The "Collection Cage: Desperate Reincarnation of the Immortal Magical Girl" breaks free from shackles, but cannot esca

The morning sun filtered through the branches of cherry trees in a small town on the outskirts of Tokyo, casting dappled light onto the asphalt road. Hoshimaki Nai, holding a piece of grilled seaweed toast, her pink wavy hair tied into high pigtails that swayed gently with her steps, her sailor uniform skirt brushing against the dew-kissed grass by the roadside. As a top student at the prefectural high school, she was rushing to make it before the morning assembly bell, the soles of her canvas shoes making a hurried yet rhythmic sound. "Classmate Hoshimaki! Wait for me!" a cry from a classmate behind her. Hoshimaki Nai waved without looking back, mumbling, "If I wait any longer, I'll miss morning assembly. You're too slow!" Before she could finish speaking, a sharp siren suddenly tore through the town's tranquility. At first, it was just a few distant wails, but in an instant, it became an overwhelming roar, spreading from the industrial district in the east to the residential area in the west, like invisible thunder rolling across the sky. The toast in Hoshimaki Nai's mouth fell to the ground with a *plop*. She stopped abruptly and turned, her pupils constricting sharply—the eastern sky was already engulfed in thick black smoke and orange flames. Immediately after, a deafening explosion erupted, the shockwave carrying gravel and dust towards her, making the awning of the convenience store by the roadside rustle violently, and glass shards rained down like a storm. Chaos instantly swept through the entire street. Office workers who had been strolling leisurely, grandmothers carrying grocery baskets, and schoolchildren with backpacks were suddenly thrown into a panic. Everyone scrambled in the opposite direction, some falling to the ground in the crush, their cries, screams, sirens, and the low roars of distant monsters intermingling to create a heart-stopping din. Hoshimaki Nai stumbled a few steps, jostled by the panicked crowd, and steadied herself by holding onto a nearby utility pole, her brow furrowed as she looked towards the direction of the raging fire. "This is just too much..." she muttered, reaching up to scratch her pink pigtails, her voice filled with helpless annoyance. "Can't these monsters just take a day off? I just finished my mock exams yesterday, and today even having a peaceful class is a luxury." The monsters she spoke of were frequent visitors that emerged from the fractured magical ley lines beneath the town. After absorbing enough magical energy, they would break through the earth, and when they expanded to a certain extent, they would cause violent explosions with immense destructive power. The only ones who could counter them were the mysterious magical girls. Hoshimaki Nai quickly scanned her surroundings, and after confirming no one was paying attention to her, she bent down and slipped into the narrow alley beside her. The alley was piled with discarded cardboard boxes, just enough to block the view from the outside. She reached into the inner pocket of her sailor uniform and pulled out a palm-sized magic wand—its shaft was made of a pearly white ceramic, topped with a pink crystal, and a faint magical aura flowed across its surface. This was the secret to her hidden identity and the weapon to protect the town. "Star Vein Convergence, Battle Stance Awaken!" Hoshimaki Nai gripped the magic wand, and a clear incantation spilled from her lips. In an instant, the pink crystal emitted a dazzling red and white light, enveloping her entire being. Within the light, her ordinary sailor uniform gradually transformed into a red and white combat-style sailor uniform. The pure white fabric had a lustrous sheen, with vibrant red lines outlining a sharp waistline. The skirt just reached her knees, shimmering with subtle light patterns as she moved. Her pink pigtails remained voluminous and perky, but two large red satin bows appeared out of nowhere on either side, their ribbons trailing fine gold threads that swayed gently with her movements. A large bow of the same color adorned her chest, its edges embroidered with golden rose patterns, echoing the long gloves on her arms—pure white silk gloves that hugged the curves of her arms, with a circle of gilded decoration around the cuffs, exquisite yet sharp. Her canvas shoes had long since vanished, replaced by white thigh-high stockings, the tops fitting snugly against her thighs. On her feet were white ankle boots with metal heels, which made a crisp sound when they struck the ground, steadily supporting her magically charged body. As the light faded, Hoshimaki Nai—now the magical girl Tarsita—slowly opened her eyes. Abundant magical energy surged within her, flowing through her bloodstream to every limb. Her body, which had been slightly tired from rushing, was instantly filled with strength, and her senses became exceptionally acute, allowing her to clearly pinpoint the location of the distant monsters and the frequency of the ley line fluctuations. She raised her hand and rotated her wrist, the gold threads on her gloves reflecting a faint light, and a shy yet confident smile curved her lips. "Alright, time to get to work." Tarsita tiptoed, her metal heels tapping lightly on the ground, and leaped up like a graceful pink butterfly. She used the wall for leverage, sprinting rapidly out of the alley and speeding towards the direction of the most intense flames. The wind whistled past her ears, and she could hear the hopeful shouts of the residents: "It's Lord Tarsita!" "Lord Tarsita is here! We're saved!" In the distance, several giant mushroom monsters were rooted in the ley line fissures, their caps emitting an eerie grayish-purple glow. Their expanding bodies made a "sizzling" sound, clearly on the verge of causing another explosion. Tarsita stopped, gripped her magic wand tightly, and pink magical energy gathered at her fingertips. "Don't cause any more trouble for me, okay?" she said softly, her voice carrying a hint of girlish charm, but her feet were already moving with swift steps as she charged towards the monsters. Her red and white figure weaved through the flames and smoke. As she approached the foremost monster, it suddenly spewed a cloud of grayish-purple corrosive mist, the usual trick of the Suger Mushroom. Tarsita lightly tapped the ground with her toes, using the support of her metal heels to leap into the air, easily evading the mist while her magic wand condensed a dazzling pink energy wave.

Star Munei remained in her mummified state, suspended a few centimeters off the ground by the rogue ribbons, her pink ponytail swaying slightly in her panic. Her eyes were wide with confusion and helplessness. She tried to channel her magic, to break free from the ribbons' restraint, but as soon as her magic surged, it was repelled by the dark mist emanating from the Obsidian Orb, sending a sharp, burning pain through her chest and scattering most of her magic. "What... what's going on?" she murmured, her voice laced with bewilderment and anxiety, completely unprepared to be ensnared during what seemed like a routine transformation. The monster in the shadows observed it all, a triumphant, sinister grin flashing in its dark yellow compound eyes. It slowly emerged from behind the structure, its crimson and gold body glinting coldly in the sunlight. Step by step, it approached the immobilized Star Munei, its raspy voice dripping with mockery, "It seems the Obsidian Orb's corrosive effect is even better than I anticipated. Without your true magic wand, your transformation has merely become a shackle to trap yourself." As soon as the words left its mouth, the red ribbons binding Star Munei receded like a tide, dissolving into fine motes of light that vanished into the air. But the expected release did not come. Instead, a more bizarre restraint took its place. Although she had donned the red and white magical girl battle suit as expected, everything about it felt wrong. Each part of the outfit had been twisted and mutated by the Obsidian Orb's corruption. The first sensation of abnormality came from her hands. The white, thigh-high gloves that had previously fit snugly against her arms now extended backward, merging with her skin. The fabric at the fingertips intertwined, binding her ten fingers into a single, unyielding unit, making even the slightest bend impossible. The ends of the gloves sealed together at the center of her back, forcibly pinning her arms behind her, as if locked by invisible shackles. She could only maintain a posture with her arms pulled back, her shoulders aching with a dull, throbbing pain from the constant tension, her muscles stiff as if they would snap. Any slight movement sent sharp twinges through her neck and shoulders. "How could this..." Star Munei's pupils contracted. She instinctively tried to raise her hands, but only felt the heavy, unyielding restraint of the fabric, unable to move them even a fraction. Her fingertips were sealed within the airtight gloves, making her feel suffocated, leaving only an overwhelming sense of powerlessness. Next, the white stockings on her legs began to shift. The edges of the stockings, which had previously encased her legs separately, adhered and fused together, instantly transforming into a single, seamless "stocking tube" that tightly bound her legs from ankle to thigh. The fabric was as taut as a second skin, rigidly holding her legs together and restricting the bend of her knees to an extremely small range. Her high heels also mutated. The left and right shoes merged, forming a single, complete shoe that locked her feet in place. The separate heels fused into a single, long, sharp spike, far higher than before. As she stepped onto the ground, her center of gravity instantly shifted, and Star Munei trembled, stumbling as if about to fall. She could only rely on the strength of her waist to maintain a precarious balance. The shoe's binding dug into her ankles, and every slight sway sent a stinging pain through her soles. Even more suffocating was the restraint around her waist. This battle suit had no built-in corset, yet the fabric at her waist now tightened and constricted as if by an invisible force, the pressure growing stronger and stronger, as if a fine steel wire were coiling around her, cinching her waist to an extreme degree. It accentuated her figure, making her appear even more voluptuous, but only Star Munei knew the truth: the force was crushing her internal organs, making breathing incredibly difficult. Every inhale was accompanied by a sharp pain in her waist, which radiated a dull ache to her lower abdomen, draining the strength from her entire body. Star Munei stood frozen, her arms pinned behind her back, unable to move. Her legs were held rigidly straight by the stockings and heels, the slender heels making her stand precariously, threatening to topple with the slightest misstep. The pain from various parts of her body intertwined: the dull ache in her shoulders, the stifling sensation in her fingertips, the stinging in her ankles, the suffocating pressure around her waist, all layering upon each other, relentlessly assaulting her senses. She looked down at her completely bound limbs, then touched the taut fabric around her waist, her eyes filled with incredulous confusion. The same question repeatedly echoed in her mind: "Why... why did the transformation turn out like this? How could my magical outfit trap me instead?"

Intense regret and humiliation washed over her like a tide. She regretted her overconfidence, believing she could control everything with her time-stopping ability, only to overlook the fiend's insidious trap. She regretted her rash decision to rush onto the rooftop, not only failing to rescue Xing Muna but falling into a trap herself. Now, both of them were imprisoned with no hope of rescue. This humiliation was far more profound than any physical pain—she, who once fought alongside Xing Muna, a magical girl who protected their town, was now like a sacrificial lamb, ensnared by an invisible trap, stripped of even the right to resist. She could only watch as she was immobilized by this bizarre ground, her cries for help rendered utterly futile. A viscous substance clung tightly to her limbs, its oppressive weight spreading from her extremities to her torso, making her breath come in ragged gasps. Her arms were pinned to her sides, her legs locked in place, leaving only her torso capable of a feeble wriggle, yet it changed nothing. The sharp determination in her ice-blue eyes had faded, replaced by despair and regret. Tears, mingled with the sticky grime on her face, slid down, vanishing the moment they touched the ground. But Kazama Aolani's will was stronger than she imagined. She refused to surrender completely. Gritting her teeth, she used her remaining strength to twist her torso, her hands instinctively straining, trying to break free from the clinging mire, unwilling to be captured without a fight, even if the hope was minuscule. Suddenly, a strange looseness emanated from her arms. Kazama Aolani's heart leaped, seeing a chance for escape. She pulled outwards with all her might. But in the next second, excruciating pain surged through her entire body. She looked down, her pupils contracting, her entire being struck by lightning—her arms had indeed been torn from the viscous ground. Yet, the outline of her arms remained imprinted on the surface. In her hands, she clutched only the white, knee-high gloves covered in the sticky substance. Her arms, however, had vanished into thin air! Panic engulfed her. She instinctively tried to brace herself with her legs, only to find them numb. Looking down, her legs were gone. The lower half of her body, once encased in white stockings and boots, was now just a bare torso, like a piece of flesh severed from its limbs. "No... impossible!" she screamed, her voice tearing with agony and despair. She could only writhe on the ground with her torso, each movement accompanied by a searing pain and a bone-chilling terror. "How could such an evil magic exist? This is impossible!" She would have preferred to be completely immobilized by the trap than to accept the cruel reality of her lost limbs. Her ice-blue eyes, bloodshot from sheer terror, streamed with tears, completely blurring her vision. [View Switch] On the other side of the rooftop, the red and gold fiend, previously frozen by time, suddenly moved. The pale blue aura of temporal stasis dissipated like bubbles. The fiend flexed its stiff arm, a glint of cunning and triumph flashing in its dull yellow compound eyes. A hoarse chuckle echoed across the empty rooftop. It walked step by step towards Kazama Aolani, its gaze falling upon the figure standing motionless in the center of the rooftop. Kazama Aolani, still in her transformed state, maintained the pose of holding a ceramic pot, her ice-blue eyes vacant, frozen like a puppet. There were no restraints on her, and the concrete ground beneath her feet was solid and flat, showing no trace of a viscous swamp.

Starry Curtain Nai was the first to turn her neck, her gaze falling on Qing Lan's fused stockings. The white fabric clung tightly to her legs, extending from her ankles to the roots of her thighs, seamlessly integrated as if they had grown on her skin. She then looked at Qing Lan's arms, bound behind her back, the long gloves already fused together, securing her arms firmly. The glue at the fingertips was faintly visible through the gloves, rendering each finger immobile. Qing Lan, in turn, observed Starry Curtain Nai. The sticky fluid on her red and white combat suit had not yet dried, and the fused stockings and gloves were made of the same material as her own, equally, despairingly secure. The two exchanged a look of understanding and began to rationally analyze their situation. Their combat suits were originally magically enhanced defensive gear, possessing extreme toughness and defense. Ordinary weapons could barely scratch them, let alone be torn by the strength of ordinary women like themselves, currently bound. Qing Lan tried to rub her shoulder against the gloves on Starry Curtain Nai's arm, attempting to test if a gap could be worn away. Starry Curtain Nai, meanwhile, struggled to twist her torso, gently bumping her bound legs against Qing Lan's, hoping to find a weak point in their restraints. But no matter how they probed and analyzed, they could only sink into deeper despair. Qing Lan's legs were so snugly encased by the stockings that they seemed to have merged with her limbs, leaving no room for leverage. Starry Curtain Nai's fingers were completely sealed by the glue and then covered by the gloves, rendering even the slightest bend impossible, let alone tearing the restraints with fingertip strength. They rubbed and writhed against each other, using their only mobile torsos to collide with each other's restraints, attempting to use each other's strength to create looseness, but it was all in vain. The cuffs of the stockings clung tightly to their skin, and despite their frantic efforts that left them sweating, they didn't budge an inch downwards. The fused areas of the gloves and clothing remained tightly sealed, showing no signs of cracking. The viscous fluid mixed with sweat, causing the combat suits to adhere even more closely to their skin. The suffocating, distending sensation of being tightly wrapped by an alien substance grew stronger. Starry Curtain Nai stopped moving, gasping for breath, the determination in her eyes gradually replaced by helplessness. Qing Lan also slumped to the ground, her ice-blue eyes filled with frustration. They clearly realized that these damned restraints had long since merged with their clothing and skin, and were impossible to break free from by human strength. Their previous struggles and analyses had merely added a sliver of false hope to their desperate situation. The monster leaned against the railing, observing it all, and let out a hoarse laugh again, filled with undisguised mockery. "Don't waste your efforts. These restraints were made by modifying your combat suit material and enhanced with my magic. Unless you can break through the magical blockade, you'll never escape." Its words were like cold hammers, but they failed to completely crush the two women's will. Unwillingness and rage ignited in Starry Curtain Nai's and Qing Lan's eyes. Muffled groans emanated from their throats, a protest against the monster and an encouragement to themselves – they would never give up so easily. The monster, not in a hurry, simply crossed its arms and stood aside, watching their struggles with amusement, like watching two trapped beasts in futile resistance. Time ticked by, and nearly half an hour passed in the blink of an eye. Starry Curtain Nai and Qing Lan had long since exhausted their strength, slumping to the ground, panting heavily. Their chests heaved violently, sweat trickled down their foreheads, soaking the already sticky combat suits. The red and white, and white and blue combat suits were completely drenched in sweat, becoming semi-transparent and clinging tightly to their skin, outlining their figures even more clearly. The once defensive gear had now become shackles that amplified their disheveled state. Starry Curtain Nai's pink curly hair was matted to her neck and cheeks by sweat and sticky fluid, emitting a faint, stuffy odor. Qing Lan's sky-blue short hair was also wet and stuck behind her ears, her ice-blue eyes filled with exhaustion, the strength of her struggles gradually weakening.

The Demon King walked to the center of the basement and placed two cardboard cutouts on an exquisite black stand. Just as he was about to raise his hand to cast more stringent confinement runes, heavy footsteps echoed from the basement entrance. Two expressionless demon realm guards, clad in pitch-black armor adorned with chillingly cold spikes, bowed as they entered, a faint aura of death surrounding them. "Your Majesty, your subordinates are here to inventory the collection. Shall we place the new acquisitions in the display cases?" the guards' voices were hoarse and dry, like the grinding of rusted metal. They bowed respectfully to the Demon King, their gazes falling on the cardboard cutouts on the stand without the slightest ripple of emotion, clearly accustomed to such scenes. The Demon King nodded slightly, his tone indifferent. "Hang them in the middle-tier display cases. Guard them well, and don't let them get damaged." "Your subordinates obey." The two guards stepped forward, carefully picking up the two cardboard cutouts. Their fingers, as they touched the protective film, moved with a gentleness as if handling fragile treasures. Yet, this "cherishing" was merely because they were the Demon King's possessions, not out of any pity for the two individuals. Xing Munai and Qing Lan writhed desperately on the cardboard, whimpering in their throats, their ice-blue and pink eyes filled with resistance—they absolutely did not want to be hung up like actual toys for others to ogle. But their struggles were as if nonexistent to the guards. The two guards, one in front and one behind, walked towards the massive display cabinet on the north side of the basement. The cabinet was entirely crafted from dark black crystal, arranged in layers, each illuminated by a pale purple spectral flame, clearly reflecting the scene within. As the guards raised their hands to hang their cardboard on the middle-tier hooks, Xing Munai and Qing Lan finally saw the full extent of the display cabinet's interior. Their pupils contracted sharply, as if struck by lightning, their struggles instantly ceasing, leaving only bone-deep fear and despair. This tier of the display cabinet was already filled with cardboard cutout toys of magical girls, identical to them. Dozens of cardboard cutouts of various colors were neatly arranged, each imprisoning a magical girl. They wore battle suits of different colors and styles, with varied hairstyles and ages—there were shy girls with pigtails, mature women with long, curly hair, and androgynous girls with sharp, short cuts. Each cardboard cutout bore their name, a QR code, and a price. The figures beneath the transparent film were either filled with grief, hollow, or still struggling feebly, exactly like their current predicament. Xing Munai's pink eyes were filled with disbelief. The list of fallen heroes recorded by the town's Magic Association flashed through her mind—those "sacrificed" seniors and peers in monster attacks, those names that existed only in legends and archives, now corresponded one by one to the figures on the display cabinet. The girl on the blue cardboard next to her was a senior who had been recorded as "heroically fallen" in the battle at the suburban ley line rift three years ago. And Qing Lan's gaze fell upon a yellow cardboard cutout, the girl on it was clearly a fellow magical girl who had disappeared half a year ago, everyone at the time assuming she had been devoured by a monster. "So... there was never any 'fallen hero'," Qing Lan screamed madly in her heart, the whimpers in her throat muffled and despairing. The sacrifices that were sung of, the deaths that were mourned, were all lies! All the missing and fallen magical girls had not truly died, but had been captured by monsters, brought to this demon realm basement, and turned into the Demon King's collectible toys, forever trapped on a small piece of cardboard, enduring the humiliation of being watched and played with.

Another figure, a doll-like girl, was posed in mid-flight. Her arms were spread wide, her body leaning forward, but her ankles were tethered to the base by slender chains of magic. Where the chains met her skin, a dark red discoloration had formed, a testament to years of constant friction. Her neck was stretched taut, her head forced back, exposing the delicate curve of her throat, yet inflicting a perpetual ache. Her body, held in a fixed state, kept her muscles in a constant, unyielding tension, unable to relax. Her peak physical condition only amplified the clarity of this tightness, each second a wave of strain and dull pain, a torment that could never be relieved, only endured in the most elegant posture, bearing the most secret of suffering. The innermost amber specimen held a despair that spanned centuries. A girl in a retro white combat suit was entombed at the heart of the amber, her arms wrapped protectively across her chest, as if shielding herself during her capture, a pose now frozen in time. The amber, hard and unyielding, encased her body, solidifying even the gentle sway of her hair, her last breath caught in a gasp of finality. Her face was still etched with terror, her eyes wide, her lips parted as if in a final, unheard plea, but the amber silenced all sound and movement. For a hundred years, her body had been preserved by the amber, kept in its prime, yet forever locked in this terrified posture, feeling the subtle, agonizing drain of her magic, watching with clear eyes as generation after generation fell into the same fate, even the simple act of closing her eyes a forbidden luxury. Beside the amber, another ancient girl was sealed in a separate, irregularly shaped piece. Her body was forcibly twisted into a sideways lying position, her arm pinned beneath her. Even through the thick amber, the pale, compressed marks on her arm were visible. Her long hair was tangled messily around her body, her combat suit torn, revealing skin marred by faint scratches, clear evidence of a fierce struggle before her capture. A century of imprisonment had robbed her eyes of their light, leaving only a dead, desolate sorrow. Yet, bound by an eternal curse, she remained lucid, acutely aware of the numb pressure on her arm and the hollow emptiness of her continuously drained magic. This pain was like a dull blade, slow and unending, carving itself into the very depths of her soul. These veteran magical girls, some with a flicker of defiance still burning in their eyes, others worn down by time, had all their struggles eroded, yet remained lucid due to the eternal curse, enduring their unique torments. Their gazes upon Xing Muna and Qing Lan held pity, compassion, and a hint of resigned helplessness – "two more companions." They felt sorry for the newcomers, their hearts aching for the collapse of their despair, but they themselves were already submerged in this endless torment, unable to even offer each other solace. They could only share the conscious agony, allowing the Demon King to drain their magic, for eternity.

After the Demon King departed, the silence of the basement was shattered by a symphony of pained moans. The magical girls, sealed onto cardboard by transparent film, whimpered softly, their choked cries laced with extreme agony or bone-deep exhaustion, each sound a silent accusation against their curse of eternal life. The flickering, dark purple spectral flames cast their writhing forms on the cardboard into stark relief, making their struggles appear even more pathetic. They twisted their torsos with all their might, but only managed to make the cardboard tremble faintly, unable to break free even an inch. Only their eyes could dart around frantically, scanning the hellish prison with terror, their only remaining capacity for movement. Deeper within the display cases, the ancient magical girls, imprisoned for centuries or decades, had long since been worn down by the endless passage of time. Their petrified figures, encased in amber, held only the dead stillness of despair in their eyes. They felt every ounce of their magic being drained, endured the agony of their bodies being permanently frozen, yet even the release of death was a luxury denied to them. The curse of eternal life was the most vicious of shackles, forcibly maintaining their consciousness in a state of perfect clarity and health, preventing them from succumbing to madness or unconsciousness. It compelled them to endure this torment day after day, year after year, watching generation after generation of their kind fall prey to the same fate. This lucid despair was more soul-crushing than any torture. They longed to sink into oblivion, to let their consciousness fade into darkness, but the peak physical condition flowing through their veins and the sharp clarity of their minds served as constant reminders: this torment would never end. The figures in the lower display cases, the ones shaped like figurines, experienced a humiliation that far surpassed their physical pain. They were magically fixed in various seductive and alluring poses: some were forced into a bent-over posture, lifting their skirts just enough to reveal their waists, their curves sculpted to perfection; others were held in a side-leaning stance, one arm casually resting on their hip, their pose alluring yet imbued with an indescribable stiffness; still others stood with their legs slightly apart, their backs straight, a permanent blush fixed on their faces, a stark contrast to the shame burning in their eyes. Once their bodies were solidified, they couldn't even blink, forced to maintain these shameful poses, enduring every gaze that lingered upon them. This unending sense of shame was like a dull knife, repeatedly slicing at their self-esteem, forcing them to endure a daily spiritual flaying with their conscious minds. The cardboard toys in the middle display cases presented an even more spectacular tableau of despair. Dozens of vibrantly colored cardboard sheets were neatly arranged, each imprisoning a living magical girl. They were like animated toys, granted life but stripped of freedom, writhing futilely on the cardboard. Some desperately rolled their eyeballs, searching for a glimmer of hope in the silent space; others emitted angry whimpers from their throats, venting their defiance and indignation; still others looked at their seniors and companions beside them, their eyes filled with pity and despair. They could clearly sense each other's suffering but were unable to convey even a word of comfort. Confined to their small cardboard prisons, they could only watch as their magic was slowly siphoned away, as time slipped by in an endless cycle of torment, becoming an unfading part of the Demon King's collection. Throughout the entire basement, the pained groans, suppressed whimpers, and the lingering stench of demonic residue intertwined. The dark purple spectral flames flickered, illuminating each imprisoned "curio." Whether they were living toys on cardboard, suspended figures in crystal balls, ancient girls frozen in amber across time, or figures with solidified poses on display stands, all were bound by the curse of eternal life, enduring their unique torments. In lucid despair, they awaited the next extraction of their magic, awaiting another ordeal in the endless years to come.