1 Prologue
Clink.
The silver chains rattled against each other, creating an eerie sound that echoed throughout the wide expanse of cells.
There were only two people in the dungeon. A middle aged man lay slumped against the wall of one cell, his thin shirt matted with blood, sweat, and pus. It was impossible to determine the true color of it underneath the layer of dark crimson that had crusted over. His threadbare pants were in an even worse condition. Several gashes exposed the man's skin, which appeared brown due to the filth that covered it.
An old man dressed in neat yet worn out clothes crouched on a hard wooden chair in a cell several hundred meters away. He looked up, his eyes suddenly regaining some vigor from his previous lifeless state when he heard the clatter of metal hitting metal.
"It looks like he can't stand this infernal place." He laughed once, although it was more of a sharp bark.
A single torch hanging near the staircase leading to the upper floor was the only source of light. Its light could barely penetrate through the air full of dust and smoke. Long shadows were cast onto the walls, as if telling the two inhabitants that their fate would be to fade away, forever forgotten.
The middle aged man stirred once again. His eyes filled with a desperate glint, and again, he moved toward the wall and began using the sharp pin from the cuffs to carve out some shaky words. The man's wrists had already been chafed until they were raw. Yet even after more than a full day of bashing the chains, they still remained in their original form.
The walls were covered with scraps of text and partial designs. Strange shapes that gave you a sensation of impenetrable power were scattered among the indecipherable monologue the man had carved. Only a few words were legible.
Help... Rats... Energy... Dying... Shadows... so long... Why?... Save me... I can't... Eyes... Bite... HELP!
Although there were few people in the dungeon, there were an endless number of rats and various insects. Every so often, they skittered into a cell and took a chunk of flesh from one of the prisoners. Then they retreated back into the deep shadows with their prize, their beady eyes alert for their next opportunity.
...
An hour later.
...
The thump of combat boots hitting the ground filled the dungeon. The old man looked up, one hand grasping the limp and lifeless body of a rat he had just killed. The other hand was in the middle of tearing the rat's head off.
The middle aged man, who was still lying prone on the ground, lifted his head when he heard the commotion. In a raspy voice, he murmured, "Who is it? Water? Do you have water? Please. Save me."
The man who walked in looked at him before snorting. "Bastard. Do you think that you can redeem yourself now, Alex? It's too late now." He sneered, his face full of contempt. "You thought you were the genius doctor? Well look at you now. You have nothing. You are nothing."
The middle aged man's eyes widened when he heard the voice. Despite his heavy injuries, he sat up while wincing in pain. "Chris... You think that you'll have a good future? All you can do is harm people with your jealousy."
"Shut up." The man named Chris strode over and sent a sharp slap towards the middle aged man. "Alex. Enough with your nonsense. I was sent here to inform you of your public execution in an hour."
"... What?"
"You have 20 minutes to prepare yourself. I will return in 10 minutes." Chris suddenly assumed a calm, professional demeanor.
"Fine. Leave." Alex narrowed his eyes before shooing him away.
The moment Chris disappeared from sight, all of the tension escaped from Alex's body and he fell to the ground.
...
20 minutes later
...
Alex stumbled forward. The chains dragged on the ground behind him, scraping the hard dirt floor. Chris was standing behind him with a gun in his hand.
"Can you stop pushing me? I'm walking fast enough as is." A tinge of annoyance crept into Alex's tone. He glared at the other man as his hand crept toward Chris's arm.
With a lightning fast movement, he grabbed his target and wrapped the chains around it. Equally swift, Chris swung the gun around and pressed it to Alex's head.
He froze. He was distinctly aware of the cool circle of steel resting on his forehead. Backing up, Alex edged away from the gun that was ready to fire a bullet into him.
A nasty smile emerged on Chris's face. "Not so brave now, are you?"
"..."
"Fine. I won't have to see you again soon." With a final shove, Alex emerged into a large arena. He squinted, unaccustomed to the bright sunlight. Thousands of people filled the seats; all of them booed and hissed when they saw him.
Only a single other person was in the stadium. It was the old man who was also in the dungeon. He was holding a spear, and once he saw Alex, he advanced forwards.
"Hey. Mad boy. My name is William. I'm here to be your executioner." In only a few brief words, he sentenced Alex to death. "You're arranged to die of a hundred stabs in the heart."
"Let the execution commence." A cold voice broke William's one sided dialogue. Alex looked up, but he couldn't tell who the voice had come from.
In his moment of inattention, William had already charged forward with a strength that didn't match his age. Alex narrowed his eyes before crouching down, successfully dodging a thrust of the spear. They continued this dangerous dance for over a quarter of an hour, but soon Alex began panting and his reactions slowed down. His flesh was repeatedly lacerated by the spear, yet he found some unknown reserves of strength and continued evading the inevitable.
The sound of a heavy object travelling through the air at a high speed made Alex look up. A large black shadow appeared, its figure blotting out the sun. Taking advantage of his carelessness, William smoothly stabbed Alex's chest before yanking the spear back out again. He repeated this action several times, yet Alex had no outward reaction.
The agony Alex felt as his organs were pierced was indescribable, but his astonishment at seeing the printer fly towards him greatly outweighed the pain. The only visible sign of his pain was his eye, which twitched unconsciously.
The printer landed. With a wide-eyed fascination, Alex stared as it barreled into his head, immediately crushing his brain. However, for some reason he didn't register any pain as the printer continued its path of destruction.
As his vision faded away, he could see a small figure in the stands falling over. He was doubled over in pain, and only his head was visible after he had sat down. His arms flopped to his sides. Just before Alex lost consciousness, the figure looked him in the eye and shot a mocking sneer at him.
...
[Attention! There are two causes for your death!]
Alex opened his eyes to a giant prawn sitting on his legs. He blinked, before asking, "I'm dead?"
[Yes. You're dead. But, you seem awfully calm for a person who just died.]
He chuckled. "Prawn, I've already been through hell and back. Why would I be scared of dying?"
[True.]
[You have two options now.]
[First, you have the chance of watching all of your tormentors slowly die an agonizing death.]
[Second, you may reincarnate into another world, in which you will be able to utilize the mysteries you discovered prior to your capture. You will also learn why you were captured.]
[Choose one option.]
"The second one. Why would I care about those idiotic fools who can't accept change? Better to live a new life with my knowledge."
[Well said.]
[Congratulations in advance for your successful life. I look forward to meeting you again. Farewell.]
