Survivor's guilt is a luxury for the rich. For Kael, every breath is a debt, and every truth is a death sentence.
Awakening in White
Pain was the first thing Kael felt. It was a diffuse burning, a slow fire consuming every fiber of his being. He opened his eyes. The light hit him violently. White. Everything was too white. The walls, the ceiling, and the sterile, clinical scent.
A hospital.
Bandages covered his arms, his chest, and his sides. Every movement awakened a heavy, dull ache. He blinked, trying to piece together the fragments of his memory. The wolf. The flight. The dragon. Then, the void.
"It wasn't a dream," he whispered. "All of it is... real."
"Hey, kid."
Kael flinched. The room was empty. He scanned the corners and the ceiling. Nothing.
"Who's speaking?"
"It's me."
"I'm going crazy," Kael groaned, clutching his head.
"IT IS I, THE DRAGON."
The voice made the walls vibrate. He froze in place. Then, he let out a weak breath. "Ah... it's you."
"I am in your heart."
"Very reassuring..." Kael muttered.
"People are coming. Get ready."
Three sharp knocks struck the door.
The Agents of Deceit
Two men entered. They wore black suits without a single crease, opaque sunglasses, and invisible earpieces. They were bureaucratic shadows.
"Hello," the first one said in a measured tone. "Lead Agent Michael Frost, Dungeon Regulation Association. This is my colleague."
Kael nodded. His instinct screamed danger.
Frost opened a file. "Kael Morse. Sole survivor of the Valenhall private dungeon." He looked up. "Are you sure you're a man?"
Kael turned pale. "What?!"
"I warned you," the voice inside him snickered.
"What is your problem?!" Kael snapped.
"My apologies," Frost replied without emotion, closing the file. "Tell me about the dungeon."
Kael clenched his fists. "There was a dragon. Immense. Black, covered in violet runes. It wiped out everything."
The agent took off his glasses. His steel-gray eyes were piercing. "And yet, you... you survived? The weak link of the group? Interesting."
The air grew heavy.
"Listen to me," the dragon whispered. "Repeat what I say."
Kael obeyed, his throat tight. "When things went wrong... Damien ordered me to flee. They told me to warn the authorities. They... they protected me until the end."
His voice trembled with a sincerity that seemed real. Tears fell—genuine this time. Frost stared at him for a long moment before putting his glasses back on.
"I see. Scan him."
The second man brought a device to Kael's wrist. A flash of light followed. 15 credits. Then 115. 315. 815. 1015.
"There's a mistake," Kael stammered. "It was supposed to be 300 credits!"
"No," Frost said flatly. "That is a bonus. For your silence."
Kael felt his chest tighten before he forced a smile. "Thank you."
The agents left. Silence returned, broken only by the sad hum of the IV machine.
Return to Reality
"Why does everything hurt?" Kael exhaled.
"I knocked you out before they arrived," the voice replied calmly. "I preferred you alive and credible rather than dead and suspicious."
"Charming."
The sound of footsteps approached. A nurse entered with a routine smile. "Young lady, you're awake."
"I AM A BOY!"
"Everyone will say that when they see you," the dragon mocked.
Kael grunted. He grabbed his things and dressed quickly. He wanted to get out. He needed to feel the outside air, even the air of Sector F.
The Way Home
Sector 5 was wealthy and clean, sprawling before him like another planet. There were mirrored towers, silent armored vehicles, and scented streets. Then, further on, the decay began. The contrast hit him hard.
"Well?" the dragon asked. "Do you accept the pact?"
Kael stopped dead. "And if I refuse?"
"I take your body."
The tone was calm, simple, and terrifying.
"I accept..."
"Good answer. You will become strong. Stronger than anyone. And this world will fear you just as it despised you."
Kael's fists clenched. "I've waited for this day my whole life."
"But every strength has a price."
"I don't care."
The city shifted around him. Polished facades gave way to leprous buildings, graffiti, and broken streetlamps. Sector F welcomed him back. This was home.
The Weight of Absence
The door swung open with a bang.
"Liam!"
His brother lay on the floor. His breathing was ragged. He was deathly pale with blue lips. Kael lunged toward their makeshift pharmacy, prepared the syringe, and injected the stabilizer with trembling hands.
"Come on, big guy... breathe!"
Liam slowly returned to life. His blue eyes opened, flickering. "You came back..."
Kael pulled him into his arms. "Always."
There were tears, then a laugh. "I thought you had abandoned me too."
"Never," Kael whispered.
They stayed like that for a moment—brothers in a world that wanted to crush them. When Liam finally spoke, his voice was thin and childlike. "I'm hungry."
Kael smiled and raised his wrist. 1015 credits were displayed there. "Tonight, we're having a real dinner."
Liam's eyes widened. "Did you steal?!"
"Not a chance! I earned it!"
A pillow flew through the air. Laughter erupted. For a moment, life took shape again. Hope felt real. Then the dragon's voice returned, cold and grave.
"Kid. We must seal the pact. Now."
Kael flinched. "Why now?"
"Because without an official bond, my energy will destroy you from the inside. You have two hours. Three at most."
"Explode?!" Kael repeated, his face turning white.
"Exactly."
Liam reached out, concerned. "Kael? What's happening?"
Kael forced a smile that rang hollow. "Nothing, don't worry about it."
But deep down, he knew. The price of the lie was only a prelude. The true ordeal was only beginning.