The phantom’s gaze wandered across the underground chamber, slowly taking in every detail. Its eyes lingered on the intricate formations etched into the walls, the reinforced barriers layered one atop another, and finally the plete absence of any visible exit.
For several moments it said nothing.
Then it started laughing.
The sound echoed through the chamber, low at first before steadily growing louder. What began as a chuckle soon became a roar of amusement that bounced off the reinforced walls and returned again and again. There was no fear in its expression. If anything, the creature looked genuinely entertained by the situation.
I simply waited.
Eventually the laughter subsided. The phantom lifted a hand and theatrically wiped away a nonexistent tear before turning its attention back toward me.
"Interesting."
Its glowing eyes focused on me instantly.
"A Saint. A genuine Saint."
I shrugged. "I’ve been called worse."
The phantom ignored the ment entirely.
"What exactly is a Saint doing inside Region Four?" it asked. "More importantly, how did you manage to enter without alerting the Lords?"
Its gaze studied me for a moment before a slow grin spread across its face.
"Actually, that doesn’t matter."
Death mist rolled from its body in lazy waves.
"You’ve already made your mistake."
I raised an eyebrow.
"Have I?"
The phantom nodded as though explaining something painfully obvious to a child.
"You entered the territory of the Lords. Do you think you’re the first Saint who believed they could challenge them? Do you think power alone changes anything?"
Its grin widened.
"You should be running."
I resisted the urge to sigh.
There was always one.
Every organization in existence somehow managed to produce at least one fanatic utterly convinced that their leaders were untouchable. It didn’t matter whether those leaders were gods, kings, emperors, or corporate executives. Somewhere in every hierarchy existed an individual whose entire personality revolved around worshipping authority.
Unfortunately, I seemed to attract them.
"The moment the Lords learn you’re here," the phantom continued, "every soul within this region will bee a weapon."
Its eyes gleamed with feverish certainty.
"Millions."
Then it shook its head.
"No. Billions."
The creature spread its arms dramatically, as though presenting a grand revelation.
"Entire city can be sacrificed if necessary. Do you truly believe your life is worth more than all of those souls?"
For a few seconds I simply stared at it.
Then I started walking.
The phantom frowned.
I continued forward without saying a word.
Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the confidence in its expression began to weaken. The grin lost some of its certainty. The arrogance faded by a fraction.
By the time I stopped directly in front of it, the creature was no longer smiling quite as much as before.
Then I punched it.
The impact detonated through the chamber like artillery fire.
The phantom left the ground so quickly it looked less like a person and more like a projectile. Its body crossed the entire room before slamming into the far wall hard enough to shatter multiple formation layers. Stone exploded outward. Cracks raced through reinforced surfaces.
A moment later the creature collapsed back onto the floor.
For several seconds it didn’t move.
Then it started laughing again.
"That’s more like it."
I walked toward it again step by step. The phantom attempted to push itself upright.
My foot came down on one of its arms. A wet crack echoed through the chamber.
The limb separated pletely. The laughter stopped.
Because of the surprise.
The creature stared at the detached arm as though it couldn’t quite process what had happened. Before it could recover, I reached down, grabbed another arm, and tore it free.
This time it screamed.
A distorted howl erupted from its throat as dark mist poured from the ruined shoulder. The detached limb dissolved into smoke before it even touched the floor.
The phantom stumbled backward, clutching its remaining limbs. For the first time since arriving in the chamber, a hint of uncertainty appeared in its expression.
"You know," I said thoughtfully, "most prisoners wait until after the beating before they start threatening me."
The phantom glared. Dark mist surged around its body as it attempted to regenerate the damage.
I punched it again.
The regeneration collapsed instantly.
The creature smashed through another section of reinforced wall before tumbling across the floor in a shower of debris. By the time it finally stopped moving, several seconds passed before it attempted to stand.
It remained where it had fallen, breathing heavily.
I could see it was thinking and calculating.
Then it laughed.
The sound was noticeably weaker this time.
"You think this changes anything?"
I remained silent.
The phantom slowly pushed itself upright. Its remaining arms trembled ever so slightly.
"You think pain matters?" it asked. "I have served the Eternal for all my life. ALL MY LIFE."
Dark mist swirled around its damaged frame.
"I have watched worlds die. You can tear me apart. You can break every fragment in my body. You can spend centuries torturing me."
Its gaze locked onto mine with stubborn defiance.
"But I will never betray the Lords."
There it was.
Now the torture speech actually made sense.
The creature had already been beaten. It had lost limbs. Its confidence had been shaken. This was no longer a random declaration, it was trying to convince both me and itself that it could endure whatever came next.
I nodded.
"That’s admirable."
The phantom looked surprised. Not that I was able to judge from its expression but based on the vibe it was giving I assumed it was surprised.
Apparently that wasn’t the response it had expected.
I sighed.
People always assumed torture was the most effective form of interrogation.
It wasn’t.
It was slow. Inefficient. Messy. More importantly, it required far more screaming than I was usually willing to tolerate.
"No," I said as I stepped closer. "I don’t think we’ll be doing that."
The phantom frowned.
"What?"
I raised a hand and placed my palm gently against its forehead.
For a brief moment nothing happened. Then I began devouring the Deathmist flowing throughout its body.
The reaction was immediate.
The phantom froze.
Every trace of confidence vanished from its frame. The arrogance, the fanaticism, the certainty that had sustained it for thousands of years, all of it disappeared in an instant.
And for the first time since arriving in the basement... True fear exploded from its body.
The phantom’s scream echoed through the chamber as streams of Deathmist poured from its body and vanished into my hand.
I watched quietly for a few moments before speaking.
"You know, I’ve always found it strange."
The creature convulsed violently.
I continued anyway.
"Most living beings fear death. They spend their entire lives running from it. Fighting it. Bargaining with it."
Another scream tore from its throat.
"They call it cruel. Unfair. The enemy of life."
I shook my head.
"I’ve never agreed. In my opinion, death is one of the kindest things in existence."
The phantom’s body trembled. Its remaining arms clawed desperately at the floor.
"Everything eventually grows tired. Minds break. Memories fade. Souls wear thin."
I crouched slightly so our eyes were level.
"But death arrives and says enough."
The creature stared at me with widening horror.
"It allows the old to rest. The wounded to stop hurting. The weary to finally put down their burdens."
"But you..."
My gaze swept over its twisted form. The warped soul. The thing that had once been alive.
"You were denied that mercy."
The phantom shook violently.
"No—"
"For thousands of years you’ve been trapped inside this mockery of existence. You call it immortality."
I gently placed a hand on its shoulder.
"I call it a prison. You aren’t alive anymore. If anything, you’re a corpse that’s been forced to keep moving. You speak of death as though it’s a punishment."
I smiled faintly.
"I think you’ve misunderstood."
The Deathmist surged from every crack in its body. Its screams became desperate.
"Death isn’t what you deserve. It’s peace."
I looked into the glowing horizontal line.
"And you’ve gone far too long without it."
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