Kyon's First Person Point Of View.

Faraday's body slammed into the wall again, the sickening crack of bone echoing like gunfire in the narrow stairwell. Dust fell from the ceiling, and fractures spread outward from where his skull had struck the concrete. Vincent barely seemed to exert any effort as he swung Faraday by the wrist, like a sadistic puppeteer. The walls groaned with every impact.

Faraday wasn’t getting up this time. His body twitched, his unnatural healing already working, but it wasn’t fast enough to counteract the damage Vincent was doing. I could see it—see how his body struggled to pull itself together.

I stood frozen, my breath catching in my throat as Vincent finally dropped him. Faraday’s crumpled form hit the stairs with a dull thud, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

“Well,” Vincent said, turning his gaze toward me. His red eyes gleamed with an unsettling light, his expression calm, almost amused. “It seems your toy isn’t as durable as you hoped.” He stepped forward, his polished gray suit immaculate despite the chaos. His lanky frame moved with a predator’s grace, each step deliberate.

“You really thought you could bring him here,” he continued, gesturing at Faraday like he was a broken tool. “That he would stand a chance against me? Against Master Conrad?”

I didn’t answer. My throat felt dry, and every nerve in my body screamed at me to do something, to act, to stop him. But my feet wouldn’t move.

“What’s wrong, little one?” Vincent said, his voice dripping with mockery. “Did you believe your strength alone would carry you through? That your anger would make you unstoppable?”

The copper glow of Arkamon Flux flared to life along my arms, responding to the surge of heat in my chest. Vincent’s eyes flicked toward the glow, his expression unreadable.

“Ah, the Flux,” he murmured, almost to himself. “You’re an interesting one, I’ll give you that. So much potential… wasted on desperation.”

My fists clenched at my sides, the glow pulsing brighter. The walls around us groaned, and a hairline crack snaked up the concrete.

Vincent tilted his head, his smile widening. “Do you feel it? That anger? That fear? You’re nothing but a child playing with fire. And you will burn.”

He took another step forward, his presence suffocating. “Tell me, boy. What do you hold dear? Picture them—your precious family, perhaps? Imagine them at Master Conrad’s mercy. Picture yourself on your knees, begging for their lives, knowing you can’t save them.”

His words cut deep, like a blade twisting in my chest. Auntie Amina’s face flashed in my mind, and a sickening wave of dread swept over me.

“Ask Faraday,” Vincent said with a cruel smile. “Ask him what happens to those who defy Master Conrad.”

I turned my head slightly, catching sight of Faraday through the corner of my eye. He was still breathing, still alive, but barely. Sweat dripped from his forehead, and his red eyes flickered with something I hadn’t seen before—fear.

And then, the memories hit me.

I saw it in fragmented flashes, bleeding through the Blood Link I shared with him. Faraday, centuries ago, younger and weaker. Vincent looming over him, his white hair glowing like a halo in the torchlight. A device—The Rack—was in place, its jagged edges gleaming with malice. Faraday’s body was strapped to it, his limbs pulled taut, the wooden beams creaking as they stretched his body to its breaking point.

I felt the sickening pull, the strain on muscles and ligaments, as the Rack stretched Faraday’s body beyond its natural limits. He was no longer in control, his back arching painfully, his head thrown back as the tension mounted. His breaths were shallow, ragged—each one louder than the last. It was agony.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

The sound of bones creaking, joints straining, echoed in my mind, and I felt the phantom sensation of my own body being torn apart. Faraday’s gasps, desperate and weak, filled my ears. His skin, pale and tight over his muscles, seemed to tremble as though it couldn’t bear the torment much longer. But Vincent? He stood there, watching with a calm, detached expression, almost... appreciative.

Faraday screamed then, a cry that reverberated deep into my chest. "Please!" His voice was raw, cracking with pain and the faintest hint of something else—something more terrifying than the physical agony. A crack in his composure. Fear.

Vincent’s eyes gleamed as he took in Faraday’s broken form. He had no intention of stopping. The Rack was just the beginning. Faraday’s body had barely begun to heal before Vincent added more pressure, turning the wheel slightly, pulling Faraday’s body further, further, further. Each twist and turn was a new wave of torment.

And yet, Faraday’s face remained as stoic as he could make it, his jaw clenched, though the agony was written in every line of his face. It was as if he wanted to deny Vincent the satisfaction of seeing him break completely.

But Vincent? He was smiling the same way he was now. Calm. Detached. Enjoying it.

"I told you," Vincent's voice was low, the words dripping with a mockery that stung worse than the pain. "There is no escape, Faraday. Your rebellion will only bring you suffering. You should have known better than to defy Master Conrad."

The words pierced deeper than any of the physical blows, and Faraday winced, his body trembling with exhaustion, the strain on his muscles unbearable. Still, Vincent smiled, his white hair falling across his face as if it were a veil hiding the malevolent glee behind his eyes.

The memory splintered, flickering like an old flame struggling to stay alive, and then I was back in the stairwell with them. Faraday’s body was sprawled on the ground, bloodied, bruised, but still breathing—barely. He was healing, slowly, but I could see the signs of damage, the shattered bones that hadn’t fully regenerated yet, the muscles that had been strained beyond endurance.

Vincent hadn’t even broken a sweat. His grip on Faraday’s wrist was unrelenting as he slammed him again against the hard stone steps, the sound of it sickening. Faraday gasped, pain surging through his body with each violent movement, but the healing slowed it, making the torment stretch on and on.

“Enough!” I roared, my voice cracking under the weight of everything I was feeling.

Vincent raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Oh? Have I struck a nerve?”

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. The heat in my chest was overwhelming now, threatening to consume me. The copper glow spread down my arms, brighter than before, and the hum of Flux energy filled the stairwell.

I took a step forward, and the floor beneath my feet cracked, spiderweb fractures spreading outward.

Vincent’s smile faltered, just for a moment, and I seized on that.

I lunged, Arkamon Flux erupting from my body in a burst of energy. The stairwell trembled violently, the walls splitting apart as the shockwave radiated outward. Heat and force rippled through the space, slamming into Vincent like a tidal wave.

But he didn’t budge.

I moved faster than I ever had before, my Flux-enhanced body a blur as I closed the distance between us. My fist, glowing with copper light, arced toward his face with enough force to shatter steel.

Vincent caught it.

His hand closed around my wrist like a vice, and I felt his fingers tighten, crushing the bone beneath them. Pain shot up my arm, but I didn’t stop. I swung my other fist, aiming for his ribs, but he sidestepped with ease, twisting my arm as he did.

I gasped in pain, my knees buckling, but I forced myself to stay upright.

“You’re fast,” Vincent said, his tone almost conversational. “I’ll give you that. But speed is nothing without control.”

He yanked me forward, pulling me off balance, and drove his knee into my stomach. The impact sent me flying backward, slamming into the staircase. The edges of my vision blurred, and the copper glow of my Flux flickered weakly.

Vincent approached slowly, his movements deliberate, like a predator toying with its prey.

“You’re trying to fight me with anger,” he said, his voice calm, almost pitying. “You’ve got power, yes. But power without discipline? It’s meaningless.”

I struggled to my feet, every muscle in my body screaming in protest. The heat in my chest was still there, but it felt unfocused, chaotic.

And then, I heard it—a voice, faint but clear, cutting through the chaos.

Kyon.

It was Kadir, his voice resonating through the Pulse, steady and calm.

You’re losing yourself. Calm your mind. Focus.

“I don’t have time for calm!” I hissed, though I knew he couldn’t hear me.

Kyon, Kadir’s voice came again, firmer this time. You’re stronger than this. But if you want to survive, you need to focus. Use your Flux properly. Remember what I taught you. Arkamon Flux isn’t just heat and force. It’s precision. It’s balance.

I gritted my teeth, Vincent’s mocking smile still in front of me.

Control the fire, Kadir’s voice urged. And you can burn him to ash.

The heat in my chest surged again, but this time, I didn’t let it consume me. I forced myself to breathe, to focus, to channel the energy coursing through me.

The copper glow returned, steady and strong, as I raised my head to meet Vincent’s gaze.

“Round two,” I muttered, my voice low but steady.

Vincent’s smile widened. “By all means.”