Days blurred into nights, and nights dissolved into nothing. There was no sun, no moon, no clock — only the cursed treadmills and the sound of two giants running like beasts chained to eternity.
Their legs bled. Their muscles tore. Their bones cracked and healed, over and over, each cycle leaving them denser, harder, monstrous. And not only that — whenever the mysterious figure offered them a break and they agreed, he would immediately shatter their bones and heal them again in an endless cycle of agony. Haruto and Leonhart ran for one and a half days straight, and their so-called "rest" was nothing but bone-crushing conditioning that no man could handle, yet it was being forced upon two young boys.
Haruto's voice rasped, broken by the crushing weight of exhaustion.
"How… long…?"
Leonhart, his eyes hollow yet still burning with defiance, answered with a low growl:
"I stopped counting days… but my heart says it's been… a month."
Their bodies had become unrecognizable. Veins glowed faintly under their skin, coursing with unnatural energy. Their lungs had expanded beyond human capacity, dragging in air like war machines. Their backs had thickened, spines straight like iron pillars.
And yet… their minds had not broken.
The mysterious figure stood before them, arms crossed, clearly amused at their survival.
"Remarkable. You have run for thirty days without collapsing. Any man would have begged for death after the first night. Yet you two… did beg for death but you also tried to kill me. You are brave and idiots, yet you endure. Tell me, Kairo, Leonhart… do you not hate me? Do you not hate this pain?"
Kairo lifted his head, sweat pouring down his face in rivers, his eyes burning with stubborn fire.
"I hate you… but I will never hate myself. You think this suffering makes me your monster? No… this suffering will make me the man who ends you."
Leonhart, panting heavily, still managed to smirk through the exhaustion.
"And when that day comes… you'll regret giving us this strength."
The figure threw his head back and laughed — a sound that shook the cursed gym.
"Good. Good! Hate me. Resist me. The more you fight, the more you grow. And when you break… when your morals finally snap… you will be perfect weapons."
Deep in his twisted mind, the figure thought with dark satisfaction: Well, that's good. The more they hate me, the more they become puppets of mine. And I like it very much. I didn't know these kids were so strong. I'm glad that kid told me to choose them — he is very smart. I will make sure he doesn't leave me.
And so, the treadmills roared on, merciless, never slowing.
A month of hell had passed… but their true suffering had only just begun.
Kairo's legs pumped endlessly, each stride sending fresh waves of agony through his body. The cursed machine forced him forward without mercy, ignoring every scream of his muscles and joints. Beside him, Leonhart ran with the same forced, mechanical rhythm, sweat flying from his brow with every heavy step.
The figure watched them with gleaming eyes, clearly enjoying the sight of two young souls being forged in endless pain.
Kairo's mind screamed for rest, for release, but his body obeyed only the treadmill.
No matter how much you make my body run… my spirit will never run from who I am.
Even as the torment continued without end, a small, defiant spark remained lit in both boys' hearts.
They would endure.
They would survive.
And one day, they would make the shadow regret ever choosing them.
The treadmills finally stopped. The world went still.
For the first time in thirty days, their bodies were not forced into motion. Kairo and Leonhart collapsed like mountains crumbling, dragged back into their cage by sheer exhaustion.
The mysterious figure's voice echoed like a cruel god dismissing his toys:
"Hmm… I am bored. I will think of the next torture later. Until then… rest, little monsters."
The cage shut with a heavy clang. Darkness wrapped around them like a shroud.
Kairo hit the bed first, unable to even turn his head. Leonhart fell beside him, his breath ragged, chest rising and falling like a collapsing forge.
And then… a light appeared.
From Kairo's battered body, a soft green aura flowed outward. It spread gently over his wounds, knitting torn muscles, mending splintered bones, and soothing Leonhart's body as well. The glow whispered of mercy, of defiance — of something the mysterious figure could never understand: healing born of will, not hatred.
For eight long hours, silence reigned. No chains rattled. No machines screamed. Only the sound of deep, steady breathing remained — alive, stubborn, unbroken.
When Kairo's eyes finally opened again, he felt… lighter. Not just healed, but sharpened. His soul felt clearer, his mind steadier, his heart unwavering.
Leonhart stirred beside him, stretching his enormous frame with a low groan. His voice was hoarse, but there was strength behind it.
"Eight hours… feels like eternity. Kairo, I thought I'd never wake up again."
Kairo sat up slowly, clenching his fists as he tested his renewed strength.
"Neither did I. But we're still here. Still breathing. That bastard wants us to break… but as long as we wake up after each torture, we win. Even if just a little."
The two giants exchanged a long look — a silent vow passing between them. The cage was still their prison, but in that quiet moment, it felt almost like a sanctuary.
For now, they had rest.
For now, they had each other.
For now… they were still human.
Outside the cage, the cursed forest loomed in eternal twilight, but inside, the faint green glow lingered for a few seconds longer before fading completely.
Kairo leaned back against the cold bars, staring at the ceiling of their prison. The pain was gone for the moment, but the memory of it remained sharp, a constant reminder of what they were enduring.
Leonhart sat up as well, rolling his shoulders with a tired grunt. For the first time in weeks, the exhaustion on his face wasn't mixed with fresh agony.
They didn't speak much after that. Words weren't needed.
They simply existed — breathing, healing, surviving.
And in the heavy silence of the cage, a small but unbreakable resolve continued to burn.
The mysterious figure might control their bodies.
But he could not yet touch their souls.
Not completely.
Not yet.
Kairo sat cross-legged in the corner of the cage, his stomach screaming louder than any chain or whip ever could. A whole month without food, yet they still lived — not by choice, but by the cruel curse of that figure.
He pressed his palm against his abdomen. The emptiness clawed at him like knives. His throat was painfully dry, his lips cracked and bleeding.
"Leonhart…" his voice came out faint but steady, "we haven't eaten for a month. My stomach… it hurts so much I can barely think."
Leonhart leaned back against the cold iron bars, his enormous frame trembling slightly.
"I know. It feels like my insides are on fire. Yet somehow… we don't die. That's worse than death."
Kairo's green aura flickered faintly around him, but even its healing light could not conjure food from nothing. After a long, heavy silence, he reached into thin air — summoning not knowledge this time, but old scraps of parchment and books. He tore the thick covers off and passed them to Leonhart.
"Here. Wrap these around your stomach. Tight. It won't fill you, but it'll trick your body, hold the hunger back a little."
Leonhart raised an eyebrow, a half-smile breaking through the pain on his face.
"You're telling me to strap knowledge to my gut? That's… strangely fitting, Kairo."
Kairo chuckled weakly, tightening his own belt over the books he had pressed against his bare stomach.
"In my world, people used to say knowledge feeds the mind. Maybe now… it feeds the body too."
The two of them sat in silence, their bodies screaming in protest but their spirits refusing to yield. The cage smelled of sweat, iron, and endless suffering, but their faint, tired laughter echoed louder than the gnawing hunger.
Somewhere in the shadows, the mysterious figure watched, clearly amused.
"They suffer, yet they still joke… How long, I wonder, before hunger devours their spirit? Well, it seems to be going good…"
But Kairo and Leonhart weren't thinking of giving up. Every trial, every torment only carved their will deeper.
If they could survive a month without food, they could survive anything.
Kairo leaned his head back against the bars, eyes half-closed. The hunger was a living thing now, twisting inside him like a serpent. Yet somehow, the simple act of wrapping those book covers around his waist brought a strange, almost ridiculous comfort.
Leonhart did the same, his massive hands moving with surprising gentleness as he secured the makeshift belt.
For a brief moment, the cage didn't feel quite so suffocating.
They were still trapped.
They were still starving.
But they were together.
And in this hell, that small truth was enough to keep them going.
The mysterious figure's laughter faded into the distance, but neither boy paid it any mind.
They would endure.
One empty, painful breath at a time.
Leonhart's stomach growled so loudly it echoed against the cage walls. Kairo could barely move his head, his vision blurring from the relentless hunger. The silence was thick, broken only by their shallow, labored breathing.
Then — suddenly — the air shifted.
A warmth, gentle and pure, swept through the cage like a spring breeze.
Kairo blinked.
"Leonhart… do you smell that?"
Leonhart's eyes widened. The scent of fresh bread — sweet, warm, unlike anything he had smelled in this cursed place. And then came water, clearer than any mountain spring, flowing into a silver goblet that appeared before them.
Both boys stared, stunned.
"It… it can't be the mysterious figure,"
Leonhart whispered. "He would never show mercy."
And then — light.
Radiant, golden, brighter than fire yet softer than moonlight. A figure with wings like woven silk descended into the cage, untouched by any shadow.
A divine angel stood before them. His voice was calm, yet carried a weight that pressed gently into their very souls. Aware of the children's fragile hearts, the angel appeared in the form of a handsome human being, knowing his true form would have made them scream in terror.
"Kairo. Leonhart. Do not despair. Your Lord has heard your cries. You have endured what few men could, and so He has sent me."
He set the bread and water on the ground.
"Eat. Drink. This is pure. No trick, no curse. Every time hunger seeks to break you, I will come. Do not fear."
Tears welled up in Kairo's eyes. His throat tightened — not from pain this time, but from overwhelming relief.
"God… He hasn't abandoned us."
Leonhart's hands trembled as he reached for the bread, breaking it in half. He gave the first piece to Kairo.
"You eat first. You summoned knowledge for me… now let me share this mercy with you."
Kairo accepted, and together they ate slowly, reverently. The bread melted in their mouths, filling not just their bodies but their hearts. The water quenched a thirst that felt eternal, flowing through them like a promise of hope.
The angel watched them with a faint, gentle smile.
"Remember… strength is not forged only in pain. It is also sustained by faith. Hold to your morals, and even in the darkest forest, light will find you."
Then, with wings outstretched, the angel vanished into the golden glow — leaving only the taste of mercy behind.
Kairo exhaled deeply, a quiet warmth settling in his chest.
"Leonhart… we are not alone in this cage."
Leonhart nodded, his eyes burning with renewed resolve.
"No. God walks with us. That means no matter what the mysterious figure does… we will endure."
The cage felt a fraction less oppressive in the aftermath of the angel's visit. The boys sat in silence for a while, the simple act of eating and drinking restoring more than just their bodies — it restored a piece of their hope.
Kairo stared at the empty goblet, fingers tracing its rim.
For the first time in what felt like forever, the darkness didn't feel quite so absolute.
They were still trapped.
They were still suffering.
But they were no longer completely alone.
And that small truth gave them the strength to keep going.
The mysterious figure might control the cage.
But he could not control the light that had just touched their hearts.