Kaito's vision was a swirl of shadow and white, twisting impossibly, a realm not quite real but more vivid than anything he had known. Pain and exhaustion from his last release of eclipse power still lingered, but in this void, his body did not matter. His mind was free—or as free as it could be within the oppressive weight of his own consciousness.
And then she appeared.
The girl. Her purple hair, covering one eye, flickered like smoke in the void. Calm. Cold. Unnervingly beautiful. She floated without effort, her presence both a comfort and a threat. Her visible eye bore into him, deep violet with a tinge of indifference that made Kaito's chest tighten.
"When… when I smiled at 56," Kaito croaked, voice hoarse even in this dreamlike plane. "When I was filled with eclipse power… did you… did you make me smile? For no reason?"
She tilted her head, letting her hidden eye remain veiled by the cascade of hair. "Yes," she said, her voice soft, yet chilling, each word like a blade sliding into his mind. "You were unconscious… for too long. Too much emotion had built within you, and I had to release it. Anger, despair, fear… even joy, twisted and unformed. You could not hold it alone."
Kaito's brow furrowed, a low tremor running through his body, though the pain here was not physical. "You… you did it for me?"
She let out a chilling laugh, the sound echoing in the emptiness. "Not for you. For me. I needed to feel it, to channel it, to… test the boundaries of your mind." Her tone darkened, each word a warning. "Kaito, you shouldn't hide your hatred, your despair, your anger, your loneliness, your depression… or any negative emotion."
Her gaze intensified, the shadow of her hidden eye seeming to follow him even as he recoiled. "If you do… if you bury it all… I will consume you."
A cold shiver ran down Kaito's spine, and yet, deep within the storm of his consciousness, a strange thrill surged. Pain, fear, warning—it all mingled with the darkness in his chest. He wanted to fight it, to resist, yet part of him… understood. She smiled then, a cruel, knowing curve of her lips. The void shimmered around her as if it had absorbed her mood.
And then—pain.
It pierced through the false safety of his vision, dragging him downward, pulling him back into the physical world. His eyes snapped open.
White. Sterile. Blindingly bright white walls stretched around him. He was restrained in a narrow bed, tubes and pipes snaking into his arms, chest, and neck. Dark, thin lines marked his skin—fresh injection points, bruises from past experiments, and small cauterized scars. His lungs burned, muscles twitched, yet… he was alive.
Alexander was there, leaning casually against a console, one eyebrow raised. His calm, measured smile made Kaito's blood boil with a mixture of fear, anger, and recognition. "Ah… our little eclipse boy wakes up," Alexander said smoothly, voice low but carrying the same edge of dominance that had always unnerved Kaito.
Kaito's throat tightened. "Where… am I?" His voice came out hoarse, nearly breaking.
"You are in Regan's main headquarters," Alexander replied, stepping closer, hands folded behind his back. "Fern. A facility established in the middle of the world's largest lake—Tor Lake—nestled between the Chack and Curu mountains. Secure, isolated… inescapable. It seems appropriate for a global threat such as yourself."
Kaito's hands clenched against the restraints, veins standing out on his wrists. "I… I'm here because I… possess eclipse power, right?" His voice wavered. "Because of what happened…"
Alexander's eyes glinted, sharp and calculating. "Yes. I suppose you're… used to it now. You've been through far worse than this. But understand this: you are a global threat. Your powers… scare people. And now, they must be contained, stabilized, studied. Until your abilities are understood, you will remain here. The world governments… together, all of them… will decide your fate."
Kaito's chest tightened. He could feel the weight of the words, heavier than any chains. Every part of him screamed to resist, but his body betrayed him. His veins burned where vantablack and unbilium pipes connected directly into his bloodstream, siphoning energy, monitoring his every heartbeat, suppressing even the smallest trace of eclipse power.
Alexander stepped back, surveying him coolly. "Do not try to fight yet. You will not succeed. And even if you did… the consequences will be catastrophic. Understand, Kaito? This is not punishment… this is containment. Your existence is not yours alone now."
Before Kaito could respond, the door hissed open. Scientists in white lab coats entered, each carrying devices and instruments that made his stomach knot with memory. Instruments that once pried into his veins, measured his pain thresholds, extracted and tested his energy… the memories surged, relentless.
He remembered.
The first time Kuro had experimented on him—the suffocating darkness, the cold steel, the sharp instruments, the chemicals injected directly into his veins. The way his screams had echoed in empty corridors. The way his body had convulsed under controlled agony. He remembered the moments of release, the tiny sparks of power, and the utter exhaustion that followed.
Now, decades of trauma compressed into a single instant of remembrance. And now, it was worse. He was older, stronger, and the eclipse power that had made him a nightmare on the battlefield surged in the background, suppressed but ever present. The pipes and connections burned like fire through his bloodstream, not enough to destroy, but enough to remind him that he was under control.
The scientists gathered around his bed, murmuring amongst themselves, their voices clinical, detached, yet carrying the undercurrent of anticipation. They did not see the boy they were restraining—they saw a tool, a weapon, a global anomaly to be dissected.
Kaito's eyes flicked toward Alexander, who stood watching, calculating, and calm. Not a word passed between them, but Kaito felt the weight of observation heavier than chains. He remembered the purple-haired girl's warning, the taste of despair, and the lingering pulse of hatred buried deep within him. She had said she would consume him if he hid his negative emotions… but here, Alexander, the scientists, the whole world—was trying to suppress it, to siphon it, to neutralize it.
And for the first time, Kaito felt a cold, resolute clarity.
They would not break him.
He could feel the darkness at the edges of his mind stir, coiling, ready to lash out. But it was not yet time. His body betrayed him. The pipes and injections forced him into stasis, restrained the surge of energy that had once toppled men like towers of paper. Every sinew ached from the last release; every nerve screamed for reprieve.
One scientist approached with a needle, carefully preparing another injection. Kaito's vision blurred as memories of Kuro, the capsule, and endless pain flowed back. He saw himself in his first days of experimentation, screaming silently while monitors measured his agony, while hands he could not recognize—nor trust—tested his endurance. He remembered the way his own tears had felt like fuel to the experimenters, how despair had been twisted into their data, and how rage had been crushed by cold precision.
Kaito's chest heaved. He wanted to scream, but the voice would not come. His body fought against him, muscles twitching involuntarily, restrained by the invasive machinery. And yet… somewhere deep inside, the black aura stirred, subtle and dangerous. Not enough to escape, not enough to harm, but enough to remind him that he was not broken.
The scientists paused, glancing at each other, sensing the faint pulse of power beneath the suppression. Alexander's eyes met Kaito's for a moment. There was no warmth there—only the same calculating dominance—but something flickered, a recognition. The boy was alive. The boy was still dangerous.
Kaito shut his eyes briefly, recalling the girl's words once more. "Do not hide your hatred… or I will consume you." And he understood in that fleeting moment—the girl had been preparing him for this. For all of this. For the restraint, the experimentation, the global fear. She had stoked his emotions when he was vulnerable so he could survive, even under unbearable control.
But now he was awake. Conscious. Observing. And even if the world wanted to suppress him, even if every injection, every pipe, every machine sought to bend his will, he would endure.it was bearable untill now.
Alexander's voice cut through the sterile air, quiet but sharp. "This is not a playground, Kaito. Your every move, every thought, every heartbeat… is under scrutiny. Comprehend this now. The world waits. And you will comply… for now."
---
The sterile white light of the chamber was blinding, reflecting off the endless pipes, monitors, and the endless white walls. Kaito lay strapped to the bed, tubes and wires piercing his skin at every turn. His lungs burned with each shallow breath, his muscles trembled, and the ache that ran through every fiber of his body was relentless. He could feel the faint, residual pulse of his eclipse power beneath the suppression of the unbilium and vantablack pipes, a smoldering ember trapped beneath a mountain of pain and control.
One of the scientists, wearing a white coat that seemed almost luminous in the clinical space, approached with another syringe with its content glowing which is reminding him of kuro painful injection. Kaito's eyes widened, fear tightening like iron bands around his chest. He struggled weakly against his restraints, but his arms and legs were tethered to the table, immobile. He could do nothing.
"Please… don't—" his voice cracked before it could finish.
Alexander's presence lingered near the entrance, silent, hands behind his back. His gaze was calm, almost indifferent, his eyes cold, calculating. Kaito's mind screamed, searching for any hint of mercy in that gaze, but there was none. Just observation.
The scientist drew the plunger back and began to inject the chemical into Kaito's arm. The moment it entered his bloodstream, Kaito's body convulsed violently. Pain, sharp and burning, tore through his veins, crawling into his muscles, twisting his bones. His fingers clawed at the restraints, nails digging into the metal. He opened his mouth, a scream tearing from his throat, raw and uncontrolled.
"Help! Somebody! Please! Somebody help me!" he cried, each word a jagged shard of desperation. His voice broke as tears streamed down his pale face, dampening the hospital sheet beneath him.
The chemical coursed through him, and memories surged uncontrollably—memories of Kuro's first experiments, the capsule, the injections, the endless testing. He felt again the ice-cold instruments pressing against his veins, the biting pain of chemicals flooding his blood, the suffocating fear of never being free. Each flashback struck like a whip across his mind.
"Somebody… help me… please…" he whimpered, the sound broken, fragile, yet desperate. His body writhed weakly, restrained but screaming with unrelenting agony. "I… I'm alone… please… mom… dad… sis… somebody… please help me…"
One of the younger scientists flinched, recoiling from the intensity of Kaito's cries. Others averted their eyes, unable to bear the raw humanity of the boy trapped under their cold procedures. Alexander remained unmoved, silent as stone, observing, calculating, letting the boy suffer while every inch of Kaito's body throbbed with pain.
"His eclipse power… it's not stable," one of the senior scientists muttered under their breath, as if discussing a machine instead of the boy writhing in front of them. "We need more stabilizer… more chemicals… he must be stable."
Another syringe, another injection. Kaito's body arched violently as the new chemical entered his veins. He screamed, a sound that echoed through the empty room, fractured and raw. His chest heaved, tears streaming, sweat mingling with blood at the injection sites. Each puncture, each chemical coursing through his body, brought back flashes of pain from every experiment he had endured before. Every memory, every cut, every burn, every scream collided in an unending storm of suffering.
"I… I… can't… please… stop… help me… somebody…" His voice broke over and over, until the words were nothing more than choked gasps. The body, once resilient under the weight of past experiments, trembled weakly, exhausted from the sheer magnitude of agony.
Alexander watched silently from the far side of the room, his arms crossed. He did not intervene. He did not comfort. He simply observed. The boy's cries filled the chamber, a bitter chorus of despair that seemed to cling to the walls like smoke. Alexander's calmness was almost more terrifying than the chemicals themselves.
Hours—or maybe it was minutes, Kaito had lost track of time—passed in a haze of pain. One injection after another, each chemical burning through his bloodstream, each stabilizer twisting his internal organs, muscles, and nerves into knots of suffering. Kaito's body was a map of agony: bruises, bandages, holes from the vantablack and unbilium tubes, raw injection sites. Every inch of him had been used, tested, broken, and restrained.
Through the blur of pain, his mind wandered, unwillingly, to memories that clawed at him. The first time Kuro had injected him, how small, powerless, and alone he had felt. The suffocating chill of the capsule, the sterile coldness of the lab, the sense of being reduced to a tool. He remembered screaming for help, crying for someone—anyone—to intervene, and how no one had. How Alexander, Kuro, the scientists—none of them had been human in those moments. All had been machinery, calculating, clinical, observing.
Now it was happening again. Now it was worse.
He cried, soft at first, then loud, then a guttural scream that shook the bed. "I'm alone… I'm alone… please… help… help me… mom… dad… sis… I am alone!" His body trembled violently, limbs shivering despite the restraints. His heart pounded in a rhythm of terror and exhaustion.
The chemical treatments continued. Every new syringe, every stab of the stabilizer, every pulse of the vantablack and unbilium through his veins, made him convulse further. And still Alexander stood silent, untouched by the sound of human suffering.
Some of the scientists could not bear to watch. Their hands shook, their eyes full of guilt, but they were trapped in their roles, helpless against the orders that commanded them to stabilize him at any cost. And Kaito… Kaito was trapped in pain, drowning in memories of every past violation of his body, every injection, every scream that had gone unheard.
"I… I… I can't… please… help… someone…" His broken voice repeated, over and over, a refrain of despair that filled the chamber.
The pain began to dull slightly—not from mercy, but because the chemicals had begun to stabilize his eclipse power. The pulse of energy that had throbbed beneath his skin now ebbed, controlled, tempered. But the cost was visible: his body was battered, marked by endless injections, bandages covering the worst punctures, the pipes and tubes leaving tracks across his arms, chest, and legs.
He lay there, exhausted, shivering, tears flowing freely, chest heaving. The world was distant, a cold, sterile chamber where only his pain existed. His mind drifted again, memories clawing at him: the capsule, the experiments, the cold laughter of those who watched him suffer, Kuro's face, the fear of his own uncontrolled power. And now… Alexander's presence, distant but inescapable, the ever-watchful eye that studied him as though he were nothing more than an instrument.
Arthur....alia..." Kaito whispered through broken sobs. His head fell to the pillow, shoulders shaking. His entire body burned with exhaustion and pain.
He remembered the first moments of despair after receiving the eclipse power, the loneliness that had followed, the fear of what he had become. Now it was compounded, amplified, layered atop the abuse and torment of the experiments. His body ached. His spirit was battered. And his mind… his mind felt fractured.
Exhaustion claimed him slowly, his tears still streaming, his body trembling, muscles spasming from the relentless injections, the stabilizers, the unbilium and vantablack tubes. He was broken. Weak. Depressed. Isolated. Traumatized.
Kaito lay there, the sterile white light reflecting off the metal bed and the tubes piercing his veins, sobbing quietly now, crying for help that would not come. Alone, exhausted, and broken, he whispered into the emptiness of the chamber:
As his his body trembling, muscles spasming from the relentless injections, the stabilizers, the unbilium and vantablack tubes. His entire body was covered in bandages, the marks of countless needles etched into his pale skin, a map of torment and endurance. Every puncture, every scar, every strip of bandage told the story of suffering he had endured.
But somewhere, deep in the recesses of his mind, beneath the haze of pain and chemicals, beneath the echo of memories and despair, a flicker of the black aura remained. It was faint. Barely perceptible. But it pulsed. A silent whisper of resilience, a spark of something that could not be extinguished, even in the midst of agony, isolation, and despair.