Chapter 2: The Legacy Awakened

Words : 1853 Updated : Nov 13th, 2025

"Come at me, all of you!" Facing a pack of attackers, Stefan didn't flinch. His gaze hardened, and he shouted the challenge. He figured he was a dead man walking anyway. What was there to fear? They didn't bother with formalities. Grabbing whatever they could find, they rushed him, and the cramped cell erupted into chaos. Stefan had grown up an orphan, and fighting was the rhythm of his childhood. As an adult, determined to make something of himself, he'd disciplined himself with mixed martial arts. He could take on several guys at once; handling a few at the same time was no big deal. But now, shackled hand and foot and hemmed in by burly men, he was quickly overwhelmed. Soon, Stefan was streaked with blood from head to toe; some of it his, some from the others. He took a beating, but they were in even worse shape. He knew if it kept up, they'd beat him to death. He fought like he didn't care whether he lived or died, going all in, reckless and fearless. If he dragged one down, it was even; two, and he came out ahead. Spotting an opening, Stefan looped his handcuffs around a prisoner's neck and pulled tight. "Let go, let go, please let go..." The man's eyes rolled back. Stefan didn't let up. He ignored the blows raining down on his back and wrenched the cuffs until his knuckles went white. Just as the man was about to black out, the cell door crashed open. Bang! Anya stormed in with several prison guards. "Let him go!" She barked, swung up her stun baton, and tased the lot of them. Bodies hit the concrete, convulsing in spasms. Anya's gaze swept over Franklin and the other inmates, and she sucked in a breath when she saw the shape they were in. When her eyes returned to Stefan, something complicated flickered in her expression. Franklin and his crew were notorious hard cases, but Stefan, who looked absurdly like a college kid, had wiped the floor with them. The sight was almost unbelievable. Then she remembered he had raped and killed more than thirty members of the Scurr family. With that in mind, the carnage wasn't so surprising. "Stefan," Anya said, giving him a sarcastic thumbs-up, "you start a fight the moment you hit the cellblock. No wonder they call you the monster who raped and killed thirty-some people." Stefan just smiled and said nothing. He met her gaze, taking in the jagged bluish birthmark clawing across her face. He thought, this woman had been dealt a rough hand, too. Caught under his stare, Anya's face tightened; she almost snapped. But in his eyes, she didn't see the usual disgust or revulsion. A small warmth spread in her chest. All her life, people had looked at that birthmark with either nausea or pity. It had filled her with shame, and she'd learned to hide it behind bluster and force. Underneath, she was fragile. "Every last one of you is going to solitary for three days." Stefan shrugged inwardly. Solitary meant nothing to a man already at the brink. The other prisoners were another story. Panic glazed their eyes, as if solitary were hell itself, a place no one came back from. Soon, they escorted Stefan into a narrow, pitch-dark room that swallowed all sound. "Stefan, keep your head down, understood?" Anya held his gaze for a long moment, then turned on her heel. Darkness pressed in until he couldn't see his own hand in front of his face. Fear trembled through him, but he forced it down. If death was coming, what was the point of fear? A week ago, he'd been a young man with a bright future and a gentle, beautiful girlfriend who had loved him for three years. In seven days, his whole world had turned upside down. "Stefan, let's break up. I want fast cars and a mansion. You're a loser who'll never give me the life I want. Jacob Kenion, heir to the Kenion family in Tensby, has power, status, and money for ten lifetimes. He's my match. You're not even fit to shine his shoes. Get lost. Stop being my simp." Hailey's words from seven days ago still cut like a knife. "Hailey, if you want to break up, fine," he whispered. "But why hound me to the brink, and set me up to die?" In the narrow, solitary cell, Stefan clenched the jade pendant at his throat in his blood-slicked right hand. A low, animal growl rumbled from him. Heat flared in his palm. The round jade he'd worn since childhood pulsed with light, then elongated into a streak that shot straight into his forehead. "Ah!" Agony stabbed through his brain like a thousand needles. His scream echoed off the concrete. The next moment, he stared in shock. A black-and-white pattern unfurled, becoming a grinding wheel that turned slowly in the sea of his mind. On the wheel were countless carved inscriptions, dense and obscure. Above it hovered a blurred image, shifting and indistinct, impossible to make out. "What... what is this?" His eyes widened until they ached. Moments later, Stefan realized he had stumbled onto something extraordinary. He couldn't say what the wheel was. But a flood of information had appeared in his mind, far more than he could count. It included, among other things, training methods, alchemy and forging, arrays and talisman seals, face reading and fortune-telling, as well as medicine and astrology. "Holy shit. This is massive." Even steady Stefan couldn't hold back a curse. The knowledge sat in his mind like a vast library, open to him anytime, anywhere. No electricity, no internet bill. How could that not be insane? "Could this be some kind of ancient immortal's legacy?" "Did the jade trigger when it touched my blood?" A thousand questions crashed around in his head. Excitement rose up and wouldn't die down. With this inheritance, he was sure he wouldn't be caged for long. And then, he'd get his revenge. Still, you need the strength yourself to make it happen. If he wanted to walk out of here with his name cleared, first he had to survive. Then he'd have to win the trust of the people running this place or force them to bend. On that thought, Stefan pulled himself together and began to train according to the method that had appeared in his mind. The technique had no name, but he knew it matched the Harmony Wheel spinning in his consciousness. It could draw in any kind of energy, good or bad: spiritual energy, sickness, death, demonic taint, ghostly chill, baleful miasma, cold energy; everything could be absorbed and made his own. As the technique ran, currents from every corner of the prison streamed toward the solitary cell like a gale. After three days of training, Stefan's body was packed with strength; he felt like he could knock out a bull with a single punch. He knew this was just the beginning. Next came tempering his skin, flesh, blood, sinews, bones, and his insides. Only by hammering every inch of himself from the inside out, eighty-one times over, until he was tough as diamond and near-unbreakable, would the first layer of the Nameless Technique be truly complete. It would be a long and arduous road, consuming considerable resources. Stefan didn't rush. Just then, the door to solitary swung open. Light slashed in, framing a curvaceous silhouette in the doorway.

Chapter 2: The Legacy Awakened

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