Chaden had fought hard to participate in the game. He had fought hard to get up again, again and again, but then he encountered a barrier. The pain had grown with every time he had gotten up. Just because he had not turned unconcious, that did not mean that the pain could be endured indefinitely. Slowly but surely his will itself eroded, he experienced determinism on his own body. Strong his will may be, but anything strong will just resist up to a point, a point at which it breaks. Be it sooner or later, it will break and show that raw force can limit the freedom of thought when the body can not give in first. There was a reason that torturers will not believe a thing from their subjects before committing a few hours of waterboarding, muscle strain or teeth pulling. There was no way for the subjects to keep themselves from being spared the pain if the torturer is a professional. Because an untortured subject can lie, a tortured one will be broken in soul but not in body, the will broken to the point at which it can be used like an object, like a roll of toilet paper.

He did not want to stand up anymore, physically he could do it, but mentally he did not desire it, thus he would not physically or mentally do it. He grew jaded as point after point was put onto his side, depths of despair overtaking him, it just did not stop, he had to say it, he had to say: "I give up. You won.", and he did say it, because he was his will and his will was being used like a roll of toilet paper. The laughter of the arena, goalposts, ball and his opponent felt like annihilation both physically and mentally, Chaden imagined that he was no longer there to experience, he imagined that he was merely a body without Chaden, a nothing, just a piece of matter with strange properties. As the conciousness tried to drift away, disassociate with the body, a strong hand grabbed it roughly and shoved it back, inflicting a new kind of pain, the pain of forced existence, the pain of a prison. Chaden was trapped and he was suffering. With his last strength he asked "Please, I want death. Please make it stop.", but the laughter just grew louder and he tried to forget the sentence that came as response, but however Braderic had physically manipulated his mind, the sentence was shoved back. Chaden tried to oppose the force, but his battered ego could not muster the required resistance, the memory of the sentence was firmly lodged in his mind, shoved into his attention and pressed against the point where it hurt. "We can not kill you. Nobody can die here. You will live forever and never forget your defeat. You will be defeated over and over again. This is your new normal now, and you can do nothing about it.", that was the sentence he had fought against, the sentence filled his mind and all implications began growing like a wildfire sparked by a broken bottle and the summer sun. After being broken and ground to dust under the feet of a superior force, he was set aflame knowing it would be eternal, he knew that this was the truest expression of hell, constantly upping the pain, constantly breaking and reforming, permanently. The pressure on his mind abated, the force of the hand vanished, but the memory was baked firmly and would not budge, in his anguish he had become instrument of his self modification. He was tired, so he tried sinking deeper into the arena floor, but it came apart, he felt the clump of entities leaving him, satisfied in the destruction of steaker scum.

Why did he still feel overwhelming negative to see his tormentors go?