Utopian System

Frustrated, Elio struck the wall with his fist. The pain that shot through his hand only served to underscore the futility of his situation. The wall hadn't even been marked.

The constant light eliminated any sense of the passage of time, creating a feeling of eternity in that confined space. Elio found himself thinking about the city beyond his cell. About the streets full of people, the soldiers defending the walls, the life that continued without him. How long would it be before someone noticed his absence? Would it even matter?

He stood up and began to pace the cell, four steps from one side to the other. It was a habit he had developed during his watches on the wall, a way to stay alert and occupied. Here, in this confined space, it served to keep the growing sense of claustrophobia at bay.

Elio found himself thinking about his family, his friends. Would they know what had happened to him? Would they be looking for him? He imagined Zara and the others scouring the city, desperately trying to find him. But even if they knew where he was, how could they reach him?

The thought of never seeing them again, of dying in this cold and lonely cell, was almost unbearable. Elio felt tears threatening to spill, but he held them back. No. He wouldn't give up. He couldn't.

He slumped against the wall, his breathing ragged and his mind on the verge of collapse. The reality of his situation hit him hard, threatening to overwhelm him completely.

He closed his eyes, allowing himself a moment of despair. But even as the weight of his situation threatened to crush him, a small spark of determination refused to be extinguished in his heart.

"There has to be a way," his father used to say. "There's always a way."

In the midst of his desperation, a flash of light caught his attention: his system book, floating silently beside him.

Elio closed his eyes, concentrating. The salamander. His summon. Could it be his key to escape? He didn't know exactly how to control it, but he had to try.

♢♢♢♢

With trembling hands, Elio reached for the book. He didn't know how to bring his summon back, but... Maybe there, among its pages, he would find something that could help him. He quickly flipped through the pages until he reached the familiars section. His eyes fell on the image of the blue salamander.

"Fire Salamander," he read quietly, aware of the guard on the other side of the door. "Capable of igniting oxygen and manipulating fire at will depending on the summoner's mana. Its presence increases magic damage by 5 points."

His gaze lingered on a footnote: "Touch to summon."

Without thinking twice, Elio brushed his fingers over the salamander's image. A flash of blue light briefly illuminated the cell, and suddenly, the small creature was there, looking at him with its large curious eyes.

"Shh," Elio whispered, putting a finger to his lips. The salamander tilted its head, blinking.

Elio glanced nervously at the door, fearing the guard might have noticed something. When he heard no movement, he turned back to the salamander.

"Listen," he murmured, leaning close to the creature. "I need your help. I want to get out of here."

The salamander blinked again, its tongue briefly darting out to taste the air.

Elio suppressed a sigh of frustration. How could he explain to this creature what he needed? He looked around, searching for something he could use. His eyes fell on the spoon they had left with his food.

With slow, deliberate movements, Elio picked up the spoon and held it in front of the salamander. Then, with exaggerated clarity, he began to slide the spoon between his fingers, mimicking the movement of passing between the bars.

"Like this," he whispered, repeating the movement over and over. "I need you to do this. Pass between the bars and bring me the key. Do you understand?"

The salamander watched the movement with apparent interest. For a moment, Elio felt a spark of hope. Then, the creature lunged forward and bit the spoon.

Elio stifled a groan of frustration. "No, it's not for eating," he muttered, trying to free the spoon without making noise.

After a brief silent struggle, he managed to recover the spoon. The salamander looked at him, apparently confused by the loss of its new toy.

Elio needed another approach. His eyes fell again on the system book. Maybe...

"Look," he whispered, holding the book and the spoon in front of the salamander. "This is you. And these are the bars. I want you to do this."

The salamander approached the book, its nose almost touching the page. Elio held his breath, hoping he had finally managed to communicate his idea.

The creature studied the book for a moment. Then, to Elio's horror, it opened its mouth and licked the page.

"No, no, no," Elio hissed, pulling the book away. "It's not for eating. It's for understanding."

The salamander looked at him, blinking innocently.

Elio closed his eyes, breathing deeply to calm himself. When he opened them again, he noticed the salamander was watching him attentively…

"Ok one more time"

With slow, exaggerated movements, Elio approached the cell door. He pointed to the space between two bars, then looked at the salamander and pointed to the space again.

The creature approached, observing where Elio was pointing. For a moment, the young soldier felt a wave of hope. Then, the salamander began to lick the bar Elio was pointing at.

Elio had to bite his lip to keep from screaming in frustration. He slumped to the floor, his back against the wall, and looked at the salamander. The creature returned his gaze, its head tilted in an expression that almost seemed like concern.

"You don't understand anything I'm trying to tell you, do you?" Elio whispered, more to himself than to the salamander.

In response, the creature approached and curled up next to him, its body emanating a comforting warmth.

Elio couldn't help but smile a little. Despite his frustration, there was something endearing about the small creature.

As he absently stroked the salamander's scales, Elio's mind began to work on new ideas. The warmth of the creature against his side was oddly comforting, a reminder that even in this dire situation, he wasn't entirely alone.