Vol-2: 088. The Children of Aether (Part 1)

088. The Children of Aether (Part 1)

The cell is dark and damp. Since this area is far from the artificial sun's reach, the temperature inside the prison often drops below zero. In such conditions, the guards at Tianhuan have developed a special way of disciplining prisoners.

Each cell is equipped with beds, but every night before the prisoners sleep, the guards take away the blankets and sheets, leaving only the cold bedboards. They then order you to mop the floor. Late at night, the cold creeps up from the ground, grasping you through the gaps and porous, loose boards. Hugging your shoulders, trembling all over, your rationality gradually erodes under the torment of the cold. Just when you're on the verge of breaking, the guard will shout: "Hey, get up, time to work."

At that moment, you're immensely grateful to the guard. At least in the workshop, you can use the sewing machines or lean against the lathe, receiving warmth from the machinery. It's much better than freezing to death as your body temperature drops.

After over ten days of torture, when the guard calls you to work again, you naturally stop resisting, feeling a sense of relief instead.

The cold is far more terrifying than the heavy labor.

It's an ingrained fear of death etched into your genes. In reality, when hypothermia first sets in, you don't feel uncomfortable. In fact, you feel warm and start unconsciously removing your clothes. After that comes dizziness, numbness, heart failure, and finally, cardiac arrest. You lose sensation bit by bit, until death claims you.

Throughout the process, it's as if your blood has frozen in your veins. At first, you shiver uncontrollably, rolling on the floor in an attempt to warm yourself. But in the end, with your brain overheating, you're no longer able to think. The heat slowly dissipates, and though you faintly hear someone shouting at you, you can't make out a single word.

After working long-term in the prison, the cold accelerates your metabolism. The fat on your thighs and buttocks gradually disappears, leaving you a skeletal figure. The gloomy vision and the narrow, closed-off cell destroy your emotions. Combined with the long hours of intense labor, it severely damages your mind and body. Countless prisoners have completely broken down and gone mad after enduring the punishments of Tianhuan's guards.

In a certain sense, this is indeed a way out of the prison.

However, what awaits them is not a mental hospital but the operating table—300,000 zhu for corneas, 1,000,000 zhu for a pair of kidneys. Their torso can be sold to the Hojo Family's security group to be transformed into cybernetic soldiers. Due to the cold environment and the carefully crafted prison diet, the prisoners' organs remain healthy and mostly unpolluted, often stored in the freezers of corporate executives, ready for use.

The Tianhuan guards are very confident in their methods. For twenty years, no one has been able to withstand this psychological and physical torment. They even organize singing and dancing events for the prisoners, gradually building trust in the prison. Eventually, the prisoners even start managing themselves, saving the guards a lot of trouble.

However, when faced with the new prisoner in room K-202, their foolproof management method failed for the first time.

Drip... Drip...

Two guards stood outside the door, listening to the sound of a leaking pipe, hands behind their backs, waiting for the prisoner to break under the cold and beg to be let out to work.

"It's been four hours," one guard whispered. "Is he dead?"

"No, a Beta-tier might be more resistant to the cold," the guard replied, uncertain.

His words were vague—after all, anyone, regardless of their strength, would struggle in such a damp and freezing environment. There was once a proud warrior who, despite enduring brutal torture thanks to his strong physique, couldn't last more than four days in the cold.

The damp and icy torment penetrates the joints, making it unbearable for anyone. Combined with the cold bedboards, it quickly leads to agonizing pain. Even those with strong constitutions aren't machines. Moreover, before being imprisoned, they've been injected with muscle relaxants, making their extraordinary senses even more sensitive to pain.

The only response was silence.

"Could he really be dead?"

The guard felt a sudden panic and immediately checked the surveillance. On the black-and-white screen, a tall man sat calmly on the bedboard, his face serene and undisturbed. A layer of frost covered his body, but he remained completely still. His eyes were closed, seemingly deep in thought. But one thing was clear—not only was he alive, but all signals indicated that he still maintained the vitality of a Beta-tier.

"Looks like we were worrying too much," one guard sighed.

"This guy is not ordinary," the other added. "He might be close to Gamma-tier. Look at these signals; it's like he's a furnace."

"Gretorvo • Nightsong... almost Gamma-tier," the guard scoffed. "There have been more and more Gamma-tiers recently, haven't you noticed?"

"What makes you say that?"

"The Abyss Humanitarian Relief Organization developed some kind of Gamma-tier biobeast. Grand Duke Grant, who never made a move, suddenly revealed himself and destroyed half a city effortlessly. Gretorvo and his comrades were able to hold off an entire army. We saw it with our own eyes; he blocked the main cannon of a mobile armor unit... And Frost-Plated's Li Aozi is even more impressive—rumor has it he single-handedly wiped out Frost-Plated's air force."

"You're overthinking it. Every era has its Gamma-tier rising stars, but after a few years, they realize that this planet can't support their life form."

The guards were well-trained in Tianhuan's official transcendent system and knew these issues well.

"For example, you know that dinosaurs went extinct not because they were directly hit by a meteorite, but because the ecology that supported them was destroyed. Ferns went extinct—herbivorous dinosaurs that fed on ferns died out—predatory dinosaurs that fed on herbivores went extinct."

The guard lit a cigarette. Since Gretorvo • Nightsong wasn't dead, there was no need to pay him any attention. His companion, curious, asked, "What are dinosaurs?"

"Don't worry about it—what's important is that Gamma-tiers are like that. The energy and environment on this planet can't sustain them. That's why those who can truly be called active Gamma-tiers, who can wield Gamma-tier power, are incredibly rare and precious. Most are just lucky enough to ascend by chance. Without a kingdom, they'd starve to death on the surface."

"It's really pathetic... These people are the same. The King of the Ring, in his benevolence, allowed the commoners of Tianhuan to survive, yet they shamelessly want more."

"Who says otherwise?"

He blew out a ring of smoke and sneered.

"That's why they'll fail. The Akaban Squad thinks they've mastered Gamma-tier power and can challenge the army? They're underestimating 20-millimeter depleted uranium armor-piercing rounds."

"Let's go. Since he's fine, how about we head back for a drink?"

"You've stashed some private liquor again, haven't you? Heh..."

Their banter and laughter gradually faded away, but inside the cell, the tall man's brows furrowed even deeper.

Cold, damp, dark.

None of it could defeat him.

Yet, deep down, he felt an eerie sense of unease.

Closing his eyes, the world was silent except for the sound of dripping water and frost forming. Even his powerful heartbeat was slowly swallowed by the quiet. Yet, his consciousness had never been clearer.

"... (whispering)"

Gradually, a faint call echoed in his heart, like a gentle and familiar voice, finally taking shape in his mind as something resembling music.

It was an indescribable melody, like the soft tickle of wind against skin, or the warmth of being enveloped in a hot spring as the steam gently bathed him. His consciousness soared higher, as if flying towards the sky. But humans aren't meant to fly—only when standing on solid ground do they feel alive.

"…Awaken…"

As his consciousness continued to ascend, he seemed to see a red and black sky filled with Calamity. And above it, the "blue sky" that only existed in legends and history books. That intense unease transformed into a burning call—not in any language, but directly etched into his soul.

The strange echo finally conveyed a complete meaning within the dark blue sky.

"Wake up, member of the Jury."

In that instant, his consciousness plummeted back to the ground, and in the darkness before him, a deep, raspy voice rang out like the clash of blades.

"Black Whale, you still haven't understood your 'quality'. I'm disappointed."

For some reason, whenever Gretorvo • Nightsong heard that man's voice, his mind instinctively conjured up an image of a creature that didn't exist on this planet— a shark.

"You're here again."

Gretorvo opened his eyes, and in the blue depths of his gaze, a pale, twisted figure seemed to be reflected.

"I've told you many times—I'm not Black Whale. Do you want me to start calling you White Shark?"

Gretorvo's voice carried no emotion, but no matter who heard it, they wouldn't feel any malice from him.

"You don't understand. You understand nothing."

White Shark spread his arms, as if passionately declaring something.

"Your talent, your race, your name, your destiny—I must kill you, but not now. Only when you fully awaken, when you grasp the 'quality' of being a [Black Knight], will you be qualified to fight me."

"I'm not interested in riddles," Gretorvo replied to the pale figure. "Nor do I want to kill anyone, unless they intend to harm others."

"Exactly! Exactly!"

White Shark shouted excitedly, but then descended into a hysterical denial.

"No! That's not right! It's not enough!"

"You must have burning love, the resolve to face death without fear. You must place your life at the highest stake, and then discard it! That would be the greatest sacrifice."

"It's a necessary sacrifice. To succeed, a certain price must be paid—yes, it's sacrifice, you fool, not protection—sacrifice!"

White Shark's tone was sometimes frantic, sometimes desolate, like a stranded shark on a beach, struggling as he pleaded and raged.

Gretorvo had no idea what he really was.

If White Shark was insane, then what did that make Gretorvo, who could see him?

"Why do you keep haunting me? What do you want?"

Although he had asked this question many times, White Shark always answered with the same tireless reply:

"For sacrifice, Black Whale. You don't understand—'quality' is sacrifice, and sacrifice is 'quality'. We all must sacrifice. Only through sacrifice can we live, can we live with clarity!"

Strange thoughts, right?

Gretorvo continued asking.

"Who are you really?"

White Shark proudly replied, "[White Knight], the [White Knight] of the Jury."