The Poet's System
Chapter 79: Iron Maiden

Chapter 79: Iron Maiden

There was a problem.

Asaemon’s palm was imprinted on Daylan’s chest, bruising a perfect portrait of his hand. Several ribs were broken, and his internal organs bled freely—as if even unconscious, his body refused to stop bleeding from his mouth and nose.

The sudden turn of events prompted Blind and Medora to appear. Worried for Daylan’s well-being, Medora moved to heal him immediately—but Blind stopped her.

’’He has to learn to survive on his own in situations like this.’’

The worry in her eyes spoke volumes, but Blind held firm in his decision—until Asaemon spoke up.

’’Don’t you think healing him just a little would be fine? It is his first time, after all.’’

Blind glanced at Asaemon, then finally shook his head.

"Alright, if you say so. But you help him—not her."

Asaemon gave a firm nod, then walked over and told Medora to step away from Daylan’s body.

"Why did you hit him that hard?" Medora asked, visibly upset.

"I didn’t," Asaemon replied. "That was the lightest push I could manage."

There was a tenderness in his eyes—like that of an innocent child. Medora sighed, realizing that even if Asaemon had struck him, there had been no intent to harm. And once again, he had no reason to lie.

Asaemon extended a hand toward Daylan’s body.

"There wasn’t a hint of fear in his eyes. Not even an ounce."

"Yes, because his ability blocks out pain once it’s activated."

"That’s not what I meant." He tilted his head slightly toward Medora.

"Master once told me, ’to become the strongest, you must first be the weakest—feel pain, love it or fear it—and then build yourself around whatever you choose. However, it takes a strong mind to do both."

He suddenly dropped his hand.

"But he accepted it without even thinking about what kind of pain it was."

He turned to Medora again.

"Whether it’s emotional, physical, or mental—he just takes it. But what you fear shapes you, and what you love builds you... and I think he’s lost between the two."

Medora locked eyes with him, confused. It took her a moment before she finally spoke.

"Then teach him."

She turned away and gently carried Daylan to his room.

It had been Daylan’s fall alone. The others returned to their training, but Asaemon checked on him from time to time. Still, he never fully healed him—he mended the ribs but left the rest for Daylan to face on his own.

He remained unconscious for about five hours, and by then, night had already fallen.

Lying on the floor, he struggled to sit up or even stand. Every movement sent sharp pain through his gut.

He remained still, simply watching the forest scenery through the massive glass window opposite his bed.

He was told to get his meal on his own by activating Dark Spiral, but in his condition, that would be like walking barefoot on a volcano. So instead, he chose to bury his hunger and lose himself in the view.

A few more hours passed, and he began to grow restless with his situation. He had a father to save and a destiny to climb—and lying down when anyone in his place would be pushing through the pain felt wrong. Or maybe, he was simply just hungry.

He began slowly pushing through the pain, gripping the sheet with his head bowed slightly as he inched toward the edge of the bed. Taking a deep breath and bracing himself, he dropped down onto the floor.

What followed was a crushing pain coursing through his chest, sharp agony surging through his head. He gritted his teeth and slammed his fist into the ground repeatedly, battling the urge to cry out loud.

He relaxed on the ground for a moment, letting the pain dull, then slowly began crawling out of the room.

Little by little, he made his way into the living room. He tilted his head to glance at the clock hanging just above the fireplace—it was around 11 p.m., three hours before training.

I need to be able to stand by then. At least.

He pressed his hands against his chest. His body trembled, and the pain only intensified—but he pressed on. His body felt unbearably heavy, as if twice its size.

Before he knew it, he was propped up by his waist, both hands and feet on the ground.

Reaching for the sofa, he used it to boost his momentum, pushing through the relentless burn in his chest—and finally stood upright.

His body was drenched in sweat as he looked down at himself and laughed softly at his achievement. Now that he was standing upright, the pain eased just a little, and he could move—if only a little.

Using the sofas and a few chairs to steady himself, he reached the dining table, grabbed a few fruits, and returned to sit on the sofa.

The moment he sat down, he sighed in relief—just as a voice interrupted from behind.

"I knew you’d be getting out," Blind said, taking a seat beside him.

"You really need to keep up, or this will take longer than it should... Want to kill some time?"

Daylan gave him a lazy glance.

"I’ve been meaning to ask you something."

"Go on."

"Is it true that the rumors about a single Vital’s presence being enough to suffocate everyone in the Royal Capital are real?"

"I wouldn’t know—I haven’t tried it. But right now, I’m suppressing it and have a few relics embedded in the forest to dull its effect a little. Even so, it still makes everything heavier than it should be."

Daylan nodded.

"So in your system form, it’s possible... Were you called ’Prophet’ before you were born in the church, or are you actually a priest?"

Blind laughed.

"No. Each of the Vital Five was born in the church, but I’m not a priest. I gave myself the title ’Blind Prophet’ because that’s the name of the system, and my imagination ability did seem prophetic to the church.

Plus, the name my mother gave me also meant ’prophet’... It was too obvious to be a coincidence, I guess."

Daylan kept nodding repeatedly.

"I want to ask you something. What will happen if you bring your father back to life and manage to kill your mother before she causes more harm?"

Daylan’s expression darkened as he stared at the ground. His mind spiraled through countless thoughts—this was a question he’d been avoiding.

"I don’t know..." he murmured.

Blind tapped him on the shoulder.

"Don’t worry, you’re not the only one."

Daylan tilted his head toward him.

"I’ve been alive for centuries, and if I said I knew what to do with myself at your age, I’d be lying. Back then, all I cared about was fulfilling my duties as a Vital—which was basically doing nothing."

Blind locked eyes with Daylan.

"But life gave me purpose over time; I understood it, and I accepted it. Don’t dwell too much on the future—it only makes you hesitant, and hesitation as a warrior means weakness.

Instead, find yourself in today and live for it. In this world, the easiest solution to your problems is strength."

Daylan glanced at him, most of the words drifting past as he dozed off.

"I never knew the Vital Five were immortal."

Blind narrowed his eyes slightly before smiling with a squint.

"No. We just outlive humans. But if someone stabbed me in the heart, I’d be dead."

He rose to his feet and gestured at Daylan.

"Follow me."

Daylan took a moment to steady himself, summoned his strength, and slowly rose to his feet, following Blind toward the training room.

The heart of each individual ignites under certain circumstances—love, loss, and fear.

But when that fire dims, their reactions become unpredictable, yet somehow inevitable.

Daylan’s favorite way to cope with his dulled heart was laziness—and one glance from Blind during their talk was enough to make that clear.

"You’re lazy, and I don’t blame you—sometimes that’s just how you cope with situations beyond your control. Sleep!"

Daylan stared directly into Blind’s eyes, his heart pounding loudly beneath his chest as the sleep that once filled his eyes vanished.

He didn’t know why, but he felt cared for—like his secrets were being laid bare before thousands.

"This training will be nothing if you keep seeing it as a story where the main character always gets his way."

Daylan swallowed nervously.

"You failed to kill your mother, gave up the second time—and now you want to save your father. What’s your end goal? To protect your sister? I don’t think so.

Isn’t it really about making yourself feel better? About trying to make amends with those who believed in you, but you failed? And what about all the people whose lives will be in danger because you let your mother live?"

Daylan clenched his fists, staring directly at Blind, his eyes betraying the fury burning in his chest.

"You want to bring back the man who started it all—just so he can carry the burden of the pain his return will unleash on the world."

Before he could say another word, Daylan yelled, "Shut up!" and charged toward Blind.

But before he could get close, something struck him—hard—and sent him crashing into the ground.

Blind’s eyes narrowed as he stepped closer.

"Before you act out in rage, remember this—you’re the weakest one in this house."

"Weakest one? What do you mean?!" he shouted, forcing himself to his feet. For some reason, the rage inside him began to build—rapidly—just like it had after Rhea used her sound aspect on him.

But the moment he stood upright, his system spoke.

[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]

Warning: The system has been broken.

Warning: The system has been broken.

Warning: The system has been broken.

Daylan didn’t pay any attention to the system as he began walking toward Blind.

[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]

Penalty: Iron Maiden Torture.

Daylan’s eyes widened in shock—

A dozen blades pierced through each of his joints, followed by three more driving straight through his heart, neck, and skull.

It happened so fast that he couldn’t even feel the pain from one strike before the next followed. And then—all the pain hit him at once. Overwhelmed and helpless, he could do nothing but scream.

As Daylan struggled to process what he was feeling, Blind stepped in front of him.

"Even Ranveer’s cat vision is stronger than you," he said with a smirk, backing off slightly.

In an instant, a transparent, cube-like metal formed around Daylan—then everything went dark.

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