Shadow Being System

Chapter Six: A Host's Agony

As William chose "Yes" in his mind, a cold wave of energy surged through his body like an icy river flooding his veins. His eyes widened in shock, his breath caught in his throat. Then came the pain—immediate and overwhelming. It was an agony unlike anything he had ever known, and it struck him with the force of a hurricane.

His muscles spasmed violently, his bones felt like they were being twisted, bent, and snapped, and his skin burned as if set ablaze from the inside. *Am I going to die?* he thought, panic rising like bile in his throat. His head pounded with a relentless pressure, the sound of his own heartbeat hammering in his ears like war drums.

"System integration commencing… Host accepted."

The voice echoed in his mind, cold and indifferent to his suffering. His body convulsed as the energy coursed through him, bending him to its will. William's eyes rolled back in his head, and every nerve screamed in protest. The pain was unbearable, like shards of glass slicing through his veins, tearing him apart from within.

He wanted to scream, to claw at his own skin, but his body was frozen in place—a prisoner in his own flesh. His mind teetered on the edge of madness, every second stretching into an eternity as the system dug deeper, binding itself to his very essence.

Memories flashed before his eyes like a cruel montage—his mother's gentle smile, his father's cold, disappointed glare, the years of mockery, the beatings, the laughter that had haunted him for as long as he could remember… everything that had led him to this moment.

"Initialization complete. Commencing synchronization."

The voice was louder now, colder. William felt something invade his mind, probing, searching through his thoughts, his memories, his deepest fears. He felt exposed, like an insect pinned under a magnifying glass. His thoughts were no longer his own—they were being read, analyzed, torn apart.

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And then… silence.

A moment of stillness, a brief reprieve. William's body went limp, and he gasped for air, his chest heaving as he struggled to breathe through the pain, through the fire still searing his veins. His heart raced, his skin slick with cold sweat. He wondered for a moment if he was even still alive.

"Synchronization complete."

The voice was calm now, almost gentle, but beneath it, William felt a presence—a dark, ominous force that had settled deep within him. It felt alien, like a shadow stretching across his soul. He knew it was there, lurking, waiting.

"Welcome, Host. Your journey begins now."

As the pain began to subside, William felt something shift inside him. A new strength flowed through his limbs, filling him with a strange, dark energy. He realized he was no longer weak, no longer broken. He had accepted the system, and in doing so, he had embraced something both powerful and terrifying.

But at what cost?

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Somewhere far away, an imposing palace stood against the skyline, its towering spires gleaming in the moonlight. The palace was grand, an architectural marvel with walls of pristine white marble and columns adorned with intricate carvings of mythical beasts. The windows were framed with gold and silver, and the vast entrance gates were made of polished bronze.

The surrounding gardens were immaculate, filled with roses, lilies, and fountains that sparkled like diamonds under the soft glow of the palace lights.

Inside, the dining hall was equally magnificent, with high ceilings painted with vivid frescoes of ancient battles and mythical creatures. A massive chandelier of crystal and gold hung from the ceiling, casting a warm, gentle light over the long, polished oak table. The table itself was set with fine china, silverware, and an array of delicacies, from roasted meats to exotic fruits.

At the table sat a family of four, their clothes plain despite their obvious wealth, a sign of their humility. At the head of the table was the father, a man with a commanding presence and eyes like steel. To his right sat his wife, a woman with kind eyes and a graceful demeanor.

Their two daughters sat across from them—one, a young woman of twenty with an air of quiet strength, and the other, a girl of sixteen with bright, determined eyes.

The father turned to the younger daughter. "Eleanor, have you prepared?" His voice was deep, authoritative, but there was a note of tenderness there.

Eleanor nodded, her face composed, though her hands were clasped tightly in her lap. "Yes, Father," she replied, a small smile playing on her lips. But her mother's eyes were clouded with worry.

"Eleanor," the mother began softly, "you know you don't have to go. It's dangerous…"

Eleanor's smile widened slightly. "As royalty, Mother, we must lead by example," she replied, her tone light but resolute.

The father smiled, a look of pride on his face. "Well said, my daughter," he remarked, his chest swelling with pride.

The older daughter, with a teasing grin, chimed in, "Oh, don't worry, Mother. The only ones who should be afraid are those poor souls who Eleanor is going to break their hearts."

Everyone at the table laughed, and even the mother's worried expression softened into a gentle smile. The father chuckled deeply, nodding his approval. "Indeed, they should be worried."

Eleanor joined in the laughter, but her eyes remained serious, her mind already on the task ahead. The weight of her responsibility pressed on her, but she wore it like a cloak, proud and determined.