The world blurred again as I barely ducked under another sluggish but devastating strike. My ribs scread in agony from an earlier blow, but before the pain could even settle, the wounds were knitting themselves back together.
’This damn body...’
It wasn’t just healing—it was reconstructing, reshaping, undoing the damage faster than my nerves could register it. My Chaos Incarnate Physique made survival a certainty, but it also made suffering endless. Every crushed bone realigned in seconds, every gash sealed as if it never existed. I could fight with reckless abandon, but there was no escaping the pain.
I barely had a mont to breathe before another knight swung his massive, corrupted blade toward . I twisted at the last second, the edge grazing my side. I felt my flesh split, my muscles tear—and then, as if ti reversed, it all stitched itself back together.
The old noble sneered from behind his knights. "Struggling, are we?"
I spat blood and grinned. "Not at all. Just getting my workout in."
The knights’ movents were rigid, but their coordination was terrifying. They were slow—stiff as corpses in their enchanted armor—but their formations were airtight. Every attack, though predictable, ca from angles that forced into more disadvantageous positions.
A knight lunged forward, and I saw my opportunity. Using the force of his attack, I slamd my elbow into the visor slit of his helt. My arm practically exploded on impact, flesh ripping, bone fracturing—but the damage was irrelevant. Before the blood even hit the ground, my arm was whole again.
The knight staggered back, disoriented. But just as I moved to press my advantage, another caught in the ribs. My entire torso caved in—organs crushed, bones shattered. A normal person would be dead.
I hit the ground coughing up chunks of blood and lung tissue—only for my body to violently reconstruct itself. Bones cracked back into place, muscles realigned, flesh wove itself together like stitching on a fresh wound.
I let out a slow breath. "You guys... hit like bricks."
The noble’s smirk widened. "And yet, you persist. How amusing."
Another knight closed in, his enchanted blade crackling with dark energy. A low-tier spell, but potent enough to burn through flesh. I braced myself for the inevitable as the blade cleaved through my side—
Pain. Fire. Agony.
Then nothing.
I looked down. My flesh was already regenerating, as if the attack had never happened. The knight hesitated, perhaps unnerved by the sight.
Perfect.
I twisted and drove my heel into his knee joint. A sickening crunch echoed through the do, and the knight collapsed. But before I could run, another grabbed from behind, locking in an iron grip.
My spine snapped.
Black dots flooded my vision. My body tried to repair itself, but the knight’s grip only tightened, keeping restrained while another knight brought his sword down onto my skull.
For the first ti in this fight—I felt cold.
Not because I was dying. Dying wasn’t an option for .
’Healing sure is a bitch.’
No, I felt cold because I was running out of ti. If I let them restrain completely, I’d lose control of the situation.
So I did what I did best.
I laughed.
Blood dripped from my lips as I grinned up at the noble. "This... all you got?"
The noble’s eye twitched. "Enough of this farce. Bind him."
The knights moved at once. Their arms locked around , their magic surged—dark chains erupted from the ground, wrapping around my limbs, forcing to my knees.
It was over. Just as planned.
I let my body go limp, breathing heavily as my wounds sealed for the hundredth ti.
The noble stepped closer, peering down at with amusent. "You put on quite the show, brat. But now, we’ll see how much fight is left in you when you et the King."
His lips curled into a sneer. "Ebon Val Borg awaits."
I exhaled slowly. Good. Finally.
I was heading to the castle.
...
Darkness swallowed the world beyond the rattling iron bars. The air reeked of damp stone, sweat, and sothing acrid—blood, perhaps, or whatever foul thing they used to keep prisoners complacent. I sat on the cold floor, my back resting against the slick wall, my wrists bound in thick, enchanted shackles.
’These fuckers really tortured . So, old fashioned.’
[ System: I always knew you were masochistic. ]
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