Long Journey || ATEEZ

Timeless

"Oh dear," Cezanne said, as an electrifying jolt passed through San's body and he jerked awake. The pain began to ebb away as fast as it had come, leaving only aches and pains. "Did we go too far, too fast?"

Her voice was toneless, empty of any kind of sympathy as she regarded the demon with heartless eyes.

"Think so," Dylan grunted in reply.

"We can't have him passing out like that," Zinnia commented. "He won't feel the pain to its full extent, otherwise."

"Exactly," Cezanne said. "Dylan," she said, turning to the other pirate. Her voice was scathing, disappointed, almost. "Try and control yourself this time, will you? It seems our...hostage was a bit weaker than we expected."

Despite the pain that still incessantly beat at his skin, despite the immobilising fear that pulsed through his veins at even the thought of having to experience that again, San growled.

"Weak? Who are you calling weak, you coward?" he spat. "You're the one who couldn't beat our measly crew and had to resort to a cheap trick like this. You, the so-called Terror of the Seven Seas – against us, just a weak bunch of rookie pirates."

"Shut the fuck up," Cezanne growled. "Unless you're going to give any useful input, I don't want to hear anything else coming out of that damned trap of yours."

"And what's going to stop me?" San grinned.

Cezanne nodded at Dylan, who turned back from staring attentively at his captain back to the demon. He gripped San's shoulders once more, and this time, San felt his body bracing itself automatically; it knew what was coming next.

Somewhere in front of him, Zinnia laughed.

Then the pain came – again; a raging fire forcing its way through San's veins. His entire body was on fire; electricity coursing through each individual cell; needles piercing every inch of his flesh. Everything in his body was being ripped apart, atom by atom, then put together again, in a mismatched jumble of shattered mess. His head felt like it was about to burst.

He vaguely registered his mouth opening, something ripping out from his very core. He faintly heard a roar, so raw and animalistic, it took a second for him to realise it was coming from himself.

And then, the pain was gone, like a whisper in the wind.

San slumped, trembling.

"So?" Cezanne said, approaching the demon. "You feeling ready to talk now?"

"No," San coughed, half-expecting blood to spill out of his mouth. Nothing. His voice was haggard, insides constricting and squirming as he fought to stop himself from throwing up. "I told you – I'm not giving you what you want."

"Have it your way then," Cezanne scoffed, and indicated with her chin to Dylan. San recoiled in fear.

This time, San's body had built up some semblance of expectation, and it didn't hit as hard as it had the first two times.

It still hurt, though.

Enough to make him cry out again, enough to make him pull at his chains as his tortured body writhed and contorted in its desperation to escape the agony that plagued it.

All he could see was the fathomless blood-red of Cezanne's aura.

Despite this, though, he noticed something, through his hazy, buzzing, electric thoughts as the pain consumed him and made his vision go red.

The pain had felt like fire through his veins, but it wasn't that.

It was his Dark Energy channels.

He knew instinctively, his brain registered it automatically. It was his body, after all.