The pain never stopped.
Day after day, it came in waves — searing, stabbing, suffocating. Burns on his skin. Electric shocks that rattled his bones. Blunt strikes that left him swollen and barely breathing. Axios never tired, and neither did his cruelty.
In those moments, Itsumi had only one refuge.
Prayer.
"Please...""Someone, anyone, save me...""God, if you exist, please—"
No answer came.
He begged in his thoughts, over and over. Begged for mercy. Begged for death. The screams tore from his throat until his voice was hoarse and broken. But the torment never ceased.
Axios was meticulous. He kept Itsumi alive on stale water and canned tuna, just enough to keep his body breathing while his soul was slowly ground into dust.
The world outside — his family, the laughter, the candles — felt like another lifetime. A dream he might've made up. The only things that remained were the screams and the heat of burning iron.
Then, slowly, something shifted.
Itsumi stopped feeling the pain.
The flames licked his skin, but he didn't react. The electric shocks made his muscles twitch, but he didn't cry out. He no longer begged. No longer whimpered. No longer prayed.
His thoughts became silent.
He remembered Axios's words.
"No one knows who you are.""No one will look for you.""You were never meant to exist."
It was true.
Itsumi was a ghost. His birth certificate barely processed. No school records. No medical records beyond a neighborhood pediatrician. No paper trail. No witnesses.
No one would come.No one could come.
"Maybe the gods hate me," he thought."Maybe my birthday wish cursed me."
That small voice — the one that used to dream — was gone now.
Axios noticed the change immediately.
"He's quiet now," he muttered, grinning.
Itsumi no longer flinched when struck. His breathing was calm, his gaze hollow. When his bindings were finally loosened, he fell to his knees like a puppet with its strings cut. His head hung low. He didn't move.
Axios knelt beside him, two fingers tilting his chin upward. But even then, Itsumi didn't meet his eyes. His gaze was distant — staring past Axios, past the room, into a void that could never be filled.
"Perfect," Axios whispered.
His grin stretched, wolfish and gleeful.
"He's finally empty."
A nurse was summoned.
She cleaned the burns with cold precision, injected nanomedics into the scarred tissue, applied advanced regenerative patches. Her face was neutral. Efficient. Robotic.
Itsumi stared at her the entire time. He didn't mistake her silence for kindness. She didn't care. No one here did.
He was just... property. Flesh to be repaired.
Once stabilized, Axios summoned him again.
The room was different now. No restraints. No metal columns. Just Axios, sitting on a chair, chuckling to himself as Itsumi was brought in.
"Look at you," Axios said with a laugh. "So calm. So cold."
He stood up and walked toward the boy.
"Now the real fun begins."