Drip.
Drip
Drip.
Small sounds echoed through the darkness.
Cyril stirred, his eyes fluttering open. The blurry colors from before had vanished, replaced by a dull gray ceiling made of stone. The scent of damp earth filled his nostrils, the chill in the air gnawed at his skin, and his body… ached.
His wrists burned.
Clink.
He looked down—chains. Thick, rusted, and fastened 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 held firm. He twisted, groaned, and finally managed to pull himself to a sitting 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 be on brand.'
He took a deep breath and looked down at his body. Younger. Leaner. Bare-chested and bruised. His skin was darker than before, and more defined. But 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 really get isekai'd?" he muttered, both in disbelief and awe.
He grinned despite the circumstances.
'Guess the Lord really took that dying wish to heart.'
Suddenly, heavy footsteps approached. Cyril froze, his eyes locking on the bars.
A shadow loomed. A jingle of keys sounded out.. Then—CLANK—the cell door creaked open.
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.
"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,' Cyril thought grimly.
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 indifferent. Their wrists bore the same shackles. Their clothes 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, yet 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 winter 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 dulled. 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 flicker. But 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 smile.
'I feel it, this world's got power… and if I'm here, I'm gonna take every last drop of it.'