The wall holds firm. Metal reinforcement. No dice. I try again, just to be sure. Still nothing. Caesar’s shouts grow louder. They’re closing in.

No time for this. I scan the room. My gaze lands on a peculiar statue. Golden, humanoid, and utterly out of place amidst the tomes. I give it a twist. Click. The metal wall split and opened slowly.

That statue practically screams “secret passage.”

Caesar bursts into the room, panting. “There’s nowhere left to run!” he wheezes.

I ignore him. I’m too busy staring, jaw dropped, at what lies beyond the hidden door.

It’s… empty. Utterly, chillingly empty. No hidden treasure. No secret escape route. Just a room. A horrifying room.

In the center sits a large metal bed. Straps and chains, stained a disturbing shade of crimson, bind it. Splatters and drops of blood mar the floor.

Along one wall, neatly arranged, stand monstrous contraptions. Devices clearly designed for inflicting unimaginable pain. On the opposite side, refrigerated display cases hold jars. Jars filled with preserved human organs and… remains. One jar contains the severed head of a young boy, frozen in time.

Interspersed among the gruesome displays are intricate scientific instruments, surrounded by blood-stained notebooks and recordings.

A low, chilling chuckle echoes through the room. “You truly believed I would simply hold him?” Caesar’s voice drips with amusement. “Such… predictable thinking. You Syners are so easily manipulated.”

Syner? What’s a Syner?

My gaze snags on a few scraps of fabric on the floor. Familiar fabric. It’s from Bailey’s clothes. Ripped to shreds. My fist clenches. This isn’t good. Not good at all.

“Oh, he’s quite alive. A remarkably resilient specimen. He provided an… excellent opportunity to evaluate some recent advancements. Keeping him conscious throughout proved particularly enlightening.” Caesar paused, a hint of disappointment in his voice. “Regrettably, he’s been reallocated. My benefactor has… other uses for him. A pity. I had envisioned him as a key piece in my collection. However…” He turned his gaze to me. “…you’ll suffice.”

“What did he do?” I ask, forcing my voice to remain even. Inside, though, a storm is brewing.

“What?” Caesar drawls.

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“What did he do to deserve this?” I demand answers.

“Hahahaha, oh, no, no, no,” Caesar chuckles, a chilling sound that echoes through the gruesome room. “My dear… he, and all of you Syners, exist solely for our purposes. He deluded himself into believing he could protect you. Protect all of you from us.”The chuckle deepened, laced with disdain. “He even clung to the naive notion that finding Kurtis Keyser would alter your… destiny. How…foolish.”

“So… he was just trying to survive,” I mutter, the pieces clicking into place. “Trying to protect his people.” I struggle to contain the rage bubbling inside me as I started grabbing a couple of small bars of adamantine I got earlier from my pocket.

A wave of conflicting emotions washes over me. In my past life, I was always the defensive one, quick to forgive. I’d had my share of angry thoughts, moments where I’d imagined unleashing my fury. But the thought of those I cared about suffering because of my impulsiveness always held me back. I rarely acted in anger, unless it was to protect my friends and family. I always did my best to avoid conflict.

Bailey. My first, and so far, only friend in this crazy new world. He took me in when I was completely lost, a total stranger. Offered me food—delicious, although poisoned, food that still managed to be comforting, a taste of home in this bizarre isekai. We’d even had a proper adventure together.

I thought leaving would keep him safe. I was wrong. I shouldn’t have taken so long. I should have… No! Now’s not the time for self-blame. The one responsible for Bailey’s suffering is standing right in front of me.

If it weren’t for guys like Caesar, Bailey would be safe. Seems like this isekai is just the same old story: kind, powerless people getting stomped on by the rich and powerful. The haves do whatever they want, kindness or cruelty depending on their mood. The have-nots walk on thin ice, one wrong step and they’re done for.

In my past life, I played it safe, kept my head down. It worked; I never fell through the ice. My whole strategy was keeping my loved ones out of sight, invisible to the whales of the world. Because that’s what we were, krill. All we could do was hide, hope we didn’t accidentally swim into a whale’s mouth at the wrong time.

Even with all this fancy tech, humans never change. Underneath the shiny surface, this society is just as brutal as the natural world.

However, just as size doesn’t always guarantee victory in nature, wealth and power don’t guarantee freedom from consequences either.

This life, I’m not powerless. Quite the opposite. It seems I wield unimaginable power, and now wealth too. And at this moment, I can no longer contain the rage bubbling inside me.

I guess power can corrupt, even the best of us, especially at our most vulnerable moments. I feel that corruption is nipping at my consciousness. The rage is a physical thing, clawing to get out.

A thought strikes me: I’m never going to be the same after this.

It feels like a demon has manifested within me, and I doubt I’ll be able to shove it back into its box.

I've never been one for deities, but at this moment, I find myself swearing a promise. Not to some higher power, but to myself. I’m trying to grab onto the last vestiges of control before I completely lose it.

I promise to control this power.

I promise to resist the corruption that’s trying to take root inside me.

I promise to never use this power to harm others for my own selfish gain.

Basically, I’m promising to myself not to turn into a supervillain.