The Recall Trials
Chapter 71: The Devil’s Breath

Chapter 71: The Devil’s Breath

The door creaked shut behind me.

Silence.

At last.

For a moment, the chaos outside was nothing more than a muffled hum behind a concrete wall.

I walked to the sink and stared at the rusted faucet, the chipped porcelain, the tiny puddle of red water that refused to drain.

Blood dripped from my fingertips, leaving small crimson prints as I walked toward the mirror.

Then I looked up.

The mirror greeted me like a stranger.

And the man staring back... wasn’t me.

I stood in front of it.

And for a long moment...

I didn’t move.

Didn’t even blink.

The boy in the reflection stared back at me....blood stained messy dark hair, split lip, bruises blooming purple down one side of his face. Shirt was half-ripped, smeared with blood.

I tilted my head slightly. So did he.

But I didn’t know him.

Not really.

Is this what they meant?

Vincent Aston. Son of Reynold Aston. Sector A’s golden boy.

They kept saying it like it was supposed to mean something.

Like I was supposed to feel shame. Or guilt.

But all I felt... was nothing.

No grief.

No rage.

Not even regret.

I didn’t remember who I used to be.

I didn’t remember being anyone.

My knuckles cracked as I leaned forward and pressed my palms flat on the sink. My breath fogged the mirror.

I whispered to my reflection, "Am I really him?"

Was it always like this?

Was I born this way?

No answer.

Just a dead-eyed monster looking back.

I reached out and pressed a blood-slicked hand to the mirror. The glass was cool, almost grounding. Like maybe it could hold me still.

And then.....

The sound hit.

A piercing, high-pitched rings

Like metal grinding against bone.

My body jolted. I stumbled back from the sink, hitting the wall.

The sound was inside me.

In my skull.

In my teeth.

In my spine.

"Ah...fuck." I hissed, pressing both palms to my ears.

My knees buckled. I slid to the floor.

It’s happening again...

The room spun.

The lights flickered.

And for a breath of a moment.....Blurry flashbacks.

The lights snapped back on. I was hunched over, sweat running down my spine, my fists were clenched.

I blinked fast.

Tried to steady my breath.

But the room wasn’t spinning anymore.

It was still.

Like everything inside me had been briefly... awakened. Then ripped away again.

I pushed myself up, hands trembling as I looked back into the mirror.

That same boy stared at me.

But now his lip curled....just slightly.

Like he enjoyed what he’d become.

My voice came out low. Detached. I wasn’t even sure if I was talking to myself anymore or to the part of me they rewired.

"They did something to me."

I exhaled.

"They probably broke something inside."

My fingers twitched at my side.... I didn’t fight it.

Because maybe I wasn’t supposed to heal.

Maybe I wasn’t meant to remember.

Maybe this was exactly who old me have always wanted to be.

I wiped my face with my sleeve and turned toward the door.

Still silent.

Still numb.

Because the Vincent they thought they knew... was never coming back.

"You have ten minutes remaining. Repeat—ten minutes remaining before the next game begins."

The announcement echoed through the bloodstained restroom.

As I walked out, the room instantly erupted into chaos. Some contestants bolted for the restroom, faces pale with fear. Bodies scrambled.

Contestants shoved past one another, racing to the restroom, washing their faces, fixing torn clothes, whispering frantic prayers to whatever god still listened.

Some cried.

Some stared blankly at the walls like ghosts in human skin.

I didn’t move.

I just stood in the corner, silent, watching them like a ghost watching the living.

They avoided me like I carried the plague. didn’t expect them to.

Even Jojo and Zaara didn’t approach.

They stood with the others now. All of them keeping distance.

Let them.

Ten minutes passed by.

And then they came.

The masked men.

Their boots hit the floor in unison, like a military march. No words.. Just cold commands.

One of them slammed the butt of his baton into the ground.

"Line up. Now."

We moved.

One straight line.

The hallway was pitch-dark. The silence was eerie, broken only by our shuffled footsteps and the faint buzz of overhead lights.

And then...

They led us into the next room.

We stepped inside...

And everything changed.

The new arena.

We were in a massive, dark, metallic dome, like the inside of some futuristic coliseum. No windows. No exits. No obvious cameras. Just walls that seemed to breathe.

It was silent...too silent.

The floor beneath us was black and smooth like obsidian, and above us, something faintly hummed. Machines. Dozens of them. Unfamiliar, high-tech, and definitely dangerous.

The masked men filed out without a word.

We were alone now.

I stood in front.

Alone.

I could feel the stares drilling into my back. No one wanted to stand near me. Not after what I’d done.

Let them stay back. I didn’t need any of them.

"Welcome to the next game, contestants."

The voice crackled to life above us.

"This game... is about instinct.

Trust your gut, because in this room....

It may be the only thing that saves you."

We all stared ahead....at nothing. Until the ground trembled.

A low rumble. Like something ancient waking beneath us.

And then, the floor cracked open.

Right in front of me.

Something was coming.

The tiles didn’t just split..:they folded, peeled back like paper under heat, revealing something pulsing beneath. It hissed. It growled. It bled light.

And then it rose.

"The Devil’s Breath," Theo whispered beside me.

We stepped back instinctively, looking amused.

What rose from beneath...

Was insane.

It as alive. Liquid flame, thick as blood, surged upwards. It sloshed and twisted, glowing orange-red, like molten gold set on fire. Like the Earth itself was bleeding rage.

The lava-like substance burbled and popped Sweat pooled instantly at our brows, necks, backs. The temperature was climbing fast.

t moved like it had a mind of its own, slithering forward, scanning us, choosing its prey.

"It’s beautiful," I gasped.

"It’s death," Jojo muttered.

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