Duel 5 3l — Elite Pain Painful

I am the sum of every pain you have inflicted.

3l was now within arm’s reach. They raised a palm. The mask’s eye sockets, previously dark, ignited with a soft, terrible gold light.

Across from him, the challenger was simply known as 3l. No armor. No weapon. Just a thin figure in a grey tunic, hands clasped loosely in front of them. Their face was a smooth, featureless mask of polished bone. Elite Pain Painful Duel 5 3l

He opened his mouth. No sound came out. His body convulsed as a thousand deaths—none of them his—tore through his nerves. The obsidian shards fell from his armor like dead leaves. His eyes went white.

The duel’s rules were simple: one touch. A single, intentional strike from Lament would transfer every ounce of agony 3l had ever felt, magnified a thousandfold, directly into their nervous system. No one had survived three lashes. Elite Pain had never needed more than one. I am the sum of every pain you have inflicted

“What… are you?” Elite Pain whispered, for the first time feeling a cold trickle of something unfamiliar: doubt.

The bell chimed a third time, but now it was a funeral toll. The mask’s eye sockets, previously dark, ignited with

He moved first—a blur of black and crimson. Lament arced through the air, screaming like a damned soul. It wrapped around 3l’s extended forearm.