Chapter 151: Suppression And Suffering

The wolves hauled Kane back through the stairwell, his feet scraping against concrete as they descended into the bowels of the facility.

The chemical stench hit him first—acrid compounds that burned his nostrils and made his eyes water.

Then came the ozone, sharp and electric, like lightning trapped in glass.

Underneath it all lurked something worse: the metallic tang of terror, soaked into every surface.

They dragged him into the same laboratory he’d escaped from, past the twisted forms floating in their suspension pods.

Kane tried not to look at the bird spirit with its clipped wings or the salamander with tubes snaking through its torso.

The restraint table waited in the center of the room—reinforced steel with thick leather straps designed for beings far stronger than humans.

Kane fought as they forced him down, but exhaustion made his struggles weak and uncoordinated.

The straps bit into his wrists and ankles, leather creaking as the guards cinched them tight.

A low hum filled the air, and suddenly Kane’s spirit energy felt... muffled. Choked. Like trying to breathe through wet cotton.

"Suppression field," Elias observed, circling the table. "Can’t have you shifting unexpectedly during the procedure."

Kane forced a grin despite the crushing weight in his chest.

"What’s the matter, wolf boy? Afraid of a little fox?"

The words came out breathless, lacking their usual bite.

Elias smiled, all teeth and malice.

"I intend to discover the precise limits of fox spirit physiology."

"Go to hell," Kane spat, yanking against the restraints.

A technician approached with a syringe filled with luminescent liquid that pulsed like a trapped heartbeat.

Kane’s eyes widened. The same sickly glow he’d seen coursing through the captive spirits.

"Wait—"

The needle pierced his arm before he could finish the protest.

Fire exploded through his veins.

Kane’s back arched off the table as molten agony raced from the injection site, spreading like liquid fire through his circulatory system.

His spirit energy writhed, twisting into unnatural shapes as the compound wrapped around it like barbed wire.

His fox ears flickered in and out, fragile illusions crumbling under the serum’s pressure.

His tail materialized for a split second before vanishing in a burst of silver sparks that left him gasping.

"Fascinating," Elias murmured, making notes on a tablet.

"The binding agent creates temporal displacement in spirit manifestation. Note the energy fragmentation at—"

Kane couldn’t hear the rest over his own strangled scream.

The compound burned through him, each heartbeat spreading the corruption deeper.

His connection to his fox spirit felt like it was being shredded from the inside out.

The burning subsided to a dull throb, leaving Kane’s spirit energy raw and fractured.

Elias gestured to another technician, who approached with metallic cuffs that hummed with electric potential.

"Phase two," Elias announced, snapping the cuffs around Kane’s wrists. "Electro-resonance amplification. Every sensation becomes... enhanced."

The moment the cuffs activated, Kane’s world exploded into white-hot agony.

What should have been a minor electrical pulse felt like molten metal poured directly onto his nervous system.

His muscles seized, tendons straining against the restraints as his body convulsed involuntarily.

The pain didn’t just hurt—it consumed, devouring rational thought and replacing it with pure, animalistic suffering.

Kane bit down on his tongue until he tasted iron, blood filling his mouth as he fought to contain the sounds clawing up his throat.

"Impressive pain tolerance," Elias observed, increasing the voltage. "Most subjects are screaming by now."

Kane’s vision flickered between silver and black, his fox spirit recoiling deeper into whatever protective shell it could find.

The cuffs amplified everything—the leather cutting into his wrists felt like razor wire, and the cold table felt like a glacier against his spine.

But he wouldn’t give Elias the satisfaction.

Kane locked his jaw, channeling every ounce of stubborn defiance into silent endurance.

His body writhed, but his lips stayed sealed.

Through the haze of electric torment, one thought burned brighter than the pain coursing through Kane’s veins:

Where are you, Cyrus?

He pictured obsidian wings cutting through the night sky, crimson fire reducing this nightmare facility to ash and memory.

The image gave him strength to endure another surge of voltage that made his spine arch off the table.

But terror crept in alongside hope—what if they captured Cyrus too?

What if Kane’s rescue came at the cost of watching the last dragon strapped to a similar table, subjected to the same horrific experiments?

The thought of Elias’s claws tearing into Cyrus, of watching that proud spirit broken and twisted like the creatures in the pods, made Kane’s stomach clench with something worse than physical agony.

Better me than him.

"Do you think your dragon will make it in time?" Elias’s voice cut through Kane’s fevered thoughts, dripping with mock concern.

Kane forced his eyes open, meeting Elias’s amber gaze with every ounce of defiance he could muster.

"He’ll come," Kane rasped, voice hoarse from suppressed screams.

"And when he does, you’re going to wish you’d never crawled out of whatever hole spawned you."

Elias’s smile widened, revealing elongated canines.

"I’m counting on it."

Elias gestured toward a wall-mounted screen that flickered to life, displaying grainy surveillance footage from throughout the facility.

Kane’s heart plummeted as images flashed across the monitor—spirits he’d freed being systematically recaptured.

The deer spirit, cornered in a maintenance corridor, fell to tranquilizer darts.

Guards in riot gear dragged the owl spirit from an air vent, her wings tangled in nets.

Most devastating was the mouse spirit—barely more than a child—sobbing as containment cuffs locked around his tiny wrists.

"Your heroic rescue," Elias said, voice dripping mockery. "Twelve spirits freed. Twelve spirits recaptured within the hour."

Kane’s throat constricted, watching the mouse spirit’s terrified face disappear behind a closing cell door.

"The only difference is that now they’re classified as ’high-risk specimens.’"

Elias continued, advancing the footage.

"Enhanced restraints. Solitary confinement. Double the sedation protocols."

The screen showed spirits being dragged into isolation chambers—smaller, darker cells with reinforced walls.

Kane’s defiance crumbled, replaced by crushing guilt that made his chest feel hollow.

Every spirit he’d tried to save was now suffering worse because of his interference.

"Did you make things better, little fox?" Elias whispered, leaning close enough that Kane could smell predator musk.

"Or did you just teach them what happens when hope dies twice?"