0001: A Slave's End

"Get up, Eleven!"

The sharp clang of metal bars echoed through the pitch-black cell, jolting the young man inside awake. No matter how deeply he slept, that sound always dragged him back to reality with a shiver ran down his spine.

Without hesitation, he sprang to his feet, hands outstretched and eyes shut. He was as naked as a candle, just as he had been every day for the past eighteen years.

The warden's heavy boots clanked against the cold, hard floor. With a hiss, the door creaked open, revealing a tiny, suffocating space, just large enough to take a few paces around. It had no bed, chair, or anything of comfort. Just a hole in the corner for waste and endless, suffocating darkness.

"I hope you had a good night's sleep," the warden sneered, snapping cold metal cuffs around Eleven's wrists. "You're going to need it."

Eleven remained silent, standing stiff and emotionless. Speaking was against the rules—unless it was to the scientists. Breaking that rule meant punishment, and today, of all days, he couldn't afford that. Not when he finally had a chance to leave this hell behind.

The warden yanked him forward, leading him out of the cell. A row of other prisoners stood in the dimly lit hallway, their blank expressions mirroring his own. When the chains locked him in place among them, Eleven finally opened his eyes, quickly scanning his surroundings.

The guards weren't watching.

Leaning forward, he whispered to the dude in front of him, "If everything goes according to plan, this will be our last day as slaves."

"You can count on me," the dude murmured. "I'll do whatever it takes to get out of here."

The hallway stretched in endless black and white stripes, illuminated by flickering bulbs. Three additional floors loomed above, with wardens and golden-uniformed guards patrolling, massive rifles slung over their shoulders.

One by one, more prisoners were added to the chain until one hundred nude young men and women stood in a single line. A moment later, a voice was heard from all the speakers in the hall.

"Good morning, Subjects. Today's routine is as follows: Numbers 1-20 will report to Laboratory E77. Numbers 21-40, Laboratory T15… and finally, Numbers 81-100 will make themselves useful at Laboratory A93."

The speaker paused briefly.

"You know the rules. Follow them, and no one gets hurt. Well, not more than necessary. Dismissed."

A sharp beep signaled their movement. Silent and obedient, the prisoners shuffled forward, heading toward a massive elevator at the end of the hallway. It could hold twenty at a time. Eleven's group entered first.

By now, he had grown used to being called Number Eleven. It was better than the name his mother had given him -Pain.

A warden punched in the laboratory code. The elevator doors sealed shut, and the capsule plummeted at breakneck speed. Moments later, the doors slid open to reveal Laboratory A93.

The room was massive, about the size of a soccer field, filled with computers, medical pods, and humming machinery. Scientists in white coats moved swiftly, selecting subjects and leading them away without a word.

A younger scientist approached Eleven. He had dark hair, just like him, and couldn't have been older than thirty. With a press of a button, he opened a vertical pod in his section.

Without needing instructions, Eleven stepped inside. The pod sealed around him, its upper half transparent, allowing the scientist to see his face.

"How are you today, Eleven?" the man asked, eyes glued to his screen.

"Fine, Doctor," Eleven replied, his voice flat.

The scientist glanced up, meeting his gaze for the first time. "Be strong. It'll be over before you know it."

Then he pressed a button, and a red gas started to fill the pod.

Eleven closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He had undergone this Procedure over five thousand times, yet he had never grown used to it.

None of them had.

For ten hours, Eleven endured the unimaginable. The gas tortured him at a cellular level, forcing his body to secrete Eternium; the only element that can stop human aging. But the process was brutal.

The moment the gas infected his brain cells, agony exploded through his body. His bones felt like they were snapping over and over again. His nerves screamed. His entire existence was reduced to pure, relentless suffering.

Every molecule felt like it was being shredded, ripped apart, and incinerated.

Time lost meaning. Each second stretched into eternity. He couldn't scream. Couldn't move. Conscious but paralyzed, Eleven was forced him to endure every moment of the torment.

This was their reality. Every day.

Finally, the needles piercing his veins retracted. The gas was sucked out of the pod as the extraction had finished. 10ml of Eternium had been extracted from his body.

But the Procedure wasn't over yet.

For the next five hours, a blue gas filled the pod, soothing the shredded remains of his cells. The sensation was pure bliss, a stark contrast to the horror before. If Eleven had a choice, he would have stayed in that moment forever.

But today was different.

This was the last time.

For an entire year, he had planned his escape. His neighbor, Subject Ten, was supposed to create a distraction while Eleven overpowered the scientists. With no guards present, it was the perfect opportunity.

The second timer reached zero. The blue gas stopped. But the pod didn't open.

Eleven frowned. He turned his head, scanning the room. His scientist was gone.

As the minutes passed, unease crawled up his spine. His heartbeat pounded in his ears.

Then, a voice called out. "Eleven."

His blood turned to ice.

Even in death, he could never forget that voice.

A figure loomed outside the pod. Slowly, a scarred face appeared; a long gash running from his brow to his nose. Eleven saw a tall old man in a fancy red suit came.

The Slave Master.

The man who ruled this place. The only person Eleven truly feared.

A smirk curled the Master's lips. "I warned you what would happen if you tried to escape." He shook his head. "Yet you dared anyway."

Eleven's stomach dropped.

"Your little friend, Ten, told me everything. In exchange for his freedom."

Those words hit Eleven like a sledgehammer.

Ten had betrayed him.

His only friend, the only person he had trusted for eighteen years, had sold him out.

Tears burned down his cheeks.

Begging the Slave Master for forgiveness wasn't an option. He would rather die than live as a slave for another day.

The Master's smirk widened. "Since you crave freedom so badly, I'll grant it to you." He leaned in. "Any last words, Eleven?"

Eleven's fists clenched. "My name is Pain."

The Master chuckled, pressing a button.

The red gas surged back into the pod.

A new countdown appeared.

100:00:00

99:59:59

99:59:58

The punishment for attempting to escape from the Farm was ten continuous cycles of pain and relief.

No one had ever survived it. Very few slaves were willing to go through that much pain even though it ended with the relief of death.

"Enjoy Hell, son."

The Master walked away, leaving Eleven to his fate.

The agony began again. He fought it as long as he could, but within an hour, his mind started to break. His body couldn't handle another round on the same day.

'From the day I was born, I have known nothing but suffering. My own mother hated me so much she named me Pain.'

'I don't deserve this life of suffering.'

'I will do anything for a chance to start over.'

'Humans shall know pain, agony, and torment like I have.'

The pod trembled and the lightbulb above Eleven started to flicker.

Then.

BOOM!!!

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A/N;

If you enjoy reading Reincarnation of the Strongest Sword God, you'll enjoy this book as well.