War: Part 3

[Content Warning: Torture]

I slipped down to the dungeons. The sound of Misty screaming led me to his cage. The skeletons had removed all of his armor, destroying it piece by piece. What remained was a misty humanoid, screaming in agony without respite. Since he didn't need to inhale, it was a single piercing tone. Apparently, he never went hoarse. I looked him in the face while he thrashed in his magic binding. "Please, monster king! Kill me!"

"Where's the fun in that? You give my dungeon the right atmosphere. Nice ambient noise. It would be all right to take a breath, once and again. But other than that, you're doing as good a job as could be expected from one in your position." The sound was piercing, but it had the perfect effect. One knew this was a place of torment just from being here. The more he screamed, the deeper in the stone that ambience would be written, the more beautiful my dungeon became. I hop-skipped a few cells down the hall, stopping when I saw the face of my progeny. Alone with twelve featureless lumps of stone larger than a man with the tools to make them into realistic statues cast aside at his feet. "Do you know why he doesn't stop screaming? We haven't done anything to him but take his armor off." He'd had a lot of free time, maybe he spent it researching Heaven.

"His species is a noble one. They cannot be parted from their partners without the urge to avenge them driving them insane. He screams because he cannot move toward vengeance, and that is painful for him." Oblivion had thinned out in his cell. I almost didn't think he'd been down here long enough…then I remembered how long it took to exhaust Lethe last time. He'd been down here plenty long. He didn't look like me anymore. His flesh was a dull gray instead of black and his Mohawk was limp. I hadn't even known players could be deteriorated like that. I was learning all sorts of new things recently. The real question was if it was a mental thing, or if the denial of food when he was so weak was that large of a toll on his form. Eating wasn't actually necessary, stopping didn't even result in feedback, but losing a visceral hobby would be bad for anyone.

I slipped into the cell and leaned against one wall. He was being difficult. That made this so much more fun. "Are you still being obstinate? The silent treatment not working to assure you of the terrible fate in store for you?" I'd heard it was a good idea to keep a victim in the dark and let them imagine their own fate. I was hoping for him to be creative, so that should have been effective.

"Please. Monsters aren't the only ones that can have an unbreakable will. And don't threaten me with the threat of torturing an innocent. There are no innocents in your realm." He sneered at me. He was lacking in so many areas, but I hadn't thought imagination was one of them. Was it possible that all of this effort was in vain? Did he lack the imagination to create species for me to mold to my will?

I reached through a portal spell and grabbed the hair of a woman I'd had Vyktor obtain for me. She hissed and spat, snarling curses at me as I kept her off balance by her hair. "Take a good look, son. What's her cursor tell you?"

His eyes widened as he saw that she was not my vassal. They widened farther when he used the only priest spell I allowed him to use to read her emotions. He could see her genuine hatred and fear of me. He could also see that she was human, none of which lived in my empire. Apart from pixy hosts, but those had mostly been traded for orc or elf bodies. He dropped to his knees, tears welling up in his eyes. "Please, Father, don't do this!"

I ignored his sniveling weakness. I turned to the woman, pulling her head down so she couldn't look down at me. She hissed at the pain, but her eyes spoke only of hatred. It was a shame I couldn't torture her for her own sake. She had enough pride that it would be fun. "Tell me, woman, why you should live to see the night once again? Dare you have the audacity to think you should survive to see a morning?" damn. Had my ascendance into the realm of gods turned me into some self-important bastard like Shakespeare? Was I waxing egregiously pompous in light of my virulent grandeur? For shame!

Mistrust and hope warred in her eyes. Oblivion whimpered as he saw hope winning out. "I have a family. Two daughters, a son, and a loving husband. Sisters. Brothers. A whole family tree." As opposed to everyone else. They popped out of the ground like monsters facing extinction.

Stifling the urge to grin was one I hadn't been good at, but I managed fine this time. I thought it was a good touch that I hadn't put my helmet on. Facial expressions, or the lack thereof, could be used just like any other tool. A helmet had only one expression. I kept my face blank as I shook my head slowly. "You're all citizens of Camelot. I plan to conquer them, murdering a good number of them in the process. One more woman, family, or town matters little in that struggle."

Desperation entered her face. She'd seized hope with both hands. Those with a lot to live for often failed to see false hopes for what they were. "I…what could you possibly want from me, Dark Lord?" she panted, desperately searching for a means to keep herself alive. "I…I could bear your children! My womb has carried children before, I would be honored to bear the child of such a powerful lord!"

"I have a wife already, my dear. She's born me all the children I'll ever have." Trueborn, anyway. I could always have a few bastard npc kids. Or help other players have their kids, which would technically be part me. "Besides, if I wanted to fuck, there are plenty of women in my own city that are much more attractive and only too willing. I'd love to allow you to see the sun rise again, but you've got to give me a good reason." The pain was completely gone from her mind as she struggled to find a chance at life. In normal circumstances, no woman would forget being held by their hair in such an awkward position, but she was succeeding. Impressive. I'd have to remember this as a possible technique to use on Oblivion. Give him hope to crush, making the downfall even more jarring.

She wailed in despair as she wracked her mind, searching for any way out. Finally, a shine appeared in her eyes. "My town. I can promise you my town will not resist when your army comes. Our men may be conscripted, but the town militia will do nothing to stop you." Now…this was interesting. A double agent? I hadn't thought of that. She looked too small, but the idea was a sound one. She might even be worth keeping. Vyktor could use her.

"As I've said before, one town one way or the other...hmm" Then I remembered where her town was. It was a free town, filled with all species. If she could get me slaves for Vyktor to breed…his spies could infiltrate any infrastructure in the world. There were even goblins and dwarves within walking distance of her home. I'd have access to every species, gaining all the racial bonuses the game had to offer. She was attractive enough to act as bait and every species found humans attractive, in general. None who were racially bent on hating them despite attractive features, anyway. "You may have a use, though. Hold on to that thought." I pushed her through a teleport spell into the cell directly across from this one. She stared through the bars. "You may yet see the sun rise. Perhaps even a dozen times. Or more." I shook my head and turned to Oblivion. He was staring at me, hope in his eyes. Did he think I'd spared her out of compassion?

Hope? He dared hope in my prison? Fool! Stifling a smirk was easy this time. He actually hoped I had some compassion in me. Something he could empathize with. I reached into another teleport spell, dragging out a second human woman from Camelot. The hope died in Oblivion's eyes. I grabbed her shoulder and ripped her arm off with one quick motion. It wasn't an eloquent statement, but I needed to gauge just how determined Oblivion was. He winced. At the agony of a single innocent. I ripped off her other arm and kicked her into his lap.

He screamed like a girl and tried to slip aside, but the screaming woman thought him her savior for some reason. She buried her head in his shoulder, crying and screaming for help. Oblivion had cornered himself. He couldn't move anywhere the armless woman couldn't reach him. He patted her head as he cried, wailing almost as much as her. I rushed forward and ripped out her hamstrings. She continued to scream, but she was getting weak. Loss of blood was putting her to sleep.

I activated the torture spell I'd used on so many others already. Red lightning had her back arching, all thought of peaceful death forgotten. A quick spell of healing had her wounds mended, but the pain persisted. Cultist healing was a terrible thing. I amped up the spell, and her arms grew back, which she immediately twined around Oblivion's chest. His eyes spoke only of horror, now. I planted one boot against the middle of her back and grabbed her feet, slowly increasing pressure. Her screams changed their tone as she understood what was coming.

Oblivion looked away, but a quick spell had his head forced forward and his eyes opened. "You will not escape her agony so easily. You will see everything I do to this poor woman." Tears ran down his face as he tried to shake his head. He couldn't resist me in my own keep.

"This is your doing. I have no reason to feel guilty for her suffering. I have no part in it, and as such it does nothing to sway me!" he'd waxed eloquent in his incarceration. I guessed he'd been rehearsing that line the whole time, planning out the perfect words. How much effort had he put into that statement?

What did he think it would accomplish? "You aren't supposed to feel guilt. I don't care about manipulating guilt just yet. This is simple empathy. You see an innocent person in pain, and your first instinct is to stop it. Since you can't, I imagine you're feeling similar to Misty. Impotent agony. Those are the words I'd say fit best right about now. Know your impotence!" I ripped at her legs, but only one came off. I stumbled backwards, pulling the woman off Oblivion by her other leg. I braced my foot against her back before removing the remaining limb. Another Cultist healing did nothing to disperse her pain, but stopped the bleeding. "Every time I hurt her, the healing spell keeps the pain intact. Guess what, it also works on limbs that aren't connected to the body anymore." I hefted one of the removed legs as the woman dragged herself to clutch at Oblivion's legs. I waited for her to climb up his body to put her chin on his shoulder before I released the red lightning that ripped through the torn flesh of her disembodied leg, leaving it smoking. The woman's resulting scream was beautiful. It burst Oblivion's eardrum, since her mouth was so close to his ear. I gave him a taste of Cultist healing so he would understand completely.

Her screams turned to whimpers as I drew the spell on the limb with her own blood. The soft and precise movements probably felt like a caress to her. When I drew the final rune on the top of her leg, all thought of soft sounds was lost. Putting the spell onto the flesh directly allowed it to work best. The leg sparked with red lightning constantly, the bolts never leaving her flesh for long. Her mana fueled the spell, restarting it when it finished until her mana was exhausted as well as her life. The slightest damage would kill her, but Oblivion wouldn't end her suffering. He was too consumed by it to give her mercy.

"Enough!" Oblivion's bellow broke through the woman's screams. "Enough! I yield! Just…stop!" I grinned as I activated a Priest's healing spell. Her cries became whimpers of remembered torment instead of current agony. "I'll do whatever you want. Just…don't do that again." Hah, unbreakable. Lacking in imagination, more like.

"Good. The girl is yours while you make the sculptures I want and then teach my pets to do as you do. Once that is done, I'll kill you. Thank your mother for the mercy of an easy death. I wanted to keep you down here for a few centuries as a message to all those that dare defy me." I walked through another teleport spell to my new citizen of Camelot. Her eyes were wide as she looked up at me. "You are going to get me a male and female of every species for my collection. If you fail, your entire family, as well as yourself, will wish for her treatment." I pointed at the whimpering mess in my son's arms. The woman nodded frantically. Now…what was Vyktor's method? Yeah. I lifted her skirt and wrote a spell of knowing on her vagina using piss as a medium as she tried to keep herself from convulsing with terror. It wasn't quite as effective as blood, but it still worked plenty well. Vyktor usually used blood, since it was more impactful. I figured she was plenty impacted. The spell engraved itself into her flesh as it settled. "Play with this when you have something for me. I'd advise success in a speedy fashion." She whimpered as she nodded. I pushed her through a portal back to her home in Camelot.

"Father!" I turned to see my two nameless children followed by the other three. Htaed was grinning as he saw me, hopefully residual euphoria from hearing Misty's screams and not from the image of seeing me behind bars. "You called for us."

"Yes. We, children, are going hunting." They all grinned at the sound of a good fight. Good. I needed warriors, not pussies like Oblivion.

Lethe appeared from behind them. I'd spent longer on Oblivion than I thought, if she was already awake. "What are we hunting?"

"Angels." I grinned at the brilliance of my plan. I needed angelic vassals and pets if I was going to take Heaven. And now I had the perfect crew to help me get past the first tier. If they passed my test, anyway. And survived long enough to overcome the forces that undoubtedly protected Heaven from all comers. Chances weren't good for them, but I hoped they would prove as valuable as I thought they could be.