Edclet whimpered, faint sobs leaking out as his body shivered underneath the thin blanket, an unbearable display that crept an unsettling chill in Oscar's back. A Knight Exalt carried years of experience behind them, and Edclet certainly went through more during his post as a captain during the long war, making the sight of his broken, fearful figure much more concerning. Oscar pulled the blanket off Edclet and was greeted by more screams from the blubbering prisoner, who grasped his own head and shook violently.

"Enough!" Oscar separated Edclet's hands from causing further damage to his own body, keeping them firmly in his grip. Letting go and rushing his hands through the gap, he clenched hard on Edclet's head and forced the madman to stare directly into his gaze. "Look at me! Are you not a soldier? Are you not an Exalt of the Pavilion? Steel yourself, and look past the pain."

Edclet's eyes rolled over to the back of their sockets, showing only the bloodshot, veiny white blanks to Oscar. His tears dripped uncontrollably, and his mouth began to foam, dripping a sloppy mess on the bed sheets and Oscar's hands. With no other choice, Oscar released the unconscious Edclet from his hold, gnashing his teeth. He couldn't contain it any longer and swung a wild fist into the wall, rubble tumbling down from the spreading cracks. After a few moments, Oscar retracted his hand, a clear imprint of his clenched fist embedded into the wall. His breathing slowly recovered, and he sighed.

The Rurin Gaols somehow broke this man in a mere year of imprisonment, a feat surpassing the Abyss Prison, where a prisoner like John, a simple Elite Exalt, could endure and maintain his sanity for decades. Oscar realized there was far more to this prison than being a simple place to hold captured enemies. Something strange and insidious lurked and preyed on them within these walls, and he had to find out before Emily and Fred suffered the same fate.

He turned to leave, hoping to gather more information from someone who wasn't crazy, but he stopped. Several other prisoners in similar white outfits entered the cell room, all throwing him stern gazes. One of them was a short man, barely five feet and a half tall, sporting a short buzzcut, a pair of narrow, slanted eyes, and long arms. The second was a large muscular man, towering over the short man, taller than Oscar's real height, who cracked his knuckles; his messy blond hair was tied back, his mustache was long, and his wide blue eyes shone brightly atop his burly face. The last and third man looked ordinary compared to the other two, a person of regular height and no discerning features. His short brown hair and blue eyes paired well with the blank expression on his face.

"Oh? Is this one of the newcomers? Nice to meet you. I am Alec Hunt." The brown-haired man smiled and waved his hand to express his welcome, sounding humble and open-minded.

"Ah, that Edclet is sobbing a mess again. He's too weak. What a pity." The large, muscular man spoke in a rough, deep tone, crossing his arms as his muscles flexed and expanded. He extended out his gargantuan palm while stroking his mustache. "Did you make that dent in the wall? It'll be good to have you on our side. I am Louis Cutler. Nice to meet you. The short one is Rolan Dule. He can't talk." The short one, Rolan, also approached and held out his hand, completely silent while clearly studying Oscar.

Three hands were out before him, and Oscar returned their greetings, shaking each of them, and said, "I am Felix Gilles. And he…." Oscar turned to Edclet. "He tried to take his anger out on me but lost and started to break down into this mess."

"Pathetic. He's only been here for a year. I've been here for four years along with Rolan." Louis clapped Rolan's shoulder, laughing heartily. "The weak-hearted will become like Edclet, but to fall in a year is an embarrassment."

"Now, now. It's not Edclet's fault. Every person has their limit. What's at fault is what drives them to that point." Alec lightly rebuked Louis's words, but not to the point of actively scolding him, a neutral stance.

"And what is driving them to this state?" Oscar pointed at the trembling Edclet, still clearly trapped within his own trauma. "I overheard an officer outside mention a reeducation. Is that part of it?"

Louis stroked his beard and said, "Explaining it in words isn't enough. You will have to experience the full set for yourself to understand. Solidify your willpower and endure, then come back here."

"As a newcomer, you'll be called up soon." Alec warmly patted Oscar on the shoulder. "I pray you won't break like Edclet and…Davy."

"What happened to Davy?" Oscar saw the grim faces of the others and was startled by the loud sobs from Edclet.

"He's in isolation, his mind broken beyond repair." Louis brought his voice down to a low growl as he sat on his bed, the springs creaking under the weight of his massive frame.

"Shut up! You lowly filth!" Near the door stood a guard clad in black armor, bearing the symbol of a black-shelled turtle. Alec and Rolan nervously backed off, raising their hands in surrender. The guard noticed the wreckage Oscar had done to the wall but scoffed and pointed his spear at him. "You're the new one. Follow me."

Oscar held in the urge to ask a question, knowing the proper ways to behave in prison, and followed the guard outside, but not before he caught a glimpse of his fellow prisoners clenching their fists at him as if to say, endure. His bare feet barely made a sound while the heavy greaves of the guard stomped on the floor, his spear pounding along with them, and all the clamors and ruckuses in the other cells quieted to silence, many huddling away from the approaching steps.

When the guard reached another cell, all the inmates raised their hands and backed away, pale-faced and in a cold sweat. He called for another newcomer and latched chains to link Oscar to the other, pulling them along. Fred was called up and added to the ever-growing chain of prisoners, and Oscar blinked several times, asking if he knew, to which Fred blinked no. The guard was not kind in his handling, rushing them down a long corridor of faintly lit lamps, not the light crystals Exalts favored. Their shadows stretched as the lamps grew dimmer the further they traveled down until they stopped before a large, rusted door.

Oscar sniffed and grimaced. The foul scent of iron came not just from the rust but something far sinister, an overwhelming amount of blood. Looking down, he noticed clumps of dried blood resting in the cracks between the bricks.

"I have the newcomers. Ready for the baptism." The guard's chilling voice carried a slight chuckle at the end.

The spindle on the door rotated and clicked into place, and the rusted, heavy door scraped against the ground with an ear-piercing noise. Forced to comply, Oscar went inside and twitched his eyebrow, containing the disgust he felt from the semi-wet blood latching onto the bottom of his bare feet.

"Line up!" Several others were inside, wearing strange masks like coconuts on their heads with three holes, two for the eyes and one of similar size near the mouth. Oscar and the others were freed from their chains except for the collar inhibiting their Ein. Ordered to raise his hands, Oscar did as instructed and found new chains had extended from the ceiling, and his body was hoisted up, his feet dangling down, barely an inch away from touching the ground. The door scraped back and shut closed in a thunderous slam, reverberating through the chains.

Suddenly, light filled the room, and Oscar closed his eyes, unable to handle the influx of brightness. Slowly, he cracked his eyes open, blinking several times to adjust, and widened them to the greatest extent, shocked at the table full of tools and instruments of torture.

"What the hell is this?" One of the prisoners shouted, struggling against the chains, but his efforts were futile.

"Your Ein is restricted, so there is no enduring the pain. Pain is good." One of the oddly masked men lifted a hook, flailing it out, and hummed over to the prisoner, who shouted, now shaking and silent. Oscar watched as the torturer used Ein to clamp the prisoner's lips together and pull them. To his horror, he stuck the hook from the bottom of the lips to the top while the muffled screams whimpered out.

"Now then. We have a full course of delight waiting for you all. But first, repeat after me. I hate the Brilliant Drake Empire. I hate the Blue Ocean Pavilion." The torturer sighed when no one responded. He waved over the others, and they all stood before each prisoner with horrific tools in their hands. Oscar gritted his teeth and told himself to endure.

'Switch. I don't feel pain.' Demon whispered from within.

'No. I need to understand every step of the way. Besides, I can't let Fred suffer alone.' Oscar clenched his fists and endured the torture. He grunted and strained his voice but never screamed or broke. They stabbed him, burned him, whipped him, and did all manners of torture, but Oscar refused to speak the words.

"It is the Pavilion and the Empire that has abandoned you. You fought for them, only to be sent down here. This pain is not from us. It is from the incompetency of them." The torturer pointed at the two flags, one with the golden trident and the other with a dragon. "Speak the words. Be on the right path, and the pain will eventually disappear."

Some cried out for mercy only for their lips to be hooked. Oscar didn't relent. After what seemed to be two hours, according to Demon's count, the torturers finally stopped and packed up their weapons. A refreshing Ein enveloped him and the other prisoners, whose wounds soon sealed shut and healed to the fullest. The torturers wiped their blood and retreated to the sidelines, standing at attention.

It was very odd. Oscar couldn't understand their motive for healing them. Before he could try to think about it, a numbness itched in the corner of his mind, like a tumultuous ocean forced into a serene calm, all the waves of his thoughts dying down. Oscar tried hard to fight off this invasive force. But it was too powerful, and he could no longer think, only lost in the pleasurable peace, a comforting tug on his heart. His mouth opened without his doing and spoke, "I hate the Blue Ocean Pavilion. I hate the Brilliant Drake Empire."

Everyone also said it. Snapping out of it, Oscar was horrified, his lungs choking, and stared blankly ahead. He finally noticed the beautiful woman floating above. Her signature white hair was tied back, her wide ruby-red eyes shone brightly, and her enticing red dress fluttered along, revealing parts of her legs. Her face had no expression but carried a seductive beauty within those red lips and long eyelashes.

'Maia Claude….' Oscar remembered her. Sensing her power, he frowned. She was a Marshal Exalt.