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A Certain Magical Reincarnation

In a world of swords and magic, the Nameless Lord brought disaster four centuries ago. His dark legions invaded, and he wielded fearsome power. As the gods fell, they gifted the world a hero, blessed with divine favor and light. The hero repelled the darkness, but the Nameless Lord vanished suddenly. Records claim he was defeated, while legends whisper he retreated, awaiting his return." *** "Trevor, a mundane editor from Earth, died one fateful night. But as his life ended, a new one began. Reincarnated in a magic world as Reo Bellar, he found himself in the midst of a centuries-old conflict. Reo longs for a peaceful life in the suburbs, surrounded by friends and family. Raised by gentle parents in a small village, he discovered unusual abilities in his new body. Now, seeks the secrets to his past and of his rebirth. 'I'll be straight with whoever brought me here,' he thinks, 'I'm not interested in being a hero or vanquishing demons. Just a quiet life, away from all the excitement...' But fate had other plans for our Prince of Woe.

DBM_Novelist_ · Fantasy
Not enough ratings
109 Chs

Chapter 28: Beat

(A/N: please do bring any typos or grammatical errors to my attention, either by chapter or paragraph comments so I can immediately fix and attend to it. As I am only human too, there's only so much I can do without making mistakes. Thank you, and enjoy!)

***

The resounding clank of steel chains echoed through the dark passageways as they bound Reo, the sound reverberating through the winding maze of tunnels.

 Scar Face, a malevolent figure cloaked in ominous excitement, unleashed a deep, chilling chuckle as he dragged the young boy relentlessly behind him. He had made a deliberate choice to separate Reo from the rest of the group, guiding him down a twisting corridor that left the dungeon-like path behind. 

In his twisted mind, he relished the forthcoming torment that awaited the helpless boy.

Beneath the earth's surface, an intricate web of tunnels sprawled, curiously converging around an enigmatic underground chapel. 

These tunnels had their origins in long-abandoned mining shafts, their purpose forgotten by time. Yet, these subterranean passages had thrived and expanded, reaching out to connect with naturally formed underground caverns. One could only speculate that some cataclysmic event had drawn the once-surface chapel into the expanding labyrinth of tunnels, merging it with the depths.

But even within this subterranean realm, the chapel held an air of peculiarity that had not escaped Reo's notice. 

At first glance, it appeared no different from any earthly chapel: neat rows of benches, a meticulously adorned altar, religious icons, and intricate designs adorning the walls. 

Superficially, it seemed ordinary, and Reo's harried day had allowed only fleeting contemplation. He reluctantly concluded that his unfamiliarity with the local religion hindered him from discerning what set it apart.

A memory flickered in his mind—the masterful carving of a two-rayed sun and an eight-pointed star. However, Reo's thoughts were now consumed by more immediate concerns.

 Fatigue enveloped him, shrouding his senses in a numbing fog, an unusual experience for a person of his resilience. Something was amiss, though neither Reo nor Scar Face seemed to fully grasp the gravity of the situation.

'In the oppressive silence of their grim surroundings, Reo's thoughts meandered like a sluggish stream, almost detached from the grim reality unfolding before him.

'Don...'

As Scar Face continued to yank him forward, Reo slowly raised his lowered head, his gaze fixated on the broad expanse of the bald man's back. 

His heart thumped.

 An unsettling chill shivered down his spine, the murky depths of Scar Face's eyes emanating an inexplicable hostility that twisted his gut into knots. A simmering irritation gnawed at Reo, coursing through his veins.

Their journey down the desolate tunnels eventually met its ominous end.

 Scar Face came to an abrupt halt, his leg stomping down with finality. In one swift motion, he flung the defenseless boy into a chamber-like room, his limp body hurtling through the air and crashing unceremoniously onto the unforgiving ground. 

Sliding further into the dimly lit chamber, Reo's world momentarily spun with pain before surrendering to an eerie, numb void.

"We've arrived," Scar Face proclaimed with a perverse grin, stepping into the room and leaving behind the eerie tunnels they had come from.

 This underground passage bore little resemblance to the dungeon-like corridor they had left. It was grander, its width dwarfing its length, as if it were one of the many chambers where the labyrinthine network of tunnels converged with the natural subterranean world.

Summoning every ounce of his battered strength, Reo mustered the will to rise from the harsh ground.

 The cold steel of his restraints seemed to constrict further against his flesh, sending a shiver down his spine. A vague glimmer of awareness flickered in his glassy eyes as he briefly surveyed the eerie chamber. 

The ceiling loomed above, adorned with menacing stalactites that threatened to plunge upon him at any moment. Much like the rest of the cave, an otherworldly, blue translucent glow cast an eerie pallor over the air.

Turning his gaze left and right, a sliver of understanding began to pierce the fog of his listless mind. 

"...I see," he muttered, the words barely audible.

The chamber, though sparsely furnished, oozed malevolence, its humble accouterments belying its sinister purpose. It was a place where suffering found its gruesome expression, a room marked by dark secrets.

It was a torture chamber.

The lingering scent of blood clung to the air, an inescapable reminder of the horrors that had transpired within these walls.

As Reo grappled with the nightmarish reality that unfolded before him, Scar Face approached a wooden table positioned near the southern wall. His hand hovered over a gruesome array of tools, from pliers to thumbscrews, each designed for torment. His sadistic grin widened to a grotesque smile.

However, instead of selecting these instruments of torture, Scar Face's malevolent gaze shifted to a wooden club resting beside the table. 

"Hey, brat," he taunted Reo, his voice dripping with malevolence as he advanced leisurely toward the helpless boy. 

Simultaneously, Reo straightened his back, the rhythm of his heart pounding in the silence. 

Reo's heart seemed to thump harder behind his ribcage.

"...Hey," Reo muttered. His voice flat without a trace of amusement, laced with a mystifying chill, forcing the approaching scar face to subconsciously stop in place.

His eyes narrowed to a slit, the light of vague awareness burning furiously now. His eyes were sharp, the gaze even more deadlier as it threatened to tear a hole straight through the bald man.

Reo gave a cold, unsettling glare at the man.

A few seconds, none of them moved. Scar face, instinctively frozen in place, Reo still overcome by the strange lethargy.

Then his lips parted to break the silence.

"What did you do to Don?" 

His question was simple and held no emotion or excited tone. No hidden or implied meaning, no threats, no caution, no excitement, no spike in tone. Nothing. It was flat and monotonous.

Just an unsettling chill.

Thump!

Scare face faltered just half a step back and forced himself to stop. His expression was contorted into a grimace as his heart rate spiked with anxiousness.

'The hell is this,' he boiled with swelling anger, Took a massive stride forward and raised the wooden club in his hand.

"The hell do you think you're glaring at?!"

 There was no hesitation, no sympathy, no second thoughts, his club cut through the air with unrestrained power and crashed into the right side of the pale boy, crushing it and sending the body across the chamber, into a stone wall.

Boom!

The air exploded from impact, sending light tremors through the walls of the cavern. The body of Reo, forming a massive dent against the hard stone wall.

The bald man panted from his position. 

His chest kept heaving as he forced in heavy breaths through his lungs, listening to the resounding beating of his racing heart. The rhythm was outstanding.

...But something was wrong.

'What the hell was that?' Scar face thought feverishly, instinctively pushing down a gulp. 

His forehead was already beading sweat, his eyes tremblling and the tips of his fingers uncontrollably shivered.

He saw it.

'...At that moment,' Scarface's expression slowly turned pale as he raised his head —'the look in his eyes-,' before he could even finish the thought, he heard the sound of something deep reverberate through the cavern walls and his head.

BA-DUMP.

It was like the heavy beat of a drum.

BA-DUMP!

Again.

BA-DUMP!.

The sound grew heavier and deeper in Intensity each time it resounded.

BA-DUMP!

It was a heartbeat.