Forty-six times. No, maybe it had been forty-seven. I couldn’t remember anymore.
After the tenth, maybe the twelfth time, the line between life and death had blurred so much that my focus began to wane, as everything blurred. Each time I thought the pain would end, that it had to end, and each time I was jolted back into existence.
It was always the same, slipping into unconsciousness, the soft pull of death coaxing me into darkness, the growing light swallowing me whole, until Infra yanked me back into the living world with a surge of volts that felt like it could kill anything short of a monster.
The shock was unbearable, searing through my nerves, jerking me out of the blissful oblivion I craved so desperately. But the pain didn’t end there. The thirst clawed at my throat, the dizziness warped my vision, and the putrid stench of my own filth, urine, vomit, blood, hung heavy in the air like a reminder that I was still very much alive.
Sometimes, the light-headedness would claim me, and I’d faint, only to be woken up again.
Over and over. Again and again.
There were moments I didn’t even want to come back. Most people, in a situation like mine, would have something, someone, to cling to. A memory of a loved one, a dream, a future worth fighting for.
Me? I currently have none of that. Nothing but flashes of agony. There were also those strange memories. They weren’t exactly bad memories, but they weren’t the kind of memories to live for, either. Just cold, hollow remnants of a life I barely recognized anymore.
Finally, after what felt like the universe had drained every last drop of pain from my body, leaving only a hollow shell behind, Infra’s voice broke the silence.
I wanted to laugh. Of course, my suffering wasn’t over. This wasn’t the end of my torment, it was only the beginning. I had only scratched the surface of hell.
Then it hit.
Agony unlike anything I had ever known tore through me. It was as if my limbs were ripped from my body, the tendons and bones snapping like brittle twigs, only to be crudely reattached seconds later. My eyes were crushed in their sockets, the world going dark, before they were pulled out and reformed, fresh and whole once more. Deep, jagged claws raked across every inch of my skin, carving into my flesh with surgical precision. My fingernails, my teeth, they were pulled out one by one, each extraction slow, deliberate, as if savoring the pain. Then they regrew instantly, only for the cycle to start again.
The stench of mixed together bodily fluids burned my nostrils, but my senses were so overwhelmed that I barely registered it. My body was being dismantled and rebuilt over and over again, like some grotesque experiment. My eyes were so dry I couldn’t cry, even if I had the strength left to do so.
The pain was so excruciating that my mind had long stopped processing it as pain. It was simply there. I had no voice left to scream, no tears left to shed.
This was beyond torture, this was punishment for sins I didn’t even know I had committed. And yet, through it all, I was conscious. Every. Single. Second.
Time ceased to exist in that void of suffering. I couldn’t tell if it had been hours or days. But one thing was clear, I had taken on years of pain in the span of a few short moments.
And then, the absurdity of it all hit me. A low chuckle bubbled up in my throat, surprising even me. It was all so, ridiculous. The smile crept up on my torn lips, spreading slowly, despite the agony. My face twisted into something that might’ve been laughter, though it came out as a garbled rasp.
My world faded into darkness.
⥁
Two young boys and a little girl ran through fields of scarlet and violet flowers, their laughter filling the air. Their smiles were wide, carefree, as if the world beyond their joy didn’t exist. They ran and ran, their childish laughter growing louder with every step, echoing across the endless landscape.
But then, without warning, one of the boys and the girl stopped. Their smiles faltered, fading like sunlight slipping behind clouds. The second boy, confused, turned to ask what was wrong, but before he could say a word, his world turned crimson.
Blood sprayed from his mouth, hot and wet. His eyes widened in disbelief as he looked down to see two hands withdrawing from his chest, each holding a knife still slick with his blood. He collapsed to his knees, his body crumpling like paper, the life draining from him.
The pair? They just smiled. Their eyes gleamed with malice as they ran off, leaving him behind without a second thought. Their laughter echoed on the wind, the same laughter that had once been so innocent, now twisted into something far darker.
The boy lay there, dying, his vision blurring as the colors of the world dulled around him. But through it all, his expression never changed. His lips curled into a smile, and he died that way, laughing, even as his life bled out of him.
⥁
My eyes fluttered open. The scent of citrus and soap filled the room, clean and sharp. Someone had cleaned up after me, but the lingering shame clung to me like a second skin. I could only imagine the horror on their face when they saw the mess I’d left behind, a shirtless, broken teenager lying in a puddle of his own piss and vomit.
At least there had been no awkward conversations. Waking up to a concerned stranger would’ve been mortifying.
I sat up slowly, feeling every ache and bruise in my body, the soreness reminding me of what I had just survived. But there was something off. Something, missing. The memory of the pain was still fresh, seared into my mind, but now there was this strange emptiness where the agony used to be.
Had it worked? Did I go through all that for nothing? The last thing I remembered was the unbearable torment, and then, nothing.
Infra’s voice broke the silence, as calm and collected as ever.
I didn’t respond right away. It wasn’t out of anger, I was too tired to be angry. No, I was genuinely processing the question. How was I feeling?
There was an emptiness, but I ignored it for now.
“Like a guy who's extremely pissed off at the chip in his head. So, did it work, or did you put me through hell just for shits and giggles?”
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“Save it, Infra. What’s done is done. Just answer the question.”
I wanted to feel relief, maybe even joy, but something was still gnawing at me, a nagging sensation that something wasn’t right. Maybe it was the emptiness in my chest or the dull ache that lingered in my bones, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t the victory I had been hoping for.
The word “metamorphosis” lingered in my mind.
“Metamorphosis?” I repeated.
The first metamorphosis? That piqued my curiosity, but my brain wasn’t ready to tackle anything too complicated yet. I needed to get down to the interesting stuff.
“So, I’ve probably been out for more than a night, right? Shouldn’t we start training soon? You know, since I can finally use magic now.”
The thought of wielding magic was the only thing keeping me from sinking too deep into the bitterness of what I’d just endured. I wasn’t going to let anything hold me back.
A beat passed. My mind caught on to something.
“Infra, what do you mean by ‘the agony path?’”
"In hopes?" My voice rose. "So you didn’t even know if it would work? And there were other emotions
“So you mean to tell me, Infra. That not only did you not know if torture would work. But there were also a whole spectrum of emotions that we could have tried first!?”
⥁
It had taken three weeks for my body to recover from the agony Infra had inflicted, and another two weeks to regain my strength. I was surprised by how much lighter and stronger I felt after the metamorphosis, as if every fiber of my being had been refined. My muscles responded more sharply, my movements more fluid.
Despite the newfound vigor in my limbs, the resentment I harbored toward Infra hadn’t dulled. It lingered in the back of my mind, gnawing at me whenever I recalled the unimaginable pain I had endured. Yet, as much as I wanted to rage against the AI, I was too preoccupied with the promise of what lay ahead to hold onto that anger.
After weeks of rigorous mobility exercises, cooped up inside this tiny room, the day had finally arrived. The day I had waited for, the day I would learn how to use my Heartile. I had been counting down in my mind every single night, envisioning the moment I would finally wield the power that now resided within me.
Infra’s voice chimed in, calm and clinical as always.
It made sense, but I couldn’t help but feel antsy. “Infra, it’s magic. And after the hell I went through to awaken it, there’s no way I’m letting something as minor as feelings stop me.”
This wasn’t just some academic exercise for me. Mastering my Heartile wasn’t just a goal, it was a necessity. It was the key to continuing on this path, a path that, while still unclear, I knew I needed to follow. Infra paused, perhaps taking a moment to analyze my emotional state before continuing.
I raised an eyebrow but let Infra continue.
< Tecz first arrived on Earth nearly five hundred years ago on an asteroid. How it spread and how the first Heartiles formed is still a mystery. What we do know is that, after an extreme emotional event, Tecz begins to circulate within the body, triggering the first metamorphosis.>
I couldn’t help but wonder about my own journey. My transformation had been one of pure agony, but how was it for people that took other paths? Before I could voice the question, Infra continued.
It was a bit more information than I cared to know, as my typing was all that mattered, but I wasn’t going to interject just yet.
I could feel my pulse quickening with each word. Magic, real magic, coursing through me. I didn’t care about anything else, I just wanted to start.
“Alright, so how do I figure out what type I am?” I asked, my impatience slipping through.
I hesitated for a second, caught off guard by the simplicity of the command. I sat down cross-legged on the bed and did as instructed, focusing on my chest, my breath slowing as I tried to tune into my own body. I could hear my heartbeat, feel the subtle rise and fall of my lungs. At first, it felt silly, sitting there waiting for something to happen, but then, it did.
A warmth began to grow in my chest, faint at first, but undeniably there. I focused harder, feeling the warmth intensify until it became a pulsing energy. In the darkness behind my closed eyelids, I could see it, a ball of glowing light spinning slowly in a void. The light was a soft grey, and within it, tiny blue particles flickered like distant stars.
My eyes flew open in amazement. “What was that?”
I could barely form words. “It was oddly beautiful.”
“Gray,” I answered, still dazed.
I was too excited to sit still any longer. I shot up from the bed, pacing the room in restless energy. “Alright, that’s great. But how do I figure out what type I am? How do I use it?”
Infra’s voice remained steady, unmoved by my excitement.
I wanted to argue, to demand more answers, but Infra’s logic was annoyingly sound. My body still wasn’t at full capacity, and I wasn’t about to let impatience ruin everything I had suffered for. So I forced myself to breathe, to focus.
That night, silence settled around me like a thick fog. The room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the air cycling through the vents. Infra’s words played on a loop in my mind, pulling at the edges of my thoughts. The Heartile within me still pulsed faintly, a reminder of the power I had awakened. But now, the burden of responsibility weighed heavily on my shoulders.
I stared up at the ceiling, the dim light casting long shadows across the room. My future was laid out in front of me like a vast, uncharted ocean. Somewhere beyond that horizon lay my uncle, the academy, and the answers I so desperately needed. But Infra was right, the world wouldn’t wait for me.
I had to be ready. Ready for whatever came next.