File #666: The Mad God Who [Redacted]

Nathan lay sprawled on the cold floor of his newly reinforced containment cell, the oppressive silence gnawing at him, heavy as a lead blanket. This cell felt different from the others—its walls seemed to hum with an energy that felt intentionally designed to drain him. The room was barren, starkly lit, and colder than any he'd been in before, with a chilling emptiness that intensified his isolation.

He pushed himself upright, leaning back against the wall, and let his breathing steady. They'd blocked any access to external energy, but they hadn't managed to block his internal fire. That much he was certain of, and it was a discovery that stirred a surge of stubborn hope within him.

"Think they can just snuff me out?" he muttered, shaking his head. "Not a chance."

He took a deep breath and focused inward, letting his awareness settle on the faint, fiery hum that resonated just beneath his skin. He knew the fire within him wasn't some fleeting spark. It was a force waiting to be mastered, and the GRA had just unwittingly given him the perfect conditions to focus on nurturing it.

Slowly, he called forth the Heat Shield, his body gradually warming as he imagined a protective shell forming around him. It was faint, barely visible, but he could feel it—a fragile, flickering aura of heat that hugged his skin like a second layer. He clenched his fists, maintaining his focus, determined to extend its duration.

Minutes passed, then what felt like an hour, but he didn't let up. The shield flickered and waned as his body tired, but he forced it back with sheer will. He wasn't just practicing a skill—he was training himself to endure, to push his limits. Every second he held the Heat Shield in place was a victory, however small.

The cell's icy chill pushed against his shield, trying to leech away his warmth, but he gritted his teeth and maintained the barrier. He was proving, even if just to himself, that they hadn't broken him yet.

Hours later, a familiar flicker caught his attention as the System interface blinked into view. This time, the words were sharp and clear:

"Skill Progression: Heat Shield II Unlocked."

He blinked, relief coursing through him. He'd done it—an upgrade, tangible evidence of his growth. The System's message held a weight he hadn't felt before, as though it were recognizing his resilience. The shield felt stronger, warmer, like it had a life of its own. He released the shield, letting it dissolve around him, satisfied.

But he barely had time to savor the accomplishment before a shuffling noise from the other side of the door caught his attention. The door hissed open, and a GRA agent stepped in, his expression a mix of suspicion and grim fascination.

Nathan straightened, adopting an indifferent gaze as the agent scrutinized him, noting his flushed cheeks and the faint shimmer of sweat on his forehead.

"Interesting," the agent murmured, crossing his arms. "So, our containment measures aren't as foolproof as we thought."

"Guess not," Nathan replied evenly, refusing to break eye contact.

The agent's eyes narrowed. "You're… consistent. Most anomalies experience erratic surges, spikes that come and go. But you—you're controlled, almost… intentional."

Nathan shrugged, putting on a blank expression. "Just trying to stay warm. Your cell isn't exactly cozy."

"Funny," the agent replied, his voice dripping with disdain. He stepped forward, close enough for Nathan to see the faint lines of fatigue under his eyes, a sign that even these agents weren't immune to strain. "But we're not here to make you comfortable. In fact, your 'consistency' might be exactly what lands you in a cell ten times more secure than this."

Nathan leaned back, his gaze sharpening. "And here I thought I was the one supposed to be paranoid."

The agent's mouth twisted into a smirk. "Keep talking, anomaly. We'll see how long that attitude holds up."

The agent turned on his heel and left, slamming the door shut behind him. Nathan exhaled, feeling the tension dissipate. They were watching him more closely, but that only meant his progress was noticeable. Let them be wary, he thought. The longer they underestimated him, the better.

Nathan resumed his practice, pushing himself to keep the Heat Shield up for longer periods, testing its limits and his own. His body grew accustomed to the warmth, his control sharpening with each attempt. He was so engrossed in his efforts that he almost missed the next System notification, its message faint but unmistakable:

"Approaching breakthrough."

The words lingered in his mind like an omen, a promise of power within his reach. But what would that breakthrough entail? He didn't know, but he could feel the fire deepening within him, a primal force that pulsed in time with his heartbeat.

A sense of determination gripped him. He wasn't done yet—not by a long shot.

It was late, or as late as it got in a place with no windows, when Nathan lay back, exhausted, his limbs heavy and his mind clouded. He closed his eyes, allowing himself a moment's respite, when he felt it—a gentle, insistent tug from within.

The Gate.

His eyes flew open as he felt a surge of heat wash over him, far stronger than before. He saw, in his mind's eye, a flicker of the Fire Realm, its flames leaping and roaring, vibrant and alive. The Gate pulsed as though beckoning him, as if it were ready to tear through reality and transport him straight into that inferno.

His pulse quickened, a mix of excitement and fear tightening his chest. The System flared to life, displaying a message:

"Skill Progression: Heat Shield III—Unlocked."

He barely had time to process the notification when the vision took hold of him fully. He felt himself being drawn into the flames, the air around him thickening, igniting with a fiery heat that radiated from every corner of his mind. The Fire Realm was no longer just a vision; it was a sensation, raw and intense, as if he were standing within it.

The flames licked at him, spiraling around his body, and in that moment, he felt the raw, terrifying power of the realm surging within him. The intensity overwhelmed his senses, threatening to consume him entirely.

Then, as quickly as it had begun, the vision snapped away, leaving him alone in the cold, sterile cell once more. His heart hammered in his chest, his breaths coming in shallow gasps. He felt his skin tingling with residual heat, the flames from the vision lingering like phantom embers.

The final System message appeared, cutting through his disorientation:

"Approaching breakthrough."

Nathan slumped against the wall, drained yet invigorated. He knew that whatever was coming would be nothing short of monumental. The flames weren't just a vision—they were a promise, a challenge, and he was determined to rise to meet it.

As he drifted into an uneasy sleep, he clung to that thought, letting it burn within him, ready to face whatever trials lay ahead.