Malak

Kyrexiel stiffened, he stumbled but he caught himself just in time. "What?"

"Better be careful and don't send what's on your head flying. He'll eat you alive you know." He snorted.

"What did you say? Survival of the dark room?" Kyrexiel asked. Panic and excitement were trapped in his voice. It was the least of wherever he was expecting.

"Yes," the man's voice carried a touch of amusement. "I know a lot of you young ones have created some kind of myth about him, that he's savage and mad."

The man paused for dramatic silence. "But you're wrong. He's much more worse."

A chill touched Kyrexiel's spine and he stiffened. "What are you saying?"

"Malak, that's his name. He's much worse than you can imagine. You see, the dark room changed him. It turned his head. He's mad. I say Master would have put him down all these years if he's not so useful but he's his strongest weapon."

"Don't look into his eyes," the man shuddered. "It's as if several people looking at you. Thankfully we're not late for his food, no killing tonight. I hope."

Kyrexiel stopped cold. "What do you mean I should not look into his eyes?" He grimaced, already knowing what was happening. "It's not like I'm going near him."

"You are." The old slave said flatly. He stopped too and then pointed at the door in front of him. It was just like the other brown wooden doors they had passed.

"Why should I?" Kyrexiel challenged, he narrowed his eyes at the old man. It wasn't in his plan to enter a room of a tier four madman.

The man finally turned to him. "Because you should not be here. I've gotten a feel of your tier as we walk here. You are in tier one and all in that tier should be in the marked prison."

Kyrexiel took several steps back, he was prepared to throw the tray of food at the man and make a run for it but still, the man before him was in tier two and would easily take him down. 'But maybe I can distract him if I throw the food directly into his eyes'

The old slave raised his hands. "I don't care. Do what you want but I'll tell you this for free. You can't escape from here. You are bound for the dark room, that is if Orso doesn't kill you first."

"Even if you are not, then you will wear the collar," he pointed at his own. "It's enchanted. So no escaping here. Ever."

"What does that have to do with what we are doing here?"

"Say what, I'll walk away if you go in to feed Malak. I will even feed wrong information. It buys you time. Just give him his food and come out, then you can do whatever you want. We never met or spoke."

Kyrexiel hesitated. It seems like a trap. It must be a trap. The man must have known halfway through and still led him here, probably so Kyrexiel would go in to give this mad Malak food.

Kyrexiel studied the slave. 'Did I have a choice? If I refuse now then this slave will raise the alarm but going inside might also mean death since Malak is said to be mad'

The slave tapped his feet to the ground. "Well? I'll keep guard here until you are done. Then you can go our separate ways."

Kyrexiel sighed. "Alright." The slave opened the door for him and with a quick prayer to stormgod, he went in. The old slave closed the door behind him with a click.

The room inside was dark, lit by a blue light that barely cut the dark. Kyrexiel waited, getting his heart to steady. The room was surprisingly big and held little furniture.

A large low table and some chairs. It looked like a bigger, personalized prison room.

"A new toy? Come closer." A voice said and Kyrexiel swung his eyes forward. He was shocked that he hadn't seen the man before now, he was seated in front of the low table.

He shuddered at at the voice. Malak's voice was like teeth on skin. Kyrexiel began to walk closer to the man who survived the room that killed others.

The closer he got the more he felt the difference in their tiers like a physical weight on him. The aura that sips out of him, the bloodlust that surrounded Malak made Kyrexiel's gut to curl.

Finally, he brought the tray down, careful not to spill the contents. And then he made the mistake of looking up, he flinched when he saw Malak.

The man was chalk white, blad and with eyes that shone pink, he smiled and flashed his fangs. A black collar, like a tattoo coiled around his neck.

Kyrexiel bowed and hurried back but his voice stopped him cold. "And where are you going?"

Kyrexiel stopped, stiffened. He didn't like that tone one bit but he turned and said nothing, staring at Malak at the shoulder.

Malak snorted. "This new toy is braver than all the others. You even looked at me. Most would be down to the floor with fear. Piss and shit following soon after."

"But you are maintaining your composure well. Almost as if you don't feel fear. Almost. Look at me, my toy."

Kyrexiel did. Malak's eyes are shining bright and a smile turned his lips up. "But you do feel fear don't you? I can smell it. It curls around you, winding you tight. Oh my! What will come out when I bust that?! What!"

His sudden explosive outburst made Kyrexiel take steps back. The man was smiling and his eyes were shining with a feverish light. "How wonderful! Oh! Oh! To see a young toy to me! Orso, you are indeed a good master!"

His panic overwhelmed him then and Kyrexiel turned and ran. But the air shifted and standing in front of him now was Malak with a grin on his lips. "Why run? I know just how to not break a toy. Most times."