The iron door clicked shut, leaving Senz in a silence so thick it felt like it was pressing against his eardrums. He didn't have the luxury of brooding. If the Overseer was telling the truth, he had less than twenty-four hours before he was tossed into the Blood Pond. In the game, that was a specialized despawn zone for failed assets. In this reality, it was just an agonizing way to dissolve.
(I need to move. I don't care if it tears me apart. I have to move.)
He dragged his focus inward. The view was bleak. His internal map was a mess of grayed-out lines and red "Critical Error" markers where his meridians should have been. To any master in this world, he was a bucket with a shattered bottom. You could pour all the Qi in the world into him, and it would just leak out into the dirt.
He took a breath. It was a jagged, shallow thing that made his broken ribs grind together. He ignored the flare of white heat in his side and focused on the microscopic particles of energy floating in the stagnant air of the cell. In the game, this was the ambient mana density. Here, it felt like tiny, invisible grains of sand hitting his skin.
He began the breathing technique again.
Four seconds of inhalation. He felt the cold air enter his throat, but instead of letting it settle in his lungs, he tried to "grip" the energy within it. He used his Intelligence stat like a pair of surgical tweezers, plucking the stray sparks of Qi from the oxygen.
Then came the hold.
This was the part that made his vision swim. He didn't let the air out. He forced the gathered Qi downward, bypassing the throat and chest meridians entirely. He pushed the energy toward his sternum, aiming for the core of his bones.
The resistance was immense. It felt like trying to push a marble through a solid sheet of lead. His body began to thrash instinctively, his heels drumming a weak, frantic rhythm against the stone slab. A thick, metallic taste filled his mouth as he bit down on his tongue to keep from screaming.
(Push. Don't let it dissipate. Focus it into a point. Thinner than a needle.)
He visualized the energy vibrating. He began to oscillate the Qi at a high frequency, mimicking the "Animation Cancel" glitch he used to use to bypass the cooldowns of his sword skills.
The friction generated heat. A searing, localized burn sparked in the center of his chest. It wasn't the warm, fuzzy glow described in the cultivation manuals. it was the feeling of a drill bit boring into his marrow.
(System: Warning. Bone density is insufficient for current pressure.)
(System: Marrow Tempering progress: 0.02%.)
Sweat poured off his brow, stinging his eyes. His breath came in ragged, desperate hitches. Every time he successfully "clicked" a fragment of Qi into his bone, a fresh wave of nausea hit him. It was a slow, agonizing grind. For every step forward, his body seemed to scream for him to just give up and go into shock.
He couldn't afford to go into shock. He pulled another breath.
This time, he tried to pull more. He reached out further, his mental "grip" straining. He felt the Qi in the room tremble. It began to swirl around his prone body; drawn in by the vacuum he was creating through sheer mental force.
The pain reached a new peak. It felt like his skeleton was being replaced by molten glass. He could hear his own pulse thundering in his ears, a frantic drumbeat that kept time with the red flickering of his health bar.
(Again. Do it again.)
He repeated the cycle. Inhale. Grip. Hold. Vibrate.
Hours bled into each other. The only way he knew time was passing was the slow crawl of the moonlight across the filth on the floor. His muscles were locked in a permanent cramp, his fingers curled into claws, but he didn't stop. He couldn't. The moment he stopped the vibration, the gathered Qi would scatter, and he'd be back to being a corpse.
By the time the moon began to set, Senz was shaking so violently the stone slab was rattling. But something had changed. The cold, dead numbness in his right hand had been replaced by a dull, throbbing heat.
He opened his eyes, his pupils blown wide and bloodshot. He looked at his hand. It didn't look different, but when he willed his index finger to twitch, it obeyed. It was a small, pathetic movement, but it was a movement he had earned through pure torture.
Attributes:
Strength: 2 -> 3
Agility: 1 -> 2
Stamina: 1 -> 2
(It's working. The stats are moving.)
He slumped back, his lungs burning. He had managed to fix a fraction of a percent of the damage. It wasn't enough to fight, but it was enough to crawl. He looked toward the corner of the cell where the shadows were darkest.
In the game, every cell in the Blood Shadow Sect had a "hidden cache" behind a loose stone a bit of lore left by a developer about a prisoner who died before he could use his tools.
Senz rolled off the stone slab. He hit the floor with a wet thud, the impact sending a fresh jolt of agony through his tempered ribs. He didn't cry out. He just started to crawl, dragging his dead-weight legs behind him, his fingernails digging into the cracks between the floor stones.