"An endless agony. That is surviving. But if one can see the beauty in that agony, one unlocks the possibility of living."
"That's a beautiful sentiment and all, but go die in a hole."
"Ah, how amusing you are, epigone."
***
Vale could still see, but he couldn't process.
'Pain.'
'No flames.'
'No octagon.'
'Pain.'
That was all the line of thought he could manage.
His entire body felt as if it was basking in a tempered flame. Like he was a metal being buffeted by a blacksmith. A process of reforging into something stronger by folding what was there and tightening. Like all that was before had been condensed into his heart, and from his heart a new body was trying to break free.
Each additional part pounding against the cage of his heart.
There wasn't a single moment he was freed from the pain.
It did not crest. It did not ebb. The agony was not a wave but a pressure. Like the slow, merciless tightening of a vise cranking tighter around his ribs, cracking them.
