Drip.
Drip
Drip.
Small droplets sounded out within the dark. Cyril stirred, his eyes fluttering open and all the colors from before dissapeared, replaced by a dull gray ceiling made of stone. The scent of damp earth filled his nostrils, the chill in the air clawed at his skin, and his body…ached.
His wrists burned.
Clink.
He looked down—chains. Thick, rusted, and cuffed tightly to his wrists. A matching pair weighed down his ankles.
"What the fu—" his voice cracked mid-curse.
It wasn't his voice. It was…younger, brighter.
Panicked, he tried to sit up, but the chains were too firm. He twisted, groaned, and finally managed to pull himself to a seated position. His eyes scanned the small, dimly-lit stone room he was trapped in.
A cell.
Bars on one side, stone walls on the others. No windows, just one flickering torch in a bracket on the opposite wall, casting dancing shadows across the grime-covered floor.
'Okay, okay—this isn't my apartment. Unless I really got evicted and kidnapped in the same night… which would honestly go together.'
He took a deep breath and looked down at his body. It was younger, leaner, bare-chested and bruised. His skin was darker than before, and more defined, it was him—just… different, stronger.
His mind flashed back to the pills.
LLD.
"They can bring you to places of your wildest dreams…"
"Test sample."
"Did I reincarnate?" he whispered, both in disbelief and awe.
Cyril grinned despite the grim situation he was in.
'I guess god really took that dying wish to heart.'
Suddenly, heavy footsteps approached. Cyril froze, his eyes locked on the bars.
A shadow loomed. A jingle of keys sounded out.. Then—CLANK—the cell door creaked open slowly.
In stepped a towering man, bald with a large gray beard, muscles bulging under his armor. He held a wooden baton casually, like it was a toy.
"On your feet, scum."
Cyril blinked.
"You talking to me?"
The baton struck his thigh with a THWACK before he could react. Pain shot through his leg.
"On your feet, Now."
Gritting his teeth, Cyril struggled to stand. His legs felt like jelly. Still, he willed through the pain.
The guard looked unimpressed.
"You've been out for days. Thought you weren't gonna make it. Guess the gods want you alive."
'Or cursed, you bald fuck.' Cyril thought.
The man grabbed his chains and yanked him forward.
"Time to meet the master."
Dragged through winding stone hallways and up into blinding light, Cyril's eyes took time to adjust. The prison—if you could call it that—led into what was like a massive coliseum from Ancient Rome carved into a cliffside. Above, twin stars scorched a pink-orange sky. Around him were slaves, guards, and beasts he couldn't name.
Everything screamed fantasy. But not the friendly kind.
Cyril felt the gaze of other slaves on him, some pitied, most didn't care. Their wrists were clasped with the same shackles, and their clothes were rags, just like his.
He was led across the grounds into a pavilion. There, lounging on a raised seat, was a man dressed in crimson robes with golden trim. His face clean, elegant, but cold.
"Is this the newest one?" the man asked.
"Yes, Master Dren," the guard replied.
The robed man stood, walking toward Cyril. He looked him over, nodding slowly.
"Hm… healthy. Good frame. And those eyes…"
Cyril stared right back.
"You gonna kiss me or what?"
The guard's eyes widened in horror.
CRACK.
The back of Dren's hand struck Cyril across the face so hard he almost fell.
"You'll learn your place," Dren said, his tone as calm as a breeze.
"All you little things do."
Blood dripped from Cyril's lip, his body screamed at him to submit. But something inside him—something new—refused to kneel.
Something ancient and primal sparked in his chest. A warm pulse, like a heartbeat made of fire.
The pain Cyril felt dulled and his vision sharpened. And suddenly, for a moment, he felt the air around him, the heat from Dren's hand, the blood dripping from his mouth.
Power.
Just a sliver.
But it was real.
Dren turned away.
"Take him to the Quarry, let him learn."
"Yes, Master."
As he was dragged back to the abyss, Cyril allowed himself a small, bloody grin.
'I feel it, this world's got power… and if I'm here, I'm gonna take every last drop of it.'