Third Floor [part 2]

This chapter is only for readers 18+ and contains disturbing scenes. Please read it at your own risk.

The next prisoner appeared like a shadow in the darkness, his piercing gaze reflecting pure ferocity.

He lunged at me, wielding a rusty axe. His speed and precision were alarming, but fortunately, I managed to block the blow with my weapon.

Nevertheless, the impact was devastating, causing both of us to stagger back several steps.

Despite this, my opponent quickly regained his balance and advanced with a sudden burst, continuing his assault with brutality that defied reason.

Every strike he unleashed seemed aimed at breaking me, but I responded with equal ferocity.

We reached a stalemate until, with a lightning-fast move, I managed to disarm him, grabbing the axe and using it against him.

Blood sprayed in all directions as my opponent fell to the ground with a muffled scream.

Even though I had won and killed him, there was no time for me to catch my breath and relax for a moment.

Another prisoner, armed with a spiked mace, approached with heavy steps.

His first strike aimed at my head, but I barely dodged, hearing the weapon's whistle as it passed close to my ear.

I responded with a punch that hit him in the face, shattering bones and teeth, causing him to drop the mace, giving me the opportunity to deliver a precise blow, allowing me to eliminate him.

Despite this, the pain from my wounds persisted and was incessant, pulsating, but I couldn't afford to stop.

Each new opponent seemed more determined than the last.

A prisoner armed with chains lunged at me, the chains whipping through the air with a deadly hiss.

I blocked one of his attacks with my remaining arm, feeling the metal cut into my flesh.

With a scream of pain, I grabbed the chain and pulled with all my strength, unbalancing my opponent and dragging him toward me.

A swift blow to the throat made him collapse to the ground, choking on his own blood.

My body was now covered in wounds, and every movement was an act of pure will.

But then, something I had been eagerly awaiting happened: the arm that had been cut off was regenerating.

Indeed, the arm that had been severed began to regenerate, with tissues reforming at an incredible speed. During this brief period, my arm was completely new, as if it had never been cut off and had always been there.

Nevertheless, there was no time to marvel at what had happened.

The prisoners kept coming, waves of fury and desperation.

A group of three lunged at me simultaneously.

One wielded a knife, another an iron rod, and the third had only his bare hands, but his eyes were full of lethal madness.

I threw myself into the fray, every strike I delivered was deadly, every movement precise and lethal.

The first prisoner's knife grazed my face, but I hit him with a punch that broke his neck.

The second tried to hit me with the rod, but I dodged and drove my weapon into his chest.

The third, with surprising speed, hit me in the face, but with a fluid motion, I grabbed him and broke his spine with a single blow.

The floor was covered in blood and corpses.

My breath was ragged, but there was no time to rest.

Another prisoner, gigantic and covered in scars, appeared before me. He wielded an enormous sword, too large to be handled by a normal person.

But this was no ordinary prisoner.

With a beastly roar, he lunged at me.

I barely blocked the first strike, feeling my bones shake under the impact. The second strike grazed my side, cutting deeply.

But my regeneration was still in progress, and the wound closed almost instantly.

With a scream of defiance, I attacked with all my strength.

My weapon met his flesh, cutting deeply.

The giant roared in pain but didn't stop.

He struck again and again, each blow a mortal attack that I could only parry thanks to my newfound resistance.

Finally, with a powerful strike, I managed to bring him to his knees, and with a final move, I beheaded him.

Silence finally fell over the prison. My body was a tangle of pain and adrenaline, but I was still standing.

I looked at the bodies scattered around me, the blood flowing in dark rivulets.

My regeneration had been an unexpected blessing, but I knew the real threat was still ahead of me.

With one last look at the devastation I had left behind, I headed toward the lower levels, ready to uncover the truth.

The next corridor was immersed in oppressive darkness, broken only by faint flickering lights.

Every step I took seemed to echo endlessly as I ventured deeper into the heart of the prison.

The walls were damp and covered in moss, a clear sign of the total lack of maintenance in these depths.

My wounds continued to throb despite the regeneration.

Every step was an act of pure will, but I had to keep going.

Suddenly, a group of prisoners appeared from the shadows, armed with makeshift weapons.

Their appearance was preceded by a war cry that echoed through the walls.

With a deep breath, I prepared for the inevitable clash.

The first prisoner attacked me with a spear made of wood and rusty metal.

I dodged the blow with a quick lateral movement, grabbing the spear and breaking it in two.

With a fluid motion, I turned the broken piece against him, driving it into his chest.

His cry of pain quickly faded as he fell to the ground.

Another prisoner, armed with a large hammer, lunged at me. His strike was powerful but slow.

I managed to dodge the first blow, but the second hit me glancingly, sending a wave of pain down my back.

With a roar of rage, I threw myself at him, grabbing the hammer and tearing it from his hand.

With a devastating blow, I brought him down, smashing his skull.

A prisoner with a dagger tried to catch me by surprise, but my honed reflexes prevailed.

Grabbing his wrist, I twisted his arm until I heard a sharp crack, followed by a scream of pain.

With a decisive blow, I finished him off, letting his lifeless body fall to the ground.

The battle continued, an incessant succession of violence and blood.

Every prisoner I defeated seemed to be replaced by two more, as if the prison itself were a living entity regenerating its inhabitants.

My wounds constantly regenerated, but the pain and fatigue were starting to take their toll.

Despite everything, I continued to fight with fierce determination, knowing that stopping meant dying.