'…where am I'
Those were the only words that could escape his lips…
He tried to move but his body was hurt all over.
Before he could do anything else, he felt an excruciatingly sharp pain in his head, he tried to grab his head, but his hands felt numb, there was blood all over him.
Then he faintly remembered some people that would torture him, or those that would bring him food once in a while, and then a vague image of a weird man cutting his body open and injecting him.
The excruciating pain gradually reduced. He was breathing heavily. `
I remember...!
That was when he looked around. He was sitting on the bare floor, with his back against an unfinished wall. The 'room' smelt very bad. There was a skull beside him… it wasn't of a human…
Not minding, Dion realized he was held in a form of dungeon. There was no light, there were broken metal bars on the floor, there was a cool, light breeze blowing at him.
What could possibly have happened?
'…right… my name… is Dion, though they never called me that'
He tried to remember what could possibly have happened for there to be such a chaotic setting.
Once he felt like he was on the verge of remembering, it slipped from his memory. He tried to remember who the person cutting him was, but there was no memory.
'wait… there's no light'
'but I can see…?'
'what's this?'
'Is it because I've adapted to being here?'
'… I doubt…'
Dion tried to move, his body still felt numb, yet painful. He was thirsty, hungry, and dirty. He disliked the feeling.
He sat there… just waiting… but waiting for what?
After a while, he but into his lower lip, the pain caused him to flinch, causing his whole body to start throbbing, the pain was too much. But it was enough. Enough to rejuvenate his body, at least he could feel himself regaining control of his arms, his legs…
He finally managed to speak.
"Ah..."
A foul odor came from his mouth. He grimaced.
Disgusted, he forced himself to stand. His muscles screamed, but he stretched anyway. The pain no longer mattered — or maybe he'd simply grown used to it.
He stepped forward carefully, avoiding the jagged stones and rusted metal scattered across the floor. He needed food. Water. Anything.
The hallway ahead was in ruins. To his right, a small room caught his eye. Without hesitation, he entered watching out for traps, alert for movement.
The room was almost empty. A broken table stood against the wall, littered with used syringes, empty boxes, and scattered papers. Among them lay a few old books, coated with dust.
He searched the room anyway. The papers contained information about "test subjects." Every single one was listed as deceased.
He didn't even flinch when he found one with his own name — "Dion" — and a single bold word beneath it: DEAD.
He read the rest silently:
Name: Dion
Date of Birth: 19th January, 2025
Test: XX
First Attempt: Failure
Second Attempt: Failure
…
Ninth Attempt: Death
He stared at it for a long moment. Most of the words meant nothing to him, yet one thing was clear... he wasn't supposed to be alive.
He set the paper down and looked around once more. In a small box near the corner, he found a few old clothes. He took them gratefully.
Perhaps, somewhere ahead, there would be a place to shower... !