[: 3rd POV :]

As Daniel advanced deeper into the heart of the building, the atmosphere grew heavier.

The air was thick with the stench of blood, metal, and something far fouler, it was desperation.

He could feel the residue of countless tormented souls that had suffered within these walls.

His footsteps echoed across the grim corridors, and with every step, the building seemed to tremble under the weight of his presence.

Then, like rats emerging from the shadows, they came, the enforcers, overseers, and so-called elites of the facility.

Clad in reinforced armor etched with forbidden sigils, their faces masked, their weapons drawn.

"Who the hell are you?!" one of them barked, his voice laced with arrogance and disbelief.

"You're trespassing on classified grounds—!" another began, already channeling energy into a spell.

But Daniel didn't answer.

He didn't even look directly at them.

He simply raised his hand—and snapped his fingers.

In an instant, the air around them shimmered, like glass breaking in slow motion.

And then—**detonation**.

Their bodies burst apart in synchronized explosions.

Flesh tore, bones splintered, and armor was shredded like paper.

There were no screams.

No time to react and no final words.

Just a chain of red mist and ruptured limbs painting the hall in grotesque splendor.

Chunks of metal and charred fabric rained down in the aftermath, clattering uselessly against the ground.

Daniel continued walking—unbothered, unmoved.

His violet eyes glowed faintly, reflecting the carnage around him like they were mirrors to his wrath.

They had chosen their path, to profit off suffering, to chain the innocent, to bleed the helpless.

And now, they were nothing more than stains on the floor.

As Daniel took each step, it echoed like a war drum against the decaying walls of the facility, a rhythm fueled not by fear—but by uncontainable fury.

His heart pounded heavily in his chest, not with excitement, but with an unstable, churning storm of emotions.

They battered him from the inside like waves against a splintering dam.

He walked slowly, deliberately, down the dark corridors lined with rusted iron bars and flickering lights.

The deeper he ventured, the more he was forced to witness.

He passed cell after cell, empty but reeking of torment.

Blood smeared the walls like grotesque art.

Chains hung from the ceilings, some still stained with old, dried flesh.

Torture tools—hooks, brands, knives—lay discarded on the ground, coated in dark rust and fresher crimson.

There were claw marks on the steel doors, as though someone had desperately tried to escape—someone who never made it out.

Daniel didn't speak.

But with every new atrocity, the silence around him seemed to scream louder.

And then—he heard them.

From farther down the corridor, echoes of agony reached him.

Screams.

Wails.

The sharp, broken sobs of children too tired to cry but too terrified to stop.

Adults begging—pleading with voices cracked and hollow.

Some were shouting nonsense, having been driven mad by pain and isolation, their minds lost long before their bodies could surrender.

Daniel's footsteps quickened.

His hands clenched at his sides.

He reached the source.

And when he did… he froze.

For a moment, the entire world stopped moving.

Before him was a chamber beyond cruelty—a prison within a prison.

It was no longer something that could be called inhuman.

What Daniel witnessed had transcended cruelty.

It had passed the threshold of what a person—no, even what a monster—was capable of.

The acts being committed before his eyes were not the product of war, greed, or desperation.

They were the deliberate, calculated expressions of pure evil.

Even monsters Daniel had slaughtered in the Forbidden Continent showed more mercy than this.

His presence was veiled.

They didn't know he was there yet.

In the narrow, filth-slick corridor before him, behind cold steel bars and bloodstained glass, five children were confined in a single cell.

The room stank of iron, rotting wounds, and burned flesh.

The light was too dim to see clearly, yet Daniel's Eyes of Calamity saw it all—every tremble, every bruise, every flinch.

There was a young human boy, missing his right leg and sobbing quietly into his hands.

A demi-human girl, her ears mutilated, chained by the neck and shaking uncontrollably.

An elf child, pale and malnourished, gagged with a strip of bloody cloth.

A demon youth, no older than ten, restrained by magic seals etched into his skin, leaking dark blood.

And finally, a small demi-human child, hunched in the corner with hollow, lifeless eyes.

All of them, different races, different origins… yet every single one of them carried the same expression—unfiltered fear.

They cried. They screamed. They begged for the torment to end.

"Please stop…"

"No more…"

"Mother… it hurts…"

"I want to go home…"

But their voices were answered only with laughter.

Not just one.

Multiple adults surrounded the children—dressed like guards, but they bore no discipline, no humanity.

They were drunk on the power of pain.

They mocked the cries.

They cheered when a child collapsed.

They smiled when one stopped moving.

"Break the horn off that one!"

"Let's see if the demon kid bleeds black this time!"

"Did the beastkin piss herself again? Hah! Weak little mutt!"

Daniel stood still.

Not a word left his lips.

His violet eyes—once glimmering with energy, power, and flame—were now drenched in darkness.

But not the wrathful kind. No heat. No light.

Just emptiness.

A void so vast, so cold, that even destruction paled in comparison.

He had seen horrors before. He had destroyed nations, slain gods, consumed kings.

But this?

This was unforgivable.

The moment Daniel unsealed his presence, the air cracked.

A ripple of pressure surged outward like a silent explosion, and in that exact instant, he vanished from where he stood.

In less than a breath, he reappeared—right behind the man holding a searing iron rod, poised to strike again.

With no hesitation, Daniel drove his arm straight through the torturer's chest.

There was a sickening crack as ribs shattered, flesh tore, and his hand burst through the man's sternum—black blood splattering across the filthy stone floor.

The torturer didn't even have time to scream.

The other men turned sharply, their faces twisted with surprise and sudden horror.

One of them stammered, "W-what the hell—!?"

But before another word could be uttered, Daniel's hand ignited.

He had activated one of his class skills that allowed him to manipulate elements.

The temperature in the room surged in an instant.

Scarlet fire, laced with black streaks, spiraled from his palm and consumed them all—burning not just their flesh, but their very existence.

The flames howled, devouring screams before they could escape their throats.

Their bodies were reduced to nothing—no bones, no ashes—just erasure.

Silence fell.

The flames dimmed.

The smell of blood and burned agony still lingered in the air, clinging to the walls like a curse.

Daniel stood there for a moment, chest rising and falling—not from exertion, but from the restraint of deeper rage.

Behind him, the children still hung limply from their chains.

Some had their heads bowed, too weak to look up.

Others flinched instinctively, as if expecting pain to follow fire.

Their eyes, dim and trembling, reflected more trauma than words could hold.

One of them—a demon child, his skin pale and cracked from magical burns—slowly opened one eye.

His lips quivered as he whispered, almost inaudibly:

"...Who are… you… mister…?"

Daniel turned toward him.

And for the first time since entering this chamber of hell, his violet eyes softened.

The void that once filled them gave way to a gentle light—small, but warm, like the first fire in winter.

"I'm Daniel," he said quietly, his voice deep yet calm, like the rumble of a safe storm.

"And don't worry… you're safe now."

With a wave of his hand, the chains snapped and the collars vaporized—not even fragments remained.

Daniel's control was so precise that none of the children were harmed.

Each restraint was undone, each cursed shackle erased, and the aura that lingered from their torment vanished.

Several of the children collapsed to their knees, too weak to stand.

But even then, they stared at Daniel with awe, fear, and something else—hope.

Not a single child dared to speak again just yet.

But for the first time in what felt like eternity, they no longer cried.

The silence that followed the slaughter didn't last long.

As the smoke faded and the flames receded, the children—once too afraid to even move—suddenly surged forward.

One by one, they clung to Daniel, like drowning souls finding a breath of air.

Their frail arms wrapped around his waist, his legs, even tugged at his bloodstained cloak.

Their bodies trembled as long-suppressed sobs escaped from their lips.

"I want my mom…" whimpered the elf child, voice barely audible through her cracked throat.

"I miss my papa…" the beastkin girl cried, burying her face into Daniel's side.

"Are we going home now…?" the demon boy asked, eyes filled with tears, voice quivering with fragile hope.

"I don't wanna die here… I don't wanna be alone anymore…" sobbed the human boy, his small fingers digging into Daniel's armor.

The youngest demi-human child didn't speak—he just held onto Daniel's arm, trembling, tears falling silently as if the act of crying had become too painful to voice.

Their cries grew louder.

The sound echoed throughout the chamber—raw, aching grief, tangled with hope and fear.

The tears soaked Daniel's coat, dripped down onto his armored boots.

But he didn't mind.

He didn't pull away. He let them hold him. Let them cry.

Slowly, he knelt down, gently wrapping his arms around them.

One hand reached up to softly ruffle the hair of the sobbing elf.

The other rubbed the back of the demon boy, who clung to him as if letting go would mean death.

"You're safe now," Daniel said quietly. His voice was low, warm, and certain.

"I promise you... no one will hurt you ever again."

And as they continued to sob, he closed his eyes, connecting to the system in his mind.

'System.'

A familiar screen blinked open within his thoughts.

[: Skill Detected – SS Rank: Life Rejuvenation (Cost: 2.5 Million Points) :]

[Restores lost limbs, organs, cells, muscle tissue. Nutritional deficiency recovery included.]

Daniel frowned slightly.

'How did you know what I was thinking?'

[: Come on, Host. After being stuck with you this long, I always know what you're thinking :]

The system teased gently.

Daniel gave a small, internal smile.

'Fine. I'll buy it. Points can be earned later… these kids need it more.'

[: Purchase confirmed. SS Rank: Life Rejuvenation acquired. :]

A faint glow rose from Daniel's hands—a soft, emerald light, pulsing with life itself.

It wasn't harsh.

It was warm, like sunlight through a window on a spring morning.

He reached out.

One by one, he touched each child.

As the glow spread across their broken bodies, the miracles began to show.

The elf girl gasped as bruises faded and color returned to her cheeks.

The demi-human girl blinked in disbelief as her ears slowly regenerated, twitching at the return of sensation.

The human boy's missing leg reformed, flesh twisting and repairing itself with no pain.

The demon child's cursed marks peeled away, revealing healthy skin beneath.

And the smallest one—the demi-human—finally blinked, as his eyes regained their glow, his hollow stare now filled with something resembling life.

The children stared at themselves… then at each other… then at Daniel.

"W-We're… better?"

"My leg… it's back…"

"It doesn't hurt anymore…"

"I can feel my arms again…"

Daniel smiled gently, brushing a tear from the beastkin girl's cheek.

"Yes," he said.

"You're all going to be okay now."

And for the first time in what felt like eternity…

the children cried not in pain—

but in relief.