finally gained consciousness.
It took him a while to stabilize his eyesight. Before he could even begin to comprehend his surroundings, an impossibly thick thunderbolt descended from the sky. He tried to dodge and roll away but could not. Golden chains burst from nowhere, wrapping tight around him, biting into his flesh. A scream tore from his throat as the lightning electrified his body. His hands flexed uselessly against the chains. His nails made his tight fist bleed.
He was bombarded endlessly. Each thunderbolt acted as a fresh wave of torture. His skin was scorched. His bones vibrated with the impact, drawing him closer to death with every strike. While lying flat on the cold ground, he could smell his own flesh burning. The consciousness he had just gained was fading again.
But just as death threatened to claim him, a strange coldness poured into his core. It was not a chill that brought comfort, but a sharp, biting clarity. It did not heal his wounds. His body remained brutally damaged and close to death. Yet, this intense coldness seemed to stitch his mind back together, drawing him from the edge.
This process was endless. Whenever he neared death, this chilling vitality surged into him. It kept him alive to suffer. This endless torture was far too much for a sixteen-year-old boy. The pain should have broken him. Yet, something held him here, refusing to let him go.
Amidst all the chaos, a strange resilience began to bloom. And slowly, with each passing day, the chained boy learned to detach and bear the pain. Eventually he regained his sanity. Unlike the endless momentary consciousness, for the first time, he was really sober.
When sanity returned, a chilling calm settled over him, allowing him to truly observe his situation for the first time. He had tried to break free of these chains every single day, but he had failed. Now, he saw them for what they were. The chains were made of black gold, but this black gold was shining with a vicious glow; obviously this chain wasn't simple. He realized escaping the chain was impossible, so he focused on studying his surroundings. As his eyes shifted towards the grim landscape, he noticed Uncle Moe standing a short distance away, silently observing everything.
A flicker of genuine concern crossed Uncle Moe's usually stoic features. "Master," he said, his voice filled with relief, "you have regained your sanity."
Valerius, bound by the shining golden chains, blinked slowly. Although his mind was clear now, still his head felt like an echoing chamber. He coughed and swallowed his saliva to wet his dry mouth. "Where are we, Uncle?"
Uncle Moe glanced at the trees and spoke in a voice weighted with something Valerius had never heard before. "That, I do not know for certain, Master. But I do know that you have been sealed." A heavy silence stretched between them before he continued, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "And this place... is truly strange. There's no energy in the air; it feels completely barren. The people here are weak, and this dimension itself is so fragile that when I drew even a fraction of my power, the very will of this place attacked me."
Valerius' eyes widened, and a rare surge of surprise cut through the lingering haze of pain. "The will of this dimension attacked you?" He repeated suspiciously.
"Indeed, Master," Uncle Moe confirmed.
"For using just a fraction of your strength?" Valerius pressed.
"Yes, Master."
Valerius' gaze fell, absorbed in thought. "Then I suppose we are in the biggest wasteland possible." A new question surfaced in his mind.
"How did we get here? I don't remember anything. The last thing I recall is… watching Mother—" His words faltered abruptly. He squeezed his eyes shut, struggling to hold back the painful memory. Recently, the endless torture had been almost unbearable. But as his sanity returned, the full force of his suffering overwhelmed him like a flood unleashed. Tears welled up in his eyes.
Uncle Moe remained silent, patiently waiting for the storm of Valerius' emotions to subside. When Valerius' ragged breaths began to even out, the old man spoke, his tone gentle, almost solemn. "I do not know the specifics, Master. But when you witnessed the demise of your mother, your bloodline reacted. It tore a rift in space; finding the opportunity, I jumped in the space rift while carrying you."
"My bloodline reacted?" Valerius murmured, still confused.
"Yes, Master. I am certain."
Valerius let out a bitter laugh while his fingers curled into a tight fist. "I spent years chasing control over my bloodline, yet not once did it show even a flicker of power like this." And then, he fixed his gaze upon Uncle Moe, his expression hardened with resolve. "How long has it been?"
Uncle Moe's voice stumbled for a moment before he spoke. "That is the strangest part, Master. I have spent nearly two hundred years wandering this forest, yet each time I stepped beyond its edge, time outside seemed to slow down." He glanced toward the burned trees as if they held the answer. "We have spent two centuries here, while only two years passed outside the forest."
Valerius' muscles tensed. The words hit him hard, his thoughts spinning in disbelief.
"Additionally," Uncle Moe interjected, drawing Valerius' attention, "I was observing the life force pouring inside you during your... suffering. If I am not gravely mistaken, it is the Grade 7 fruit, the Life Fruit."
Valerius' shock was palpable. "Grade 7 fruit?" He gasped, his voice thin with astonishment. "But there are no Grade 7 fruits on our continent! We don't even have a Grade 6 fruit! How could they acquire Grade 7 fruit?"
Uncle Moe's eyes darkened. "One of the black-robed attackers," he said quietly, "I'm certain he came from a higher dimension." His brow knitted deeply, the weight of the truth pressing down on him. The air between them grew heavy, thick with a silent sorrow that mirrored the shadow falling over his face.
He paused, swallowing hard, then squared his shoulders as if steeling himself. "Master, you being sealed here… I believe may actually work in our favor." His voice regained its calm.
Valerius raised an eyebrow, a flicker of his old skepticism returning. "A good thing? What is good about this, Uncle?"
"Master, the Asterion family is already destroyed," Uncle Moe stated bluntly, the words heavy as stone. "Most probably, you are the last one alive. If you were to remain in the heavens, they would have discovered you for certain. Here, I don't believe anyone will even come to look for you. And even if they do, the will of this dimension will suppress them. So, we are safe here."
Uncle Moe's eyes gleamed with a dark satisfaction as he spoke. "The strangest part is the time itself," he said slowly. "A hundred years here pass for every single year outside. You'll have endless time to grow stronger, to sharpen yourself, to prepare your revenge." He let the words hang for a moment, his gaze drilling into Valerius. "We only need to wait... and then..."
Valerius' eyes snapped open, blazing with fierce resolve. His voice was low and steady, cutting through the stillness like a blade. "Then... every last one of them will die. Brutally."