Nioh woke to the feeling of cold tal beneath his cheek and the distant hum of machinery. His body ached, his nerves felt flayed raw, and every breath ca with a dull, lingering pain.
Instinct kicked in—he tried to move.
The mont he did, a sharp spike of agony tore through his body, forcing him back down with a strangled groan. His muscles scread in protest, his Biocore felt hollowed out, and the events leading up to his collapse slamd back into his mind with brutal clarity.
The fight.Grims.The Auditory Overflow.
His vision blurred for a mont before settling. His bag was nearby, untouched. A small rcy. Just as he exhaled, relief creeping in—
"Finally awake?" The presence sent a jolt through him.
Grims erged from the shadows, the sa way he always did—like he had never truly left, only waited. His steps were asured, his expression unreadable as he studied Nioh with sothing between amusent and curiosity.
"I expected you to be out for at least a few more days."
Nioh clenched his teeth and forced himself upright.
"How long?" His voice was hoarse. "Two days."
Grims studied him for a mont longer before speaking.
"I still don’t understand how you managed to borrow such powerful intent..." he mused, tilting his head slightly. "But your Biocore is already showing signs of collapse. You won’t be able to handle it much longer."
Nioh ignored him, reaching for the water bottle near his bag. He drank greedily, swallowing in heavy gulps, letting the cool liquid wash down his burning throat.
The room was silent except for the sound of his drinking.Then, without looking up, he spoke.
"When I was five, I survived a nuclear explosion."Grims didn’t react, but Nioh could feel the shift in his attention.
"My Biocore protected ... but it left deaf." "I lost my legs, too. It took ten years to move again, to function like a person."
He lowered the bottle, his grip tightening.
"I trust my mind more than anything. It’s the only thing that’s never failed ."
His gaze t Grims’s, unwavering.
"So if you won’t teach —then at least stay out of my way."
Silence stretched between them.
Then—Grims smiled. Not out of kindness. Not out of amusent but sothing darker.
"Still insolent." He raised a hand and suddenly Nine black bones materialized in the air.
They humd with sothing vile and corruptive. Nioh’s breath hitched.
"What are you doing?" The bones shot forward.
Pain.Unimaginable pain.
The mont they pierced his body, it was like fire and ice seared through his veins at once. The spikes burrowed deeper, sending shockwaves of agony radiating through every nerve in his body. A scream ripped from his throat, raw and broken.
"This is the Nine Punishnt Nails."
Grims’s voice was calm—too calm—as he watched him struggle.
"An ancient torture technique once used by the World Councils on criminals. It blocks your Biocore energy pathways and slowly corrodes your body from the inside out."
Nioh’s fingers clawed at the ground.
"Every month, one of these nails will explode, releasing a burst of hell energy."
Grims crouched, his voice dropping to sothing almost gentle. If your body can’t handle it... you die."
Nioh barely heard him. The pain was everything. It roared through his body, drowning out thought, reason, everything except the raw, burning agony.
"For the next nine months, you will be unable to use your abilities. No Biocore, no tricks."Grims stood."Let’s see how you survive now."And then—He vanished.
Leaving Nioh alone, writhing in agony, drowning in his own blood and sweat.
He didn’t know how long he lay there.Minutes? Hours?The pain refused to fade.
Then—He forced himself to breathe.Forced his fingers to move.
"Ekoh...?" Silence.His stomach dropped.He tried again, louder.
"Ekoh?"Nothing.
The presence that had always been there, whispering in the back of his mind—the voice he had lived with for years—Was gone. And for the first ti in a while—Nioh was truly alone.
He was consud by anger, yet the agony from the nails was excruciating. His mind spun, and his body, chilled by a mysterious hell energy he’d never encountered before, felt shockingly vulnerable—he was at his weakest in years.
"I have survived worse; I will overco this," he murmured as he assud a ditative stance. The Nails intermittently discharged pulses of cold, almost tallic energy that surged through every fiber of his being, gradually freezing him from the inside out.
"Now! I need to keep my body warm," he deduced, firing up the heater and launching into a series of rapid jumps. Although exercise had temporarily countered the hell energy’s effects, it wasn’t sustainable. He needed a way to remain active continuously.
"Weights!" he shouted, scrambling through the lab to locate the heaviest material available. With a makeshift contraption attached to his vest, every movent turned into a laborious effort. Still, his body fought back by generating extra heat, battling the relentless chill.
Drenched in sweat, he reached for a holographic screen and began searching for anything related to hell energy or the infamous nine punishnt Nails, but his queries yielded nothing.
"I need access to the Knowledge Hall, and for that, I require Conqueror points," he resolved.
He dialed Akron’s line.
"What is going on with you? You look like shit," Akron barked as soon as the line connected.
"If you shut up, no one will think you’re mute," he snapped back.
"Send the recording from your sister’s conquest," Akron demanded.
"The results from the weapon modifications were phenonal—her performance was stellar. Many have been asking about the designer, but she’s remained silent," he explained.
"That’s good. Set up an auction. Tell them I’ll design one weapon per month. The highest bidder gets the slot—bids can be made in rare materials or Conqueror points. You’ll oversee the bidding process."
"Why should I?" Akron retorted.
"Be useful for once," Nioh shot back before ending the call.
As ti passed, Nioh gradually adapted to his condition. He edited the video from Akron and uploaded it to the laboratory’s virtual blog, along with the performance sheets.
"Now, all I need to do is wait," he convinced himself.
"Soon, my body will adjust to the weight, and there’ll be nothing I can do about it," he mused.
"If I’m to be confined to seclusion, I might as well make the most of it," he declared, pulling out his drawing board and beginning to work.
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