Ezra Echelon Liberation System

Chapter 6: Freedom Through Oppression

Cold and dark, the dungeon dug at Ezra's sanity like an oppressive weight. Days melted into weeks, and with it came a subtle shift within him. Whether it was due to this anomaly of a system appearing in his mind or his realization that his body no longer wracked in constant pain, Ezra knew he could no longer afford to ignore the unseen force that was now acting within him.

 

And every time he had thought of it, the system sprang into being as some kind of ghostly vision, flickering blue before him and glowing faintly in the void. First, it had seemed madness: a trick of his mind as it began to unravel under the strain of captivity. But the more he thought about it, the more it felt like a lifeline—something to cling to in this abyss.

 

He felt inclined to know more about it.

 

This system didn't need words or gestures to operate. It only needed thoughts, and with a little concentration towards the interface, a bluish, translucent screen flickered alive in front of him, showing a complex series of numbers and symbols.

 

It was compartmentalized into sections, one more mysterious than the last. His title appeared at the very top: Warrior of Liberation. Heavy it sounded, with some sort of weight he could not quite grasp. After that came various tabs and categories flowing down the screen, glowing dimly to pull him in.

 

The first tab that he opened was Missions, and as soon as his thoughts touched it, a new section popped up. It was divided into three categories: Daily, Monthly, and Yearly. The format was not very complicated, and the more Ezra scrolled through the missions, his heart sank.

 

Daily Missions were straightforward: Suffer physical hardship without complaint. Keep your mind sharp in the midst of suppression. Meditate upon your purpose for at least three hours.

 

There was no getting away from this place, not just yet. But these missions, trivial as they were, seemed to provide something for him—an anchor amidst all the chaos that surrounded him. Well, it was little, but it was ordered. Something to hold onto.

 

“Next up was the Monthly Mission:”

“Gain strength through gymnastics.”

“Restrain yourself from provocation.”

 

Ezra scowled. Restraint? They had shown him nothing but brutality since his capture: jeering, beatings, the tossing around like a doll. How was he supposed to show restraint? But, of course, there was little room for defiance here, not meaningfully, and the system didn't need him to fight; it needed him to endure, to survive. A strange kind of acceptance began taking root in his belly.

 

Then came the Yearly Mission, and it was like a punch in the gut:

 

Restraint for Three Years: Survive captivity without seeking vengeance or attempting escape.

Three years. That was eternity, some sort of sick joke. No revenge. No escape. Just endure. He wanted to shout and scream at the screen in front of him, but words seemed to ring in his mind, hollow and sneering. Could he really do it? Was he supposed to live in this hell for three years without trying to get at the people that destroyed his life?

 

But a sudden thought stopped him. What would vengeance even look like now? His family was gone, and the people who had taken everything from him were far above his reach. Even if he managed to escape, what would he return to? Nothing.

 

His thoughts swirled in frustration, but another message came up on the screen, one that made him pause.

 

"The one who knows freedom is the one who understands oppression."

 

The words were cryptic, but they hit him harder than he expected. What was the system trying to tell him? Was it trying to teach him that his suffering had meaning? The thought was maddening, but part of him couldn't deny the truth in it. Perhaps this was just another part of the lesson he had to learn, another chain he had to break.

 

Ezra took a deep breath and pushed his doubts aside for a moment. His mind turned to the next part of the system: the Abilities tab. This is where things started to get stranger. The system wasn't content with just assigning him missions; it was offering him power, abilities he could barely comprehend.

 

First up was the Veil of Shadows ability. The description went like this:

 

You can blend into your surroundings, avoiding sight and mundane senses. Duration depends on mastery. Initial use requires a focus on stillness and silence.

What did that mean, to be unseen? To slip away like sand? The prospect tingled through him. Was he actually going to manage to get invisible to his foes? He didn't know how to do it, but he had the sensation that something was churning inside his body. Maybe this was the secret to survival, to bide one's time while the world writhes.

 

He remembered his father's fight, though he tried not to think about him very much, but his father used the ability during his fight. Then he started to come to a realization. This might actually be the way power was passed through their sect. Does that mean his father knowingly passed this unto him?

 

Next was Ethereal Step, and the description made his heart race:

 

You are more agile and quick than any human. Training lets you move with supernatural fluidity, performing impossible acrobatics.

 

Superhuman speed. To be faster than his jailers, dodging their blows with anything but grace and precision in his movements. He could imagine it now, moving like a shadow, slipping out of their grasp, free for just one moment. The thought put a new spring in his step.

 

The third ability, Silent Whisper, was arguably the most intriguing of all:

 

Communicate your thoughts directly with others, bypassing such barriers as distance or sound. With mastery, implant subtle ideas into a target's mind.

 

Ezra's mind reeled at the implications. He could speak without speaking. He could reach inside someone's mind and plant an idea, a suggestion. It was unsettling, but also powerful. The ability to manipulate thoughts, to control a situation without having to lift a finger, was terrifying in its potential. What if he used this power to change the hearts of those who held him captive? Or, more dangerously, what if the system had other designs for him?

 

Ezra felt torn as he took it all in. Yes, these were powerful abilities, but without instructions, he didn't know how to use or control them. All he knew was that the system wasn't offering him a way out, not yet. It asked for patience, restraint, like he was a seed laid into the ground, just waiting for the right moment to sprout.

 

His gaze fell upon the Missions tab, his eyes stopping on three words: Restraint for Three Years. This was a bitter pill for him to swallow, he knew, but he clearly had no choice. It wasn't revenge that the system was asking of him; it wasn't even offering that. It was something much harder to swallow, to endure, survive, get stronger until that time was right when one would finally break free—not just bodily, but also mentally and emotionally.

 

The thought of three interminable years of captivity weighed heavily upon him, and yet something inside began to shift. His body, so sore and weak for such a long period of time, vibrated with energy.

 

 It came subtly, a quiet strength from nowhere, yet he knew it. The system had given him a gift, not of physical power, but of patience, discipline, and control. Unheard of qualities he never considered; yet, with time, they started shaping him into something else, something far stronger.

 

Ezra closed his eyes for a moment and let the weight of the system's demands settle upon him. Long was the road ahead, but the first step was taken. His mind now made up, he whispered softly to himself, "I will survive, I will be strong, and when the time comes, I'll be ready."

 

Day after day, Ezra's body and mind hardened, and he could feel the powers stirring inside him, waiting for that day when he would finally be strong enough to wield them. The voice of the system was no longer a distant echo but a guide, a constant friend along his path.

 

He began to practice his style of martial arts and the feats of the system in captivity. The system guided him and showed him scrolls from their dead sect, all he needed. The more he practiced, the more decayed he appeared on the surface as he learned to coax his aura and eat from scraps like a madman.