File #666: The Mad God Who [Redacted]

Nathan lay sprawled across the cold, unforgiving floor of his cell, his ribs aching with each breath. Bruises mottled his arms, a dull rainbow reminder of Kael's unrestrained power, the agent's words still circling his mind like caged vultures.

"You think you're the first to try and fight back? Everyone breaks, Nathan. Everyone."

But Kael hadn't noticed the tiny spark Nathan had managed to summon. That single, precious flicker had appeared in his palm—a stubborn ember, refusing to die out. It was all he had, a whisper of resilience that had somehow survived Kael's brutal assault. And in this silent, steel-clad cell, it became his lifeline.

If I still have that… maybe I'm not as broken as he thinks.

Slowly, he sat up, groaning as a sharp pain lanced through his side. He knew he couldn't afford another beating. Not like that. But he also knew he couldn't abandon what he'd started. The fire within him, small and defiant, demanded he push forward.

He looked around his cell, scanning the shadows for any hidden cameras. The GRA watched everything, he was certain of that, but if he could stay discreet… maybe he could train without attracting unwanted attention.

The cell was silent, its steel walls thick enough to mute most sounds. This was both a curse and a blessing. He could practice, slowly, carefully, without fear of noise drawing eyes to him. He took a deep breath, summoning the flicker of fire he'd felt before, keeping it contained, pushing just enough energy into his palm for the heat to gather without forming visible flames. It was faint—just a warmth spreading across his hand, barely enough to light up even a corner of his cell—but it was there.

And in the quiet, he heard the soft chime of the System breaking its silence.

Survival Demands Resilience.

The words appeared in his mind, etched as if from some unseen force, the text glowing faintly before fading. The System's message sent a spark of determination through him. It was almost as if it had acknowledged his suffering, granting him a skill boost in return.

The warmth in his palm stabilized, and he grinned. The flame lasted a little longer, a few more seconds than before, before it dimmed and faded.

"Not bad… for a start," he muttered, the sound of his own voice grounding him, reminding him he was still fighting. Still in control. "Guess it's you and me, then."

Nathan kept his training small, his movements minimal. It was more about discipline, the patience of feeling the fire gather and retreat on command. Each time he managed to summon the warmth, he found it just a bit easier to contain it, to keep it low enough not to draw attention but strong enough to remind him of the power he held.

Days blurred together, each night spent coaxing the flicker into a faint glow. He felt his control improving, his Heat Shield lasting a few moments longer, its warmth more consistent. It wasn't much, but he could tell he was progressing.

It was during one of these nights, as the faint ember pulsed in his palm, that he finally heard footsteps echo down the hall. His heart quickened, his hand closing around the flicker to hide it, as the heavy sound of boots stopped just outside his cell.

"Think we're not watching, Nathan?" Kael's voice slid through the door, low and taunting. "Keep it up, and you're going to wish you hadn't."

Nathan gritted his teeth, keeping silent, his gaze fixed on the ground. Kael couldn't know, couldn't see the small progress he was making, but he suspected. That alone was enough to keep the agent returning, hovering like a storm cloud on the edge of a battlefield.

"Cat got your tongue?" Kael sneered, as if sensing Nathan's tension through the steel. "Good. It'll keep you quiet when you realize how far out of your depth you really are."

The footsteps faded, Kael's laughter echoing faintly in the distance. But his words had left an impact, his taunts sharp enough to cut through Nathan's fragile hope.

He took a shaky breath, refocusing his thoughts. Kael might be right—maybe he was outmatched, maybe this was all an exercise in futility. But as long as he had the flame, as long as he could summon that tiny flicker of defiance, he wouldn't stop.

The days went on, his progress slow but steady. With each attempt, his Heat Shield held a little longer, the warmth a bit more intense. Every night, he practiced in silence, letting the fire grow and shrink on command. It was exhausting, draining his energy, but he pushed through, driven by a determination that seemed to grow each time Kael's words replayed in his mind.

On one particularly quiet night, he managed to hold the flame long enough for his body to feel a slight increase in temperature, a faint shield around his skin. It was like standing by a fire on a winter night—a small defense, but a shield nonetheless.

Just as he was beginning to marvel at his progress, the System's voice returned, the words sliding into his mind with a strange, comforting ease.

"Potential skill evolution detected."

The message flared briefly, then faded, but its meaning lingered in his thoughts. Evolution. It was the word he'd needed, a sign that he was progressing, that he was on the cusp of something more powerful.

For the first time since his capture, he felt hope—a fragile, flickering hope, but real nonetheless. He closed his eyes, holding onto the sensation, letting it bolster his resolve.

This time, he'd approach his training with even more caution, more strategy. Kael wouldn't find a trace of his progress. This time, he'd ensure he could continue growing, under the radar, until he was strong enough to finally turn the tables.

He clenched his fists, feeling the warmth spread through his hands, a promise of the power that awaited.

"You won't see me coming, Kael," he whispered, a determined glint in his eyes as he looked toward the cell door.

The System's final prompt for the night flickered before him, faint yet powerful, the words etched in the back of his mind.

"Progress, no matter how small, is still progress."

And as he lay down to rest, the words echoed in his mind, filling him with a renewed determination. Tomorrow, he'd train harder, he'd grow stronger, and step by step, he'd forge a path toward his freedom, no matter the obstacles ahead.