Extra's Sign In System: The Hero's an Idiot!

[A/N: WARNING! Mature and Gore Content is present in the next Chapter. Caution is advised!]

---

Chapter 101: The Hall of History

Bram walked alone. The heavy steel doors sealed shut behind him with a resounding thud. The sound of his friends fighting the Miasma monsters outside faded into total silence.

He was completely isolated. The corridor was massive. The ceiling stretched so high it vanished into the dark.

He held up a glowing mana crystal to light his path. His heavy boots echoed loudly against the stone floor.

Colossal stone pillars lined the hall. Bram stepped closer to examine them. The pillars were covered in ancient and vibrant murals. The paintings told a story that modern history had entirely forgotten.

He saw towering Giants with kind eyes. They were shaking hands with ancient humans. The next murals showed them fighting side by side.

Humans and Giants stood united against terrifying waves of Miasma monsters. They bled together. They died together to protect this world.

Bram felt a deep ache in his chest.

’These magnificent protectors had given their lives for humanity. Yet they were completely forgotten by time.’

He walked deeper into the tomb. He stepped through a massive stone archway into the next chamber.

Suddenly the air turned freezing cold. The glowing mana crystal flickered and died. The world spun violently. Bram felt a crushing weight hit the back of his head.

Everything went black.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Bram opened his eyes. His vision was blurry. A sharp agonizing pain flared in his wrists. He tried to move but heavy iron chains bound his arms to a damp stone wall. He was stripped to his waist. The air smelled of rotting blood and rust.

’What...? Where...is this?’

His mind was a foggy mess. He could not remember how he got here.

Heavy iron doors creaked open. Three figures stepped into the dimly lit cell. They wore the dark crimson robes of the Church of the Eternal Eclipse.

"Awake at last," the lead Cultist sneered. He held a barbed whip dripping with corrosive poison.

"Let us skip the pleasantries. We know you are part of Strike Team Zero. Tell us the security routes for Bastion Seven. Give us the blueprints for the Miasma Tower."

Bram swallowed hard. His throat felt like sandpaper.

"I will never tell you anything."

The Cultist laughed. The whip cracked.

Agony exploded across Bram’s chest. The barbed spikes tore through his skin. The corrosive poison burned directly into his nerves.

"ARRGHHH!"

Bram screamed loudly. He was a giant in size but he was still just a teenager. The pain was blinding and absolute.

"Again," the Cultist ordered.

"ARRGHHH!"

The whip struck a second time. Then a third. Blood pooled on the cold stone floor.

They did not stop. They kept going like madmen. They were madmen. His mind was flickering on and off like a light bulb. Everything was washed away except for the sense of pain.

He blacked out and fainted.

"Haha! Look at this fella! He fainted on us! Hey, bring in the healer. We cannot let him faint unless he tells us about the Blueprints!"

When Bram passed out from the pain they used twisted healing magic to force him awake.They mended his flesh just to tear it apart again. The cycle of torment was endless.

Even during this torture, Bram held onto hope. He knew his Squad members will come for his help and rescue him. He just had to hold on.

’Just for a few more days! I know they will come! I will keep my mouth shut even if they kill me!’

He had made a promise to himself. He was not going to give up on his mates. The Blueprint was the future to save Humanity. It was finally a chance for the comeback. He cannot just lay waste to the efforts of his Ancestors who had sacrificed their life for this great cause.

Days turned into weeks. Bram lost track of the hours.

’Why are they not here yet? Why have they not come to find me? Why do I have to suffer like this?’

His mind was getting brutally tempered and he was losing his faith. The seed of doubt had begun to take root in his heart. After weeks of torture, he just sat their taking hits. He was hungry for food. He was thirsty for water.

His throat was dry, his stomach churned as the acid in his stomach began doing it’s things. The man who once stood tall was now all skin and bones. He had lost his muscles, but he still kept his faith. He did not reveal a single thing.

His body became a ruined canvas of scars and fresh wounds. He cried in the dark when he was left alone. He was so incredibly cold. He missed his parents. He missed the warm smell of baking bread at the Stonehelm Ovens.

He was tied in chains completely naked. The cold ate through his skin. Any normal man would have had died if he did not have the vitality of Bram. To make it worse they poured, cold salt water on him to wake him up. The salt did wonders to his wounds.

Everyday was a new method of torture. Sometimes it was boiling water, which was poured to slowly pain him, the other time it was boiling oil. They deliberately avoided area which would kill him. They mocked his tenacity for survival. They laughed at him.

They pulled his nails out, one by one, slowly savoring on the pain. His screams were a delicacy to these human faced Monsters. But Bram endured. He did not give in.

And neither did these maniacs. They started breaking his fingers and healing them. Break a bone and heal it back. They took turns to torment the boy. Every joint in his body was dislocated and healed back again and again just to extract information from him.

But Bram endured. His wounds were left open. He could not move. This pissed them off even more. They moved to his face. The head specifically.

They plucked out all the hair he had, making him bald. But that was just the beginning. A Cultist came in the room and asked, "Has he not spoken a single word yet?"

"No, Sire!"

"Pass me the scalpel! I shall bestow the Grace of the Eclipse upon this child!" the superior said as he took the scalpel in his hand and moved it towards his eye.

In that moment, Bram felt it for the first time since all the torture began. Fear! Fear of losing the sight! Fear of becoming a cripple! The scalpel closed in on his eye, his mind was running in overdrive thinking of ways to escape from this predicament, but he couldn’t do anything!

All his skills were not working. His mana core felt empty. He felt powerless. The scalpel closed in and the Cultist pushed it in without any precision whatsoever.

"ARRRRRRGGGHHHH!"

He carved his eye out. The blood gushed from his eye socket like a flood! But the Cultist did not stop there. He moved the scalpel to the other eye and removed it as well.

Bram screamed his lungs out. The pain was so immense that he could not even think of anything else. All his plans and efforts were useless. He was powerless all over again. And now he has lost his sight as well. A Blind man through and through!

"This shall make him understand the gravity of the situation he is in. Do not let him die. Make the healer be on standby. He is losing a lot of blood." The cultist said as he ignored the pained boy and departed from the cell.

Another week of torture had passed. Bram had given up on waiting for help. He had given up on escaping either. But he did not betray his friends.

He remembered his Father’s words, "Being a Baker does not make me someone who can hunt the Monsters beyond the Walls, but I can still help in my own way. Your grandfather was a great hunter, but he passed away protecting the walls. I also wanted to be of service, but I could not awaken, but you have awakened. You have a duty. A duty to protect Humanity from the Fall. My son! Do whatever it takes to protect the Humanity! If there comes a day when you have to choose between your parents and Humanity, gladly abandon us. Every man under the Lord Commander lives by these words and so shall you!"

These words echoed in his heart as he prepared for another day of torture. He was ready to give his life here. He was not afraid anymore. He was just full of regrets.

They brought in iron blades heated until they glowed white. They pressed the searing metal against his ribs. The smell of his own burning flesh made him physically sick.

"Speak," the Cultist hissed in his ear.

"Give us the codes. We will let you go home to your bakery. We will stop the pain."

Bram kept his eyes firmly shut. He trembled violently against the chains. The pain was slowly breaking his mind. But then he saw their faces in the dark.

He saw Lord Commander Goldmane trusting them with the future of humanity. He saw Natalie smiling at him sweetly in the flour-dusted kitchen. He felt Aegon’s firm hand on his shoulder calling him a brother. He saw Draven leading them forward against the dark.

They were his family. They were the absolute hope of Bastion Seven.

Bram opened his eyes. His body was shattered but his spirit burned like a roaring fire. He looked directly at the Cultist.

"You can break my bones," Bram whispered. His voice was hoarse and broken.

"But I am the shield of Strike Team Zero. I will never break my honor."

The Cultist’s face twisted in pure rage. He realized the giant boy would never surrender.

"Then die," the Cultist snarled. He drew a jagged dark blade and plunged it directly into Bram’s heart.

A terrifying coldness spread through Bram’s chest. He gasped for air. The darkness swallowed him completely. He closed his eyes and accepted his death with a peaceful heart. He had kept his family safe.

"Mother. Father. Natalie. I am sorry..."

.

.

.

.

.

Bram gasped loudly. His eyes snapped open.

He stumbled forward and fell hard to his knees. He grabbed his chest wildly. There was no blood. There were no scars. He was not in a damp cell. He was kneeling on the pristine stone floor of the giant chamber.

The illusion shattered completely. The memories of the Warlord Tomb rushed back into his mind. He realized he had just endured a full month of agonizing psychological torture in mere seconds.

He started to hyperventilate. The phantom pains of the whip and the fire still burned in his mind.

Suddenly a warm golden light cascaded from the vaulted ceiling. It washed over his trembling body. The light was pure and gentle.

The phantom pains instantly vanished. The golden energy flowed into his mind and purified his exhausted soul. It brought him absolute peace and clarity.

The deep ancient voice echoed in his soul once more.

"Ask not for glory, but for the heavy burden of the shield."

Bram looked up at the towering statues in the chamber. Tears streamed down his face.

He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and stood up tall. He had proven his honor. He had earned the second verse.

He gripped his heavy shield and walked forward. The final trial awaited him.