Eternal Battlefield:The Unkillable Cain

Under the shadow of a towering, jagged peak lay Black Mountain Prison. The land surrounding it was barren, a frozen wasteland where hope had no place. The biting wind carried whispers of suffering, mingling with the groans of its inmates.

This was where the worst of humanity—or those deemed inconvenient by Gaia—were sent. Murderers, traitors, rebels, and sometimes the innocent all ended up here. Escape was impossible. Survival was a gamble.

Among them was Cain Lee, a man who had once dared to fight for his family but now found himself condemned to die in the cold, brutal void of this prison.

It had been over a decade since Earth was dragged into the Eternal Battlefield, a realm of endless war between civilizations. The first year was chaos. Billions died as Earth's cities crumbled under alien skies, its people slaughtered by beasts, war machines, and rival factions. Gaia, a dominant empire in the Eternal Battlefield, arrived as conquerors rather than saviors. They brought order—but at a price.

Earth became a subjugated world, its resources stripped, its people forced into servitude. Those with potential as Evolvers were taken, their powers used to serve Gaia's unending wars. Those without use were discarded. Cain's parents were among the billions who didn't survive that first, brutal year.

For Cain, the pain didn't end there. His twin siblings, Luke and Lily, were taken by Gaia officials two months ago after they awakened extraordinary abilities. Cain tried to stop them. He fought, begged, and resisted. In the end, he was beaten down, falsely accused of rebellion, and sent to Black Mountain Prison to rot.

A sharp blow to his ribs woke Cain from his restless sleep. A guard loomed over him, his face hidden by a reflective helmet.

"Get up," the guard barked. "Move, or I'll make you move."

Cain staggered to his feet, his body thin and bruised. Weeks of starvation and hard labor had left him frail. Around him, other prisoners were also being roused. Together, they were herded out of the dark, freezing cells and up the treacherous paths of Black Mountain.

The day's task was as deadly as ever: harvesting rare, toxic herbs that grew along the mountain's cliffs. The herbs were valuable to Gaia, but the prisoners who gathered them were expendable. Many never returned. The mountain's air was laced with poison, and the jagged terrain made every step a risk.

Cain kept his head down as he worked, the cold biting through his thin rags. He moved carefully, watching every step, when a cry pierced the air. An older prisoner collapsed nearby, his hands clutching his chest.

"Someone, help!" Cain shouted, his voice hoarse.

The guards ignored him. One cracked a whip across Cain's back, sending him sprawling. "He's done. Keep working, or you'll be next," the guard snarled.

Cain clenched his fists but stayed silent. A middle-aged man working nearby hurried over and whispered, "Don't fight back. It'll only make things worse."

The man quickly pressed a bundle of herbs into Cain's hand. "Eat this, it can help you recover."

"Thank you, sir," Cain said gratefully, a hint of warmth creeping into his voice. Perhaps this place wasn't entirely devoid of kindness after all.

The monotony of the day was shattered by an alarm from the guards' devices. A sharp, piercing tone that sent shivers through the prisoners. The guards' faces turned pale.

"Shit! they're on the move!" one guard muttered, his voice thick with fear.

The guards didn't wait to explain. They abandoned their posts, retreating down the mountain in a panic. The prisoners were left alone.

"What's happening?" Cain asked the man from earlier.

Before he could answer, a black mist began to seep across the rocky terrain. It moved unnaturally, twisting and writhing like a living thing. Within the mist, shadowy figures took shape. One moment, they looked like beasts with claws and fangs. The next, they were shifting masses of terror.

The prisoners screamed. Those closest to the mist were the first to die, their bodies dissolving as the shadows consumed them.

Cain turned to run, but the older man shoved him to the ground.

"Why would you do this?!" Cain shouted, disbelief and anger in his voice as he hit the ground.

"I'm sorry," the man said, his voice shaking. "I have to live. I have a family."

Cain stared at him, betrayal written across his face. But the man was already running, leaving Cain to face the encroaching mist alone.

Cain's legs trembled as he forced himself up. The shadow creature loomed over him, its form shifting and incomprehensible. Its hollow, glowing eyes stared into his very soul.

"I can't die here," Cain whispered, his breath fogging the icy air. But as the creature surged toward him, he knew there was no escape.

The mist enveloped him, swallowing him whole.

Cain had no idea how much time had passed when he suddenly regained consciousness.

He opened his eyes to darkness. He felt no cold, no pain—only emptiness. His body was gone. He floated in a void, weightless and disoriented.

"Where am I? Am i dead?" he murmured.

Then A deep, chilling voice echoed through the void.

"Finally, another one. I hope you won't disappoint me."

"Who's there? Who's speaking?" Cain demanded, his voice echoing in the oppressive darkness.

A low, cold chuckle rippled through the void. "My name... it was lost ages ago," the voice answered, smooth and devoid of emotion. "Even I no longer recall it."

Cain hesitated. "Am I dead?"

"Not exactly," the voice replied, its tone unreadable. "But you're not truly alive, either."

Cain's unease grew. "Then where am I? Is this... hell?"

Another hollow laugh reverberated around him. "Hell? No. You're in a place beyond that. This... is the Nothingness."

Cain clenched his fists, though he couldn't feel his own hands. "I don't understand. How did I end up here? I need to leave—I can't die now!"

The voice grew quieter, its chilling presence closer, almost whispering into Cain's mind. "Leave? Oh, you can leave... but only if you're willing to pay the price."

Cain stiffened at the ominous tone, suspicion creeping in. "What kind of price?"

The voice didn't answer immediately. Instead, the darkness grew colder, more oppressive. "That," it finally said, a wicked amusement threading through its words, "depends on how badly you want to return."