The Last Bargain

Chapter XXXIV: The Cost Of Speed

Zento's legs gave way beneath him, and he fell to his knees, gasping for air. His whole body felt as if it were on fire, a searing heat building in his muscles, his skin tingling with an unbearable burn. His breath came in ragged, shallow gasps, each inhalation feeling like he was swallowing hot coals.

He had done it—he had broken through the barrier, moved faster than he ever had before, faster than he had ever thought possible. But now, he was paying the price.

Too fast... The thought flickered through his mind as he clutched his sides, trying to steady himself. He could feel the heat rising in his cells, his body trembling with exhaustion, his vision blurring at the edges.

Around him, his clan members stood in a wide circle, watching with cold, assessing eyes. They were no longer attacking, their stances relaxed, almost bored. They had seen what they wanted to see—Zento pushing himself to his limits—and now, they seemed to be enjoying the aftermath.

"Look at him," one of the warriors sneered, a smirk spreading across his face. "He broke through his limit... but at what cost?"

A woman with sharp features crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing with disdain. "Impressive, in a way," she said with a mocking lilt, "but look at him now. On his knees, gasping like a dying fish. He's still too fragile... too weak to handle the speed he so desperately wanted."

Zento gritted his teeth, trying to ignore their taunts, but the heat in his body was becoming unbearable. His skin felt like it was burning, his muscles screaming with pain. What's happening to me? he thought, his mind racing, trying to understand what was going on.

"You thought you could handle it, didn't you?" another clan member taunted, a young man with dark eyes. "Thought you could finally prove yourself worthy. But you're just proving what we already knew—you're too weak, too slow... and now, too fragile."

Zento felt a surge of anger at their words, but it was quickly overshadowed by the intense, searing heat radiating from within him. His whole body felt like it was boiling from the inside out, his muscles cramping, his joints aching. He tried to stand, but his legs felt like jelly, unable to support his weight.

"See?!" the young man jeered. "You're a fool, Zento. Pushing yourself past your limits without considering the cost. Now look at you—brought to your knees by your own weakness."

Zento's vision swam, spots of black dancing before his eyes. He could feel his pulse racing, his heart pounding like a drum in his chest. His skin felt like it was blistering, his veins like they were filled with molten lava. Every breath he took was labored, each gasp sending a wave of heat radiating through his body.

"I... I have to..." he muttered, his voice barely more than a whisper. He tried to rise again, but his body refused to obey, his muscles trembling, the heat growing even more intense. He could feel sweat pouring down his face, his clothes sticking to his skin, soaked with sweat. His fingers dug into the ground, trying to find some purchase, some way to steady himself.

But the clan members only laughed, their voices filled with mockery. "Listen to him," the woman with the sharp features chuckled. "Still trying to stand, still thinking he can prove something. Pathetic."

Zento's mind raced, panic setting in as he realized what was happening. The speed... the friction... my cells... they're overheating. He had broken through his barrier, but now he was facing a new danger—his body was unable to handle the immense increase in temperature that came from moving so fast.

Another warrior, an older man with a grizzled beard, stepped forward, his expression hard. "You think this is enough?" he growled. "You think pushing past Mach 1 is some great achievement? You still have no idea what it takes to be a true Dassou warrior."

Zento coughed, his throat dry and raw, feeling as if he were breathing fire. "I... I can do this," he wheezed, his voice strained. "I... I just need... a moment..."

The older warrior shook his head, a look of disdain crossing his face. "A moment?" he scoffed. "A moment is all it takes to die at these speeds. You think breaking Mach 1 is impressive? You can't even handle the heat. You'll burn yourself alive before you ever reach the speed you need."

Zento clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. "No..." he whispered, shaking his head. "I can handle it... I have to."

Another clan member, a tall woman with fierce eyes, laughed. "You don't get it, do you?" she said. "The speed you crave... it comes with a price. Your body isn't built for it. You'll tear yourself apart before you ever reach what's needed to lead this clan."

Zento felt the heat rising in his chest, a deep, burning pain that made him want to scream. He could feel his skin tightening, his muscles straining against the pressure, his veins pulsing with a heat that felt like it would consume him from within.

"Maybe... maybe I'm not ready," he thought for a split second, the doubt creeping in. "Maybe... they're right..."

But then, he heard another voice—his own, from deep inside, a voice filled with determination. No, it whispered. You can't give up now. Not when you've come this far.

He tried to focus, tried to calm his breathing, to control the heat building within him. "Come on..." he muttered, his voice barely audible. "I can do this... I have to."

The clan members circled around him, their expressions filled with a mix of disdain and pity. "Look at him," one of them said, shaking their head. "Still trying to convince himself. Still trying to believe he's something he's not."

Zento felt a surge of anger at their words, his frustration boiling over. "I'm not weak!" he shouted, his voice hoarse. "I'm not fragile!"

The older warrior stepped closer, looking down at Zento with cold, unforgiving eyes. "Then prove it," he said quietly. "Stand up. Show us you can handle it."

Zento gritted his teeth, his muscles trembling, his body screaming in protest. He could feel the heat intensifying, his skin burning, his cells struggling to keep up with the immense energy coursing through them. But he refused to give in.

He planted his hands on the ground, pushing against the earth, trying to steady himself. He felt his arms shaking, his legs quivering, the heat radiating through his body like a furnace. But he took a deep breath, focusing his mind, willing himself to stand.

"I... I will... prove it," he whispered, his voice filled with resolve.

Slowly, agonizingly, he began to rise, his muscles straining, his skin feeling like it was about to peel away from his bones. The heat was unbearable, the pain searing, but he pushed through it, forced himself to stand tall.

The clan members watched, their expressions still filled with doubt, but a hint of surprise flickered in their eyes. "He's standing," one of them murmured. "But for how long?"

Zento swayed on his feet, his vision blurring, his breath ragged. But he stood. He stood tall, despite the pain, despite the heat. He would not fall. Not now. Not when he was so close.

"You... you wanted proof?" he gasped, looking around at the warriors who encircled him. "Here... it... is."

The battle was far from over, and he knew he was still facing his greatest challenge yet. But he would not back down. He would not give up. He would push through, no matter the cost.

He would prove them wrong.