The Cell (3)

At last, they reached the cells—dark, cold, and reeking of decay. The stench hit the MC hard, a rancid mixture of sweat, blood, and despair that filled the air like a sickening fog. The narrow, damp hallway led into a dimly lit chamber where the metal bars of several cells glistened faintly under the weak light of a single bulb swaying above.

Inside the cells, the MC could see several girls huddled together, chained by their ankles to prevent any attempt at escape. The chains rattled faintly as they shifted, but their movements were slow, lifeless. Each girl was naked, their bodies exposed to the damp, foul air. Their skin was bruised and scarred, some wounds so fresh they still oozed blood, while others bore the dark red lines of healed torture. The sight of their abused, broken forms made the MC's stomach churn. There was no modesty, no shame left in them—only the brutal reality of their suffering.

Their eyes, once filled with hope, now carried no light. They were dull, hollow, like windows into a soul that had long since accepted its fate. Some stared blankly at the ground, others at the walls, but none made eye contact with Jackal or Rade. Their spirits had been shattered, and their silence spoke volumes. They had given up. There was no more fighting, no more hope—only the bleak acceptance that they would never leave this place alive.

In one corner of the room, the MC recognized a familiar face—the girl he had seen earlier in the brothel, the one who had been tortured. She was barely conscious, her body crumpled and limp, with bruises darkening her skin and blood smeared across her thighs. Her once-beautiful face was a mask of pain and exhaustion. She was half-dead, clinging to what little life she had left. The gag was gone now, but she was too weak to speak or even move. Her chest rose and fell in shallow, irregular breaths, her will to survive fading with every second.

Jackal entered the cell, his heavy boots echoing off the stone floor as he roughly tossed the sack containing Rade into one of the empty cells. The sound of the boy's body hitting the cold ground was accompanied by a soft gasp from the other girls, their wide, fearful eyes darting toward the sack, terrified that it was their turn to suffer. But when they saw it was only a boy, their fear shifted to confusion, and they quickly averted their gazes, curling further into themselves, huddling closer to the back of their cages.

As Jackal reached down to shackle Rade's legs, the boy stirred, mustering what little strength he had left. With a cry of fury, Rade lashed out, his small foot kicking at Jackal with everything he had. The blow was weak, barely enough to cause the man to stumble, but it carried all the anger, grief, and desperation of a child who had lost everything.

"Little bastard!" Jackal snarled, his eyes flashing with anger. He reached down again, and this time, Rade bit him. His teeth sank into the man's hand, his jaws clenching with wild, unrelenting fury. Jackal roared in pain, yanking his hand back, blood trickling from the bite mark.

"You think you can fight me?" Jackal growled, his voice low and menacing. "You're nothing, boy."

With a brutal kick, Jackal sent Rade flying into the stone wall. The boy's small body slammed against the hard surface with a sickening thud, his head bouncing off the stone. He crumpled to the ground, coughing and groaning in pain, his body curling up as he gasped for breath. His ribs ached, and he could barely move. The girls in the cell recoiled, horrified by the violence. They huddled together, pressing themselves against the farthest wall, trying to make themselves as small as possible, hoping Jackal wouldn't turn his rage on them next.

Jackal, seething with anger, stomped over to Rade. "If the boss didn't need you alive, I'd kill you right here and now," he spat, his voice dripping with hatred. He crouched down, roughly grabbing Rade's ankle and clamping the cold, iron shackles onto his small, bruised legs. The clink of metal echoed through the silent room as the lock snapped shut.

"You're lucky," Jackal hissed, standing up and kicking Rade again, sending him sprawling onto the cold floor. "But don't push your luck, boy. One more mistake, and I'll kill you myself."

Rade lay there, his body trembling in pain, barely able to move as Jackal loomed over him. The man spat on the ground next to him, his lip curling in disgust. "Rot in this hell with the rest of them, you piece of shit."

With one final kick to Rade's ribs, Jackal turned and stormed out of the cell, slamming the iron door behind him. His heavy boots echoed down the hallway as he left, the sound of his voice still filled with contempt. "If it wasn't for the boss, I'd have your head, you little bastard!"

The door at the end of the corridor slammed shut, leaving the room in eerie silence. The girls in the cell remained huddled together, too afraid to speak, their eyes wide with fear. None of them dared to move. None of them dared to look at the boy lying in the corner, broken and bleeding.

Rade coughed weakly, curling up into himself, his small body wracked with pain. He could barely breathe, the taste of blood thick in his mouth. His vision blurred as the world around him dimmed, and he felt the cold stone beneath his cheek as darkness began to creep in from the edges of his consciousness.

The MC floated above, helpless, his heart pounding in his chest as he watched the boy lying there, broken and battered. His fists clenched in rage, and his mind raced with thoughts of revenge, but he knew there was nothing he could do. Not yet.

Rade had been thrown into the darkest pit imaginable, surrounded by despair and suffering. And now, the MC could only wait, watching over him, hoping against hope that something—anything—would change before it was too late.

As the MC hovered above, watching Rade's limp form in the cell, the weight of everything bore down on him. How the hell am I supposed to help him? His frustration grew. The walls of this cruel world felt suffocating, the helplessness gnawing at his mind.

Just as despair began to settle in, a soft, familiar sound echoed through the dim cell.

Ding. Ding.

A faint glow appeared in front of him as a system window materialized, interrupting his spiraling thoughts. He blinked, startled.

Congratulations!

You have successfully passed the first turning point of the story.

You have been awarded: Memory Recollection (temporary)

Another ding, and before he could even react to the first message, a second window popped up.

Ding dong!

You have been awarded: Thought Sharing - Level 1

The words glowed brightly in front of him, and as he read through the notifications, more details began to scroll across the screen.

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Memory Recollection (Temporary)

With this ability, the user can access and read any person's memories during time freeze. From their earliest childhood memories to their most recent experiences, nothing is hidden. You can view their entire life, their fears, traumas, dreams, and secrets.

Note: This skill is temporary and exclusive to the World of Despair. It will disappear upon clearing the world, forfeiting, or failing.

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Thought Sharing - Level 1

This skill allows the user to influence the thoughts of others during time freeze, but only in relation to applying plot armor or creating scenarios to enable plot armor.

Note: At Level 1, the user can only plant subtle suggestions. Leveling up this skill will unlock stronger capabilities and further information.

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The MC's heart raced as he processed the new skills. Memory recollection? Thought sharing? He hadn't expected this. He'd barely scraped by, and now the system was rewarding him with two abilities that could change everything.

He hovered above Rade, looking down at the broken boy in the cell. His breathing was shallow, and the bruises covering his body were turning a deep, angry purple. The pain etched across his face told the story of a child who had suffered far beyond what anyone should. And now, the MC had the chance to delve deeper into Rade's life, to uncover the boy's past and understand what truly drove him.

Memory Recollection… The MC's mind raced with possibilities. He could read the memories of everyone—Jackal, the boss, Rade—anyone who crossed his path. He could learn their deepest secrets, their motivations, their weaknesses. If he could understand the enemy, maybe he could rewrite the story in Rade's favor.

And Thought Sharing? That could be even more powerful. Planting thoughts during time freeze, nudging people in the right direction, creating the perfect plot twists—it was like giving himself a backstage pass to the minds of others. If he used it carefully, he could steer the story in ways no one would ever expect.

He glanced at the glowing system window again, the notifications still floating before him. Temporary or not, these skills are going to be game changers.

His gaze shifted to Rade, still curled up on the cold stone floor, barely conscious. The boy needed him now more than ever. With a renewed sense of determination, the MC opened his hands and flexed his fingers, mentally preparing himself to activate his new abilities.

Time to dig deeper.