TWACK!
TWACK!
TWACK!
TWACK!
The sounds of the whip hitting flesh and flesh tearing apart echoed in the corridors and cells of the prison of the Shadowgrave Clan.
In the beginning, this particular sound was always followed by screams of pain and mutterings of "I’m not with it. I’m not with it."
But now, there were no more words or screams that followed this sickening sound. It was just quiet whimpers that only those with the sharpest of ears could hear.
Once in a while, the voice of the demented and mad Game Master Pellin would echo loudly in the prison.
"You still don’t want to play?! I’m having so much fun!"
"Play! Play! Play! Play!"
"PLAY MY GAME!"
The prisoners who already knew that Simon was just a kid all closed their eyes and wished that death had pity over the boy and took him away from the mad pig.
They were not in his cell. They could not see what was going on. But they could vividly imagine the scene of what was going on in Simon’s cell.
After an unknown amount of time, the wicked sounds stopped and all the prisoners looked in the direction of Simon’s cell.
Was he... dead?
This was the question every single one of them had.
Meanwhile, inside Simon’s cell was a terrifying scene that would even cause some demons to puke out their intestines.
Simon was hung to the ceiling with chains binding his wrist, and the tip of his toes were barely touching the blood filled ground.
Drip
Drip
Blood fell on the floor from his back and entire body, and if one looked at the wall behind him, they would be shocked to see that it was stained with so much blood.
But if one were to look at Simon’s back, there were no words that could describe what his back had turned to. That is... if it could still even be called a back anymore.
There was no part of his back that remained intact. Every single part was torn off, his internal muscles and bones could be seen, and one could even see a little bit of some of his internal organs.
Simon’s head was hung low, and Pellin approached him after dropping the bloodied whip on the bench.
He licked his lips which was stained with Simon’s blood. His entire body was drenched in Simon’s blood, and the demon pig seemed to relish the taste and smell of Simon’s blood.
"Nice blood." Pellin said, then he held Simon by his jaws and shook him awake.
"Hey. Hey. Don’t die yet, alright. We still have a lot to do, and besides, you’ve not answered my question."
"Where is the Devourer’s blood essence?"
Simon’s bloodied and dirty lips struggled to open, and when his lips began to move, Pellin brought his ear closer to Simon’s lips.
"I... don’t... know."
Simon said with everything it took him, and Pellin’s left eye twitched in anger.
He stared at Simon for a few seconds, then he let go of his head, allowing Simon’s head to fall limply.
"Unbelievable. Even after everything, you still won’t give up the blood essence? Is it that important that to you that you’re willing to die for it?"
There was no response from Simon, and this was not because he did not want to answer, but because he couldn’t.
There was literally no more strength in him, and if he was a human not a demon, or if his body had not gotten stronger after devouring the corpse of the Mercenary Captain and also after his bloodline experienced an advancement, he would have died with how much Pellin struck him.
’I hate this life.’
Although a part of Simon wished for death to grant him rest and peace, he still did not want to die like this.
Ever since he was betrayed by his friends and wife, his life had been difficult in one way or the other.
How could he die when he had not even gotten revenge for those that betrayed him- his friends, wife, and mother.
How could he die without killing this damned pig?
How could he die without getting revenge against the Grave Lord and those who were in support of this torture?
How could he die without even awakening his demon heart?
How could he die without having even taken a step on the path of power?
Without having even climbed the ladder of power?
How could he die when he had not accomplished a single thing in this life?
He refused. He refused. He refused. He refused!
HE REFUSED TO DIE SO PATHETICALLY!
"You know. When they told me that I was going to torture a kid, I was greatly disappointed because why should I, the greatest artist of the Shadowgrave Clan torture a mere kid who has not even awakened his demon heart?"
"How could it be fun when a mere kid could break so easily?"
"But you’ve surprised me greatly, kid. You’ve truly surprised me honestly. You are not even afraid of me after all I’ve done. You’re still so calm."
Pellin glanced at Simon, then he shook his head with a flicker of excitement and madness in his eyes.
He shifted his gaze to his tools, then his fingers hovered above the tools as he contemplated on which one to pick next.
"Now, which one do I use on you next?"
Pellin’s eyes flashed as he picked up a collar."
He looked at Simon with a light smile.
"When you first came here, you had a slave collar of the Daegrins on you, but one of the great Grave Lords removed it."
"Now..." Pellin approached Simon with a wicked and cruel smile. "You’re going to have a collar round your neck once again, and this time, it’s going to hurt a lot."
Pellin stood before Simon and was about to place the collar round his neck, but then he stopped.
"Wait."
He rummaged inside his apron, then he brought out a jar.
Inside the jar was a centipede with a screaming human face.
"I nearly forgot my new toy."