However, like sand slipping through his fingers, the memory remained completely out of reach. No matter how much he wrestled with his mind, he couldn't put his finger on it. Yet his gut screamed that it wasn't that long ago—maybe even just yesterday—that he had seen this face, impossible as that seemed.
Shaking off the elusive thought, he focused back on the healer, who was struggling to regain his composure and suppress the surging white aura emanating from his fists.
Retracting the aura around his hand, the healer struck with blinding speed, landing a heavy punch straight to Gil's jaw.
The blow snapped Gil's head violently to the side, his cheek instantly swelling and darkening to a deep purple.
"Shut up!" the healer spat.
Despite taking the full force of the hit, Gil didn't snap back with anger. Slowly straightening his neck, he turned his gaze back to the healer. His glowing eyes burned even colder now, his expression shifting into a quiet, mockingly sharp smile before a dry laugh escaped his lips.
"Heh..."
The healer knit his brows, glaring down at him.
"What the hell are you laughing at, brat?"
"Nothing much," Gil replied lightly. "I just remembered something a friend of mine used to say."
Before the healer could interrupt, Gil pressed on, his voice dropping into a reflective tone as if musing out loud to himself.
"He told me once that in any argument or debate, the first person who resorts to violence is the one who knows deep down they've already lost the war of words. I'll admit, back then I was the one who threw the fist... but looking at it now, he wasn't wrong, was he? What do you think?"
Gil leaned in slightly, his sharp, dark-gilded eyes locking onto the healer's shaken face.
"You couldn't win with words, so you reached for your fists instead."
With visible effort and a cold glare, the healer stared back.
"You know nothing about me."
Far from impressed, Gil let out a mocking chuckle.
"Oh, did I hit a nerve? 'I know nothing about you'—what a joke! Must hurt, right? Having someone who knows nothing about your circumstances, your pain, or what you're struggling through start running their mouth about what you're going through. Sound familiar?"
Gil's eyes pierced right through him.
The young man opened his mouth to speak, but Gil cut him off instantly.
"Oh, don't give me that 'it's for your own good' crap! Teaching us how to fight and pushing our bodies... sure, fine. In a shithole like this, it's clearly survival of the fittest. But tell me—after you teach them all this and help them survive, who does it actually benefit in the end? Who are they going to be forced to fight for? Or are you going to tell me you have no idea what's waiting for them after this?"
The healer took a step back, looking as if he had been physically struck.
Gil let out a heavy sigh and shook his head. "Honestly, I don't even know what to say about you. Do you even realize how much control these people have over you? You don't think about fighting back, escaping, or rebelling. Maybe you have your reasons, I don't know. But at least try. All you think about... hell, even the way you speak about them. I don't know anyone besides that bastard Hector—and there's no way in hell I'm calling him 'Sir' or 'Master'—but leaving aside Hector, whom I despise to my core, what about this Lucius guy playing high and mighty? Anyone can see that guy isn't someone you can trust."
He took a step closer to the healer. "At least with that bastard Hector, as much as I hate him, he has the merit of being brutal, honest, and direct with you and everyone else. He wants to use you? He says it straight to your face and enforces it through pure power. As painful as that is, I understand the logic. I am weak, so he dictates his terms. The rule is simple: I get stronger than him, and I make him pay. But Lucius? Just looking at him, you know he is bad news. And you keep calling them 'Sir'? Do you realize how absurd that sounds?"
As Gil delivered his sharp tirade, the healer's mind began to unravel under the pressure.
Several times, the familiar white light surged around his hands, looking as if he were a second away from striking the boy again.
Yet each time, the aura flickered violently and died down—as though crushed by an invisible, oppressive weight.
At first, the healer assumed it was a lingering remnant of his own conscience holding him back despite the sheer rage brewing in his chest.
But as Gil kept pressing, a terrifying realization dawned on him: even if he desperately wanted to attack, he couldn't.
Layer after layer of invisible chains, suffocating restrictions, and dense pressure seemed to wrap around his body and mind, locking his power away completely.
Slowly, his gaze shifted toward Gil. He stared at the boy with a newfound seriousness—and a trace of hidden fear he refused to admit.
Gil, still completely oblivious to the spiritual pressure his golden-eyed state was unknowingly exerting, refused to back down.
"Tell me the truth," Gil demanded, his tone dropping into a cold, uncompromising register. "You train us... and then what? What's the endgame? You've been here longer than any of us. Those who came before us and went through this exact same training—how did they end up?"
He paused for a long second, his golden gaze cutting straight through the healer's shaken resolve.
The young man bit his lower lip until it almost bled, remaining silent for a long, heavy moment.
Finally, through tightly clenched teeth, he forced out the words: "At least... they'll live longer."
Gil froze for a split second, caught off guard by the sheer emotional weight it had taken for the healer to utter that single sentence.
Seeing the exhaustion beneath the man's bitterness, the raw anger in Gil's chest slowly began to ebb away and he lost the mood to talk further about this,though the intensity in his gaze remained sharp.
"Look at me," Gil said, his voice dropping to a far calmer, measured tone. "I'm not pretending to have some grand alternative here. And you're right—maybe if you put it to them..."
He gestured with his chin toward the rest of the captives behind him, some slowly recovering, others still unconscious on the cold stone. "...plenty of them would agree with you. They'd rather cling to life at any cost. And who knows? Maybe they'll find something along the way. I doubt you had these powers when you first got dragged into this place, or you wouldn't have been captured in the first place. Maybe you built this strength here, hoping to walk out one day and live a better life than the one you had before."
Gil paused, looking down at his single remaining arm before meeting the healer's eyes once more.
"But I don't believe in free handouts in a world like this. Whether it's fighting their battles or whatever else they've got planned for us—if you take from them, you'll be forced to give back. And they will be the ones deciding when it's enough... if it ever is. Me and my guys? I have zero intention of staying here just to become their loyal hounds. You can go run and tell that to those 'Sirs' of yours if you want."
Though knowing Hector, he already knows I won't just follow his script obediently, Gil added silently to himself.
He let out a tired breath as the radiant gold in his eyes slowly dimmed, fading back into their original deep amber.
"Do whatever you want. I'm done talking to you."
Gil paused before turning away, his tone turning dangerously even. "Either way, we won't stop ourselves from joining the upcoming training sessions. We aren't just going to try—we're going to participate. Every single session. After all, gaining every possible edge is just another tool to survive one more day in this hellhole, right?"
He offered the healer a bleak, razor-thin smile.
"However, as you might have guessed, I have no intention of sticking to their script. I'm not asking for your help. Hell, I'm not even sure if you're still capable of thinking for yourself anymore. But mark my words on one thing."
Gil stepped closer, his deep amber eyes locking onto the young man with absolute resolve.
"When the moment comes—and it will come—when we try to shatter the chains and shackles these bastards put on us, even if it ends up being in vain... when that moment arrives, you will have to choose a side. And if you happen to stand in our way..."
His smile turned completely ice-cold.
"...I won't show you an ounce of mercy."