After finishing my breadstick and a glass of water that night, I lay down in the wooden shack. Silence consumed the space. It felt like a prison, even though I knew it was only the beginning.
As I closed my eyes for a moment, desperately hoping for even a brief escape from my suffering…
WAKE UP!!!
Bosa's voice sliced through the quiet, dragging me back into the nightmare.
I was so fucking hungry, but I couldn't say anything. My pride as an Imperial Knight, as someone who had stood by the Hero's side, had completely crumbled. I was nothing now. I followed Bosa's orders mechanically, mindlessly.
"Go, punch the haystack until it's burning."
Here I was again, punching the haystack aimlessly. Each hit felt like it was draining the last remnants of my energy. This was so tiring. But this time, Bosa was right there, shouting at me like a drill sergeant.
"HARDER!!!"
I gritted my teeth and forced myself to hit the haystack. It felt meaningless, just like everything else. Nothing was happening. My hand was bleeding now, blood dripping onto the haystack beneath me, but it didn't matter. I was too numb to care.
As the pain consumed me, I glanced toward Bosa. There he was, sitting in his tea house, sipping his tea with the calmest expression, as though my suffering meant nothing to him. The detachment in his eyes burned me more than the pain in my hands.
I… I am so fucking ANGRY!!!
FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!
Each punch grew harder, driven by my mounting fury. My knuckles cracked, blood spattering, but I didn't stop. Anger surged through me, fueling each blow. My body was falling apart, but my rage only grew stronger.
"Now I can see some hope for you to ignite the haystack. Remember, Morrick, this is just the most basic technique, and you still can't fucking do it."
"SHUT UP! SHUT UP!"
I feel a surging rage in my heart, screaming louder than any pain I've ever felt.
"I'm gonna fucking kill you!!"
Unable to control it anymore, I stopped punching the haystack. I was so overwhelmed with rage, I couldn't hold back. I walked toward Bosa, my fists trembling with blood and fury. My hands sparked with a flicker of fire as I got closer to him.
And in that moment, something happened.
With a violent motion, I swung my fist at him, but…
Flick!
A tiny flame ignited on my knuckles.
I froze. It was just a flicker, a small spark, but it was real. The fire was there, and I had caused it.
Bosa's eyes widened just a fraction. There was something in his gaze now, something more than indifference. He leaned forward, his lips curling into a faint smile.
"Nice!" — Bosa's voice was laced with approval, but there was an edge to it, as though he were testing me, pushing me further.
Before I could land my punch, Bosa blocked it with ease, twisting my arm into a submission hold. His grip was unyielding, but he was no longer the detached observer. There was something different in his eyes now.
"Congrats! Now I can give you some tomato soup."
He handed me a breadstick, a glass of water, and a bowl of tomato soup.
"How can the fire spark in my hand, old man?" — Morrick
"Rage!" — Bosa
"Rage until you want to kill."
The weight of his words hit me like a hammer. I realized then—this was it. This was how I would survive. This was how I would fight back. Rage was my power, the thing that would fuel me to survive in this new world.
"Now eat this soup, and go ignite the haystack. Make it burn."
It all clicked. The power in this world wasn't just about skill—it was about emotion. And right now, all I could feel was rage.
I imagined the fucking Hero, the one who had caused me to be thrust into this hell.
The self-righteous bastard who had destroyed my life. He thought he was doing the right thing, showing mercy, ordering my family to give to the civilians—those lazy, ungrateful people. The Hero's actions had bled my family dry. He had us all working ourselves to the bone, and for what? So he could be the shining beacon of virtue, while we, the Berthand family, were forced to sacrifice everything.
My family's business had been thriving, but it didn't matter. The Hero ordered us to give to the civilians, and we had no choice but to comply. We couldn't speak against him. The Hero was untouchable, powerful. So, instead of living our lives, my family sent us, the Berthand heirs, to serve him.
Out of all my brothers, I was the one chosen to be his Imperial Knight, because of my unique rapier power. It was thin like a needle—weak, but deadly. That power was supposed to help me live my dream as a painter, but that dream was shattered because of him. The Hero's actions had ripped away everything I ever wanted, and now, here I was, stuck in this hell, suffering because of his choices.
FUCKKK!!!
I poured every ounce of my anger into the haystack, and finally, the flames erupted. The fire roared to life, spreading across the haystack like wildfire. My hands burned as I continued to punch, but I didn't care. I wanted to die. I wanted to die, but my rage wouldn't let me stop.
Bosa's smile widened as he watched me, an almost eerie satisfaction on his face.
"This boy is good, Bosa. I'm allowing the Sil's flame in his hand. The rage seems absurdly effective." — Unknown voice
"Yes, that's why I chose him the moment he was transferred here. I could sense the rage in that young man." — Bosa
"Congrats, Morrick. You've done it faster than I expected. In just one and a half days, you've already mastered the Fist of Fire."
[Quest Completed]
Player Name: MorrickLevel: 1Power: Fist of Fire (E-class)Trait: Disciple of Bosa
The system popup appeared above my head, but I barely registered it. My body was drained, the flames in my hands too high, and I could barely keep myself upright. My vision blurred, and I collapsed.