"Sir, we have secured our hidden piece."
The young, caped soldier sat cross-legged on his opulent throne, his cheek resting lazily against his palm. He stared blankly into the empty air of the grand hall, his piercing gaze looking as though it could strip the universe of all its secrets.
"Hmm," the soldier hummed softly. "Perhaps this is the exact variable we need to completely overturn our passive situation."
"Yes, Sir." The head butler bowed deeply, taking a step back to exit the chamber.
The young soldier's eyes remained fixed on the void, but a cold command escaped his lips just as the butler reached the doorway.
"I do not want any mishaps with this one."
The butler nodded silently and slipped out of the hall, leaving the young soldier entirely alone. A moment later, the soldier himself stood and vanished into the shadows, leaving no trace that he had ever been there. Only his final, whispered words echoed lightly in the empty room.
'Now, every single chess piece lies perfectly in my hand... I want to see how the rats try to escape my grip.'
…
'Help us! Please, help us!'
'I don't want to die!'
'You miserable bitch! Why won't you give me—'
'Why? Why did my best friend cheat with my husband? Why?!'
'I don't want to live anymore!'
'Power! I need power! I swear I'll trade my own soul for it!'
Soundly sleeping on his plush, comfortable bed, Sam tossed and turned violently. He rolled from one side to the other, desperately pressing his hands over his ears as low, pained groans escaped his mouth.
"Argh... Who is whispering in my ear?" he mumbled groggily.
As the minutes dragged on, the voices only grew louder. A deep frown etched itself onto his sweating face. Suddenly, he shot bolt upright in the bed, gasping for air.
"Who is doing this?!" he demanded, whipping his head left and right, searching the empty, dark shadows of his lavish room.
"What in the world was that?" he whispered under his breath, forcefully massaging his throbbing temples.
Finding no clues in the silent room, he cautiously lay back down against the pillows. But it didn't take long for the phenomenon to return. This time, his eyes squinted in the dark, and a terrifying realization clicked in his mind.
'Don't tell me I can actually hear...'
An ominous, suffocating foreboding filled his chest. Steeling his nerves, Sam decided to test his terrifying theory. He closed his eyes, dropped his mental defenses, and actively focused on his hearing.
Instantly, his frown deepened as a floodgate burst open inside his mind.
'Die! Everyone who wronged me should die!'
'Oh, thank the heavens, I'm saved!'
'Please, God! Just let me die!'
Panting heavily, Sam's eyes snapped open. He violently severed his concentration to block out the overwhelming, overlapping cacophony of curses, prayers, and desperate pleas.
'Do I really have to live with this noise all the time?' he thought, horrified.
He stared blankly into the dark void of the ceiling, completely unable to comprehend the sheer scale of what was happening to him.
By binding his soul to the Origin Fire, he had essentially become a living conduit for the Fire God's domain. He was actively intercepting the raw, unfiltered prayers and dark desires of the desperate masses.
"There has to be some way to block it out..." he muttered.
Creak! As he frantically searched through his thoughts for a solution, the heavy wooden door swung open. The head butler stood in the threshold, staring at him with cold, emotionless eyes.
"Follow me."
"Okay." Sam immediately rolled out of bed, his bare feet hitting the cold stone floor.
Deep suspicion rose in his heart as he followed the sharply dressed man through the winding, torch-lit corridors. His paranoia was instantly validated when the butler spoke without even glancing back over his shoulder.
"Your official training begins right here, right now. It would be highly beneficial for you to learn properly—unless, of course, you wish to be easily assassinated within the week."
Gulp. Swallowing the massive lump of anxiety in his throat, Sam hummed in acknowledgment and followed carefully.
A few minutes later, the butler pushed open a set of heavy iron double doors. Sam stepped onto an elevated balcony and stared dumbly at the brutal scenario unfolding below.
It was a massive, subterranean training arena. Roughly seventy to eighty boys, all around his age, were engaged in grueling physical and magical combat drills. Heavily armed, masked soldiers paced between the ranks, inspecting their forms with merciless scrutiny.
Crack!
A leather whip violently split the air, striking the bare back of a struggling trainee. The boy screamed, instantly thrown into a world of agonizing pain as he collapsed to the dirt floor.
Hiss! Sam sucked in a sharp breath of cold air, his imagination running wild as he pictured himself on the receiving end of that whip in the very near future.
"This is your new training area," the butler spoke coldly, completely unfazed by the brutal violence below.
"Yes, Sir."
"Go down and integrate yourself. It would be best if you adapt early."
'The words might carry a sliver of practical advice, but his tone is absolute ice,' Sam thought.
Shaking his head to clear his nerves, he descended the stone stairs and strode onto the training grounds. He was immediately intercepted by a masked guard.
"State your purpose," the guard barked.
Sam blinked twice, adjusting to the hostility. "I'm the new Manager trainee."
The guard pointed a heavily gauntleted finger toward the far right corner of the cavernous hall. "That is your designated sector. Move."
"Hmm." Nodding, Sam marched toward the isolated corner. Eight other young boys were currently training there, sweating profusely under the watchful eyes of two terrifyingly scarred instructors.
"Sir!" Sam called out, standing at attention.
One of the instructors turned to him, his eyes dead and unfeeling. "Strip down to your undergarments and join the formation immediately."
Sam hesitated for a split second, feeling a flush of embarrassment, but he quickly realized restrictive clothing would only catch fire or hinder his movements.
Stripping off his tidy clothes until only a single piece of fabric remained, he stood shivering slightly in the damp, underground air, waiting for further instructions.
"What the hell are you waiting for?!" the instructor roared. "Look at what they are doing and copy them!"