The Weight of Fate | Broken Resolve

"It seems the elves sniffed him out from trespassing in their territory" Seiya's father remarked, amusement lacing his voice.

Before him, a glowing screen created by Awakened Ability—displayed Seiya inside the gate.

"Of all places, to think he landed in one with that climate! The human body would freeze and perish quickly in such conditions. At his age, surviving even this long is astonishing" Mr. Sanio's expression beamed with pride, a father marveling at his son's resilience.

"Now, Seiya, show me how you'll escape this one" he murmured, his voice tinged with a perverse delight as he lounged comfortably in the yard, fixated on the screen.

Within the gate—commonly known as a dungeon—Seiya was encircled by a horde of ice elves. Their presence was imposing as they weren't ordinary or low ranks but formidable with their ranks unmistakably high.

Paralyzed by fear and numbed by the cold, Seiya couldn't move. Towering above him, their weapons and auras exuded a terrifying dominance, leaving Seiya convinced that death was imminent.

But he couldn't succumb, not yet. He thought of the children depending on him, and of his mother, whose fate remained unknown. For three months, he had endured. He couldn't falter now. 

Desperation fueled his sharp gaze as he scanned for an escape route. Behind him seemed the only option, where the elves were fewer. Yet, when he glanced back, the gate through which he had entered was gone—a detail he had missed.

Dismissing the absent gate, Seiya focused on moving his numb fingers, clenching and unclenching his fists, attempting to regain warmth. He resolved to run, trusting in his agility. The elves, oddly, made no moves—it was as though they were waiting to see how he'd act.

With a swift pivot, Seiya bolted. But his speed fell short of his expectations. A massive spiked, metal-laden weapon struck him from the side, its jagged edges biting into his face, shoulder, arm, and the sensitive flesh beneath his armpit. The force hurled him onto the snowy ground, staining its pristine whiteness with his blood.

Seiya hadn't anticipated such a brutal strike. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he struggled to sit up, the dungeon's daylight diminishing with every blink of his eyes.

"Am I…. losing consciousness?" he wheezed, blinking repeatedly—one side of his body numb from the hit while the other trembled uncontrollably. 

"I can't... not yet," Seiya panted, summoning every ounce of his strength to rise. "If I faint here, I—"

He didn't get the chance to finish. Another brutal blow from a massive weapon crashed into his head, sending him sprawling to the ground and plunging him into darkness.

---

Seiya's eyes fluttered open to a familiar all-white expanse, his consciousness—a place he only visited when near death.

I must be at death's door again. He thought, sighing as he raised a hand to shield his face from the bright ambiance. But the sight of his bloody hands jolted him upright, triggering a harsh cough that brought up a mouthful of blood.

Pain surged through him. "What's happening? I thought I wasn't supposed to feel pain here" he rasped, coughing more blood, staining the space around him.

{I'm not sure, but things seem different since you drifted here from a dungeon} His heart spoke, the familiar voice a small comfort. 

{I don't understand the phenomenon behind it since the rules here might be warped but those elves are beating you senseless and it's affecting us here. If you don't get back soon, we're both done for}.

"But how do I—" Before Seiya could finish, his consciousness slipped away, as though pulled by an unseen force.

When he reopened his eyes, he was back in the dungeon, lying on the bloodied snow, his injuries mysteriously healed. 

He understood immediately—he had faced his first defeat and gotten healed which would result in the death of one of the children cheering for him.

Guilt and sadness washed over him, tears streaming silently down his face. The elves, still present, stood in awe, puzzled by how their inflicted wounds had vanished until their eyes alight with realization that Seiya could heal himself—so, they thought. 

Their expressions twisted with perverse joy—they saw him as a regenerating toy, one they could torment endlessly.

Sensing their intent, Seiya knew he couldn't wallow in despair. Another defeat would mean the death of another child. He'd rather focus on saving those he could rather than dwell in grief, thereby endangering the lives of the rest.

However, Seiya saw no way he could fight them so running remained the only option.

Determined, Seiya sprang to his feet, intent on escaping. But before he could take more than a few steps, a spear hurtled toward with blinding speed. He couldn't evade it in time, so he raised his right arm to shield himself. 

The spear pierced through his vulnerable arm, narrowly grazing his forehead and causing a streak of blood to trail down his face.

Desperate, Seiya tried to pull the spear free but his strength failed. The elf who had thrown it, yanked it out with brutal efficiency. With no second wasted, Seiya turned to flee again but another attack came—a spiked metal club slammed into him, sending him flying.

He landed heavily, blood seeping from his wounds.

Nonetheless, Seiya struggled up, his shaky hands assisting in pushing himself off the ground but before he could fully rise, an elf's weapon plunged into his chest from behind and he collapsed once more.

In the yard, Seiya's father leapt to his feet, alarmed. "That was a direct hit to his heart! Heal him immediately!" He commanded, his voice frantic.

"No sir, it missed his heart. His heart is fine" A female worker reassured, monitoring Seiya's vitals.

"His heart is fine? But just now, he was clearly pierced in the—" Seiya's father peered deeper into the screen to see clearer whether his eyes were playing tricks on him.

"If it wasn't his heart then why isn't he getting up after getting healed?!" Mr Sanio lashed out.

"It's likely just fatigue but he's fine. He'll slowly regain consciousness" 

After a tense moment, Seiya stirred. His consciousness returned and he awoke to the sound of the elves bickering in a strange language. He couldn't comprehend their words but their tone made it clear—they were fighting over who would torment him next.

Seizing the opportunity, Seiya fled. He sprinted faster than ever before, running in the direction of the forest, hoping to escape but his hopes were brutally shattered when an elf appeared at an implacable speed right in front of him like he had teleported.

In truth, the elf didn't teleport, he was just that fast.

Yet again, Seiya was had. It was a repeating cycle that went on, totaling up to seven times.

As Seiya's eyes slowly opened, he found himself healed from the grievous wound inflicted by the elves—his seventh defeat.

Without hesitation, Seiya rose, seizing the opportunity to escape as he awoke to them disputing yet again amongst themselves.

Seiya ran with newfound resolve, driven by the desperate hope of freedom.

The elves, however, remained unhurried, trailing leisurely behind him. To them, Seiya's escape was futile, a mere game where they saw no future of losing.

As he neared the forest's edge, a spiked metal club hurtled toward him yet again, followed swiftly by an arrow. The arrow embedded itself in his shoulder, while Seiya narrowly dodged the club.

Undeterred, he grasped the fallen club, intending to wield it for protection, but its weight was unfamiliar and cumbersome. He came to know the wooden swords he'd been swinging had nothing on real weapons. 

Realizing it would only slow him down, he discarded it and pressed on.

The arrow in his shoulder was a persistent agony, leaving a trail of blood down his path, yet Seiya endured.

Pain had become a constant companion, a cruel routine he could not escape.

He pushed deeper into the forest, his breath ragged, his steps relentless.

He yearned to put as much distance as possible between himself and the elves.

Stopping before a towering tree, Seiya began to climb, his strong hands—honed by years of wielding wooden swords—making quick work of the ascent. The arrow embedded in his flesh throbbed, but he climbed undeterred, seeking refuge in the branches.

Perched on a sturdy limb, he pressed a hand to his wounded shoulder, gasping for breath. 

Thoughts of survival and how he could defeat the elves crowded his mind, but his contemplation shattered when an elf appeared behind him, like an ominous aura engulfed in pungent smoke—grinning maliciously.

With a brutal strike to the head, the elf sent Seiya plummeting from the tree. He hit the ground hard, falling unconscious once more—making it his eighth defeat—the exact number of the kids brought in to die as punishment.

Moments later, Seiya was healed and regained consciousness. As he got on all fours, he raised his head to meet the line of elves standing before him.

Saying nothing and attempting to do nothing, silent tears streamed down his face like a never ending rain.

His tiny hands locked in a fist, squeezing them tight with his head hanging low. His heart, a knot of anguish.

On his knees, he wept quietly, his sobs barely audible at first, then rising in intensity until they filled the forest.

His head fell back, as he sobbed from the depths of his soul, his cries echoing through the woods. 

His tiny fists gripped his shorts, his quiet sobs crescendoing into a wail.

Seiya cried like a child—because he was one. It was the first time he'd allowed himself to weep so openly and bitterly since his fifth birthday. The weight of it all—the children who had died because of him—was unbearable.

His wails pierced the forest, drowning out every other sound. The dungeon echoed with his grief, a sorrow so profound it seemed to consume every air around him.