There was only one thing Asher remembered after lunging at the man in black:
Darkness.
Not the comforting kind that follows sleep, but a suffocating void — thick, heavy, swallowing him whole. When consciousness flickered back into his mind, he tried to open his eyes.
Nothing.
Just endless black.
A blindfold.
He tried to move, but his body refused. His arms felt nailed in place. His legs might as well have been carved from stone. Even his neck couldn't tilt. Panic swelled in his throat, raw and choking.
He tried to scream—
No sound escaped.
His voice was gone.
The only thing that still worked was his mind.
And all he could think about was Arsen.
Did he run far enough?Did he hide?Is he safe?
A thousand fears tore at him, each sharper than the last.
Then, without warning, light ripped through the darkness.
Someone removed the blindfold. A blinding white glare stabbed into his eyes like knives. He winced, blinking rapidly until shapes began to form.
A room.Cold. Metallic. Clinical.
Glass panels surrounded him on all sides — observation windows, tinted so dark he could see only silhouettes behind them. Thick cables snaked across the floor, all converging toward—
He swallowed hard.
Toward the chair he was strapped into.
Thick metal cuffs bound his wrists and ankles. Straps tightened across his chest and forehead. He couldn't move because he wasn't meant to.
This was a lab.
He wasn't a person to them.
He was an experiment.
A distorted voice crackled through an intercom. "Subject is awake."
Shadows shifted behind the glass.
Then a man spoke — calm, authoritative, unsettlingly casual. The kind of voice scientists had when discussing a specimen in a jar.
"Asher Di Diavolo," the voice said, "do you know about your power?"
Asher tried to answer, but his throat was dead weight. No words, no whisper, not even a rasp.
"Ah," the man said, "that would be the paralysis serum. My mistake."
A switch flipped.
Electricity speared through Asher's body.
His back arched violently against the chair. His teeth ground together. A strangled cry forced its way out, muffled by pain.
And suddenly he could breathe again.Move again.Scream again.
The man repeated, "Do you know about your power?"
Asher gasped, "Wh-what power? I don't know anything! Please—I just want my brother—"
"Lies," the man snapped. "I know you've felt it. The force inside you. It's impossible for someone like you not to feel it."
"I don't!" Asher cried. "I swear—I don't know anything! Please, let me go, let me see Arsen—"
Another wave of electricity slammed through him.
His vision burst with white stars. His muscles spasmed uncontrollably. Blood filled his mouth from biting his tongue.
The man didn't wait for him to recover.
"Tell the truth, Asher. What do you know about your power?"
"I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING!" he screamed, voice cracking.
Silence.
Then a slow, deliberate click.
"If you refuse to speak," the man said, "we will simply force your power out."
A new switch flipped.
This time it wasn't electricity.
Heat.
The chair beneath him began to burn — metal heating rapidly until it felt like sitting on a furnace. The smell of his own skin scorching filled his nose.
Asher choked on a sob.The pain was unbearable.His body trembled violently.
He tried to endure it.
For Arsen.
But something inside him — something ancient, buried, cursed — snapped open like a beast shaking off chains.
A pulse of red-hot fury erupted in his chest.Anger.
Not emotion.Not frustration.
A force.
A curse from centuries past — a power that amplified strength, brutality, and rage. A power passed down to only a handful of unlucky souls each generation.
And Asher was one of them.
His eyes burned. His veins pulsed with fire. His muscles surged against the restraints. Metal groaned, strained—
Then broke.
With a roar, Asher shoved himself out of the chair, fragments of metal clattering across the floor. He was on his feet in an instant, leaping toward the tinted window where the man stood.
He slammed into it with monstrous force.
Glass shattered.
He lunged through the opening, landing in front of a man in a white lab coat, eyes icy with superiority. Asher drew back his fist, rage spiraling like thunder inside him—
And then—
Everything went cold.
The world tilted.
His vision dimmed.
And Asher collapsed face-first onto the floor.
Unconscious.
They dragged his limp body away.
"As expected," the doctor murmured to his team. "The curse manifests strongest under extreme emotional stress. His anger is limitless… but unstable."
A different shadow spoke from the back of the room.
"Can it be controlled?"
"Oh yes," the doctor said, smiling faintly. "With enough conditioning, torture, deprivation… he will break. They always break."
The shadow stepped into the faint light.
A man in an expensive suit.Cold eyes.A predator wearing silk.
Frank Fosher.
"Good," he said. "We need him. A power like his could change everything for Fosher Enterprises."
Asher didn't know how long he was unconscious.
When he woke, he was inside a dark, icy cell.No light.No warmth.No food.
The only time they fed him was before torturing him.
Days blurred into nights.Nights blurred into agony.
Electricity.Heat.Isolation.Needles.Pain.Pain.More pain.
They tried to force the anger out of him.Tried to shape it.Tried to shape him.
But Asher refused.He refused to talk.Refused to obey.Refused to break.
Every time he didn't speak, the torture increased.
Bruises layered over bruises.Scars split open.His body weakened.His mind frayed.
But still—
He never spoke.
Never gave them what they wanted.
Never betrayed Arsen.
Until one day—
His body simply stopped fighting.
The last breath slipped from his lungs.
And Asher Di Diavolo—
Died.