Eric remained seated in the metal chair, his wrists bound behind the backrest.
Cold concrete pressed against his feet.
The taste of blood slowly spread across his mouth.
The warehouse felt even larger now that he was fully conscious.
The silence between the men was heavy—
Not because they were uncertain.
But because they were waiting.
He could see it in their eyes.
This wasn't improvisation.
This was procedure.
Footsteps echoed through the empty structure.
Then—
Emir stepped into the dim light.
Calm.
Controlled.
Like a man walking through his own property.
When his eyes met Eric's—
A slow smile formed.
Not anger.
Disappointment.
"I really expected you to be smarter," Emir said, approaching.
One of the men opened the bag on the table and carefully laid out the tools.
Chains.
Pliers.
Pressure instruments.
A small portable blowtorch.
Nothing theatrical.
Everything practical.
Emir ran his fingers over one of them—
As if evaluating the steel.
"I don't want to use these," he said, looking directly at Eric.
Eric felt his heart pounding—
But held his gaze steady.
"You want more money?" he asked, his voice rough but firm.
Emir's smile vanished.
A punch came fast.
Direct.
Violent.
Eric's head snapped to the side.
The metallic taste of blood intensified.
His ears rang.
"You think my group is a bunch of beggars?" Emir asked coldly.
Eric blinked slowly.
Trying to stay conscious.
Maybe there was no way out.
Maybe this was the moment when gold stopped meaning anything.
Two men stepped forward.
The blows came next—
Short.
Controlled.
Calculated.
Abdomen.
Ribs.
Shoulders.
No chaos.
Just measured punishment.
The chair collapsed under the force.
Eric hit the ground hard, skin scraping against concrete.
Before he could recover—
They lifted him again.
Back into position.
Emir exhaled slowly.
Like someone beginning a necessary task.
"That was just to keep you awake," he said calmly.
"The questions begin now."
He leaned in.
"Who supplies your gold?"
Eric stayed silent.
Elena's face flashed in his mind.
"Where is Elena?" he asked instead, his voice faltering.
Emir closed his eyes briefly—
Like dealing with a stubborn child.
"I ask the questions. You answer."
Eric said nothing.
Another punch.
Harder.
"Who supplies the gold?"
Eric spat blood onto the floor.
"I'm just an intermediary!" he shouted.
Emir tilted his head slightly.
Studying him.
"You expect me to believe you don't know who's behind this?"
More blows.
Time fractured.
Pain.
Breath.
Darkness at the edges.
Eric's eyes swelled.
Vision blurred.
His lips split.
Speech became difficult.
The chair creaked under his weight.
Minutes passed.
Or maybe seconds.
His resistance began to break.
He was close.
Close to losing consciousness.
Maybe it was better to speak.
Give a name.
Something distant.
Something impossible to trace.
A word began forming in his mind.
Midas.
His lips moved.
But before the sound could fully form—
Something impossible happened.
The system interface appeared.
But it wasn't blue.
It was red.
BLOCKED
Eric froze.
He had never seen that before.
Never.
"Where is he looking?" one man asked.
"Did he lose his mind?" another muttered.
Eric tried to force the word out.
"Mi—"
Pain exploded in his chest.
Not like a punch.
Internal.
Crushing.
As if something invisible was squeezing his heart.
His body arched violently.
The chair fell backward again.
The men stepped back instinctively.
"What's happening to him?" someone shouted.
Eric felt like his chest was splitting open.
Air vanished.
The world reduced to pulses of white pain.
He tried again.
"Mi—"
The pain returned.
Stronger.
He screamed.
Not in fear.
In rage.
"How can you betray me like this?!" he shouted into the empty air.
The men exchanged confused looks.
"He's lost it."
Eric lay on the ground, bound, struggling to breathe.
"I know there's something there!" he shouted at nothing. "If you created this just to throw me into destruction, then you're useless!"
Now—
Emir was watching carefully.
This wasn't just torture anymore.
This was something else.
Eric closed his eyes.
Tears mixed with blood.
"I don't care about myself…" he murmured. "But her… she needs to get out alive. This is my fault. I brought her into this."
Another wave of pain hit.
Stronger.
His heart skipped.
Maybe this was it.
Maybe this was the end.
And ironically—
Not by the hands of his captors.
His vision faded.
Voices blurred.
"Untie him!" someone shouted. "He can't die before he talks!"
The ropes were cut.
But Eric could barely hear.
In the darkness behind his closed eyes—
The interface returned.
Blue again.
Convert Coins
Dimensional Vault
And below them—
A third option appeared slowly.
Hero Mode — Activated
A new message followed:
Do you wish to acquire it?
Cost: 1 gold coin per minute
Do you want to make your first purchase?
Even through pain—
Through fading consciousness—
Eric understood.
With absolute clarity.
The System wasn't betraying him.
It was enforcing limits.
And offering a choice.
He struggled to breathe.
If he bought it—
He didn't know what would happen.
But if he didn't—
Elena would die.
And so would he.