Captured (3)

The interrogation continued like this for an hour, with the Warlord's questions becoming personal as they focused on Aurora. He asked about her strengths and skills—the ones she had, usable and locked. Her strengths raised additional questions. Right after, he asked what her weaknesses were, of which she was unaware, making her somewhat grateful.

It was for her to learn, as it should have been, or for Amia to point out. Since he knew her weaknesses, he would exploit them, taking advantage of her skills and knowledge. She pried her mouth shut, but it opened anyway. Dark energy wasn't an option, and so she resorted to weaving lies into her words.

Failure. When she answered, she lost control of her mouth. While in between questions, she had no trouble speaking. She tried to run, but her legs remained still, and when she tried to grab the armrests to throw herself onto the floor, her arms remained on her thighs. Each attempt she made failed, except for her head, which left her immobile. She glanced at Amia.

Amia shook her head. Nothing.

Their skills and centuries of knowledge were useless. Amia, a psychic, had no contingencies against it—not any without dark energy. Aurora didn't want to admit it, but he won. A one-sided victory. Of all Aurora's weaknesses, this was the worst. If she survived, she would make sure to eliminate it before anyone else could exploit it.

Aurora stopped struggling; her will was as strong as ever, despite her futile efforts. To combat it, she needed to know his skill and tap into her dark energy.

She scrutinized the Warlord, searching for a gap in his skills and focusing on his speech patterns. Such as if he worded each question in the same manner when she resisted. Before, during, and after a question, she tested him.

The interrogation continued uninterrupted for another two hours. For him to dominate them for this long, he needed to have complete control over them and substantial reserves. But no matter how well he did it, she found some limitations. Two, to be precise. He could make several orders at once, but they couldn't contradict each other. For instance, ordering someone to stop interrupting while also ordering them to talk could nullify both orders, although this was speculative. And second, the Warlord could manipulate the words she spoke, imprinting lies as truths.

"Let me clarify." The Warlord interlaced his fingers. "You want us to help you kill the vampires?"

"Not un—" Aurora tried to speak, but her mouth interrupted her. "Yes."

"And in exchange, you are giving 'Bane of Existences' to the vampires and any race we desire." Finished the Warlord, pretending she hadn't interrupted. "Doesn't it strike you as brazen and foolish to offer? You're providing us with the tools for war against the lowlands and possibly the middle and highlands. It sounds good. But what you want is too little. What else do you want?"

"A place to stay and protect us."

"You..." the Warlord shook his head, speechless. "Are you sure that's all?"

"That's n—"

"Yes." Her mouth interrupted.

Aurora clenched her fist.

"We have a deal." He smiled. "You'll live in the cells."

"Cells?" Aurora shouted. At this point, she didn't care if she insulted him. The man deserved it. "We made a deal. You protect and provide shelter in exchange for—"

"Apologize."

"I'm sorry." She dug her fingers into her palm.

"I'll explain." The Warlord continued in a smug tone. "I agreed to the deal, but you requested protection and accommodation. The first comes with your stay here. The second is that you said accommodation, never what kind, so the cells will do, and since you're willing to talk back, the cuffs can stay on. Perhaps you will receive better accommodation once you show respect and earn my trust."

"How will I craft them with these?" Aurora lifted her hands, displaying her cuffs.

"When we're ready, we'll take them off." He said. "Now, go on, leave. I have things to do."

"But—"

The Warlord gestured, and their chairs slinged to the entrance of the chamber.

Their chairs stopped, throwing them onto the floor outside the chamber. Aurora landed hard on her stomach and gazed back. The chairs turned into a stone wall, preventing further entry. She clenched her fist hard and punched the wall.

Two cracks echoed, and she glanced at her hand. She had four deep, nail-shaped holes in her palm, three broken fingers, and a broken wrist.

****

The musty and decrepit air in the prison had become the norm for Aurora, no longer stifling her nose, and her hand had healed to its prime state. Since meeting the Warlord and returning to their cell, no zombies or knights have come for them, allowing them to do as they pleased.

Aurora and Amia tried to break out of the cuffs and inspect them. In their attempt to break out, they were unsuccessful, but they found success in examining it. The cuffs had a dark energy circuit inscribed into the sides adjacent to where the chain met. They tried inserting dark energy, but before it entered, they lost control. After repeated attempts, they learned the circuit was the source of the cuff effect.

"Ugh…" Aurora observed Amia finish her tenth push-up. After a day with the cuffs on, their bodies grew stiff, which they relieved through exercises.

Amia distracted her.

No luck.

Besides searching for ways to destroy the cuffs, they entertained additional mental and physical activities such as sex, though neither found enjoyment in it, and regretted going back against their words spoken in Lethia's cave. Their bodies lacked desire, with no heart to pump blood or release chemicals to the brain. No attraction or attachment to anything. Although her body lacked it, her soul did.

Aurora decided to end her inspection of the cuffs there. Stress wouldn't help in their situation.

She untangled her legs from their criss-crossed position and stretched them. She reached for her toes. After stretching her legs, back, arms, and neck, she did a few push-ups and the plank before focusing her attention on Amia. Amia sat, leaning against the wall, eyes closed, and mind elsewhere.

"What else?" Aurora asked.

"Not much," Amia said, opening her eyes. "We've tried for days, but our progress is going nowhere with our limited access to dark energy. We need..." she exhaled, cutting herself off.

"What?"

"Nothing… Do you have a plan to escape?"

"With these cuffs?"

Amia nodded.

"I have nothing."

"We can break through the doors. They're rusted and lack dark energy." Amia suggested.

Out of options.

"Where are we, underground or aboveground, and do they have zombies or traps guarding? We can't be certain without more information—fuck this." Aurora disliked swearing, but since their capture—no, even before that. Since their arrival in this forsaken world, the urge to rose.

"Fu-hucka?" Amia said, frowning.

"First time?" Aurora laughed and sprawled on the floor. At least today, amidst a dozen losses, something interesting emerged from their struggle. A Succubus not knowing a word related to their innate specialty, who would've thought?

[The system's translator malfunctioned. Let me fix it.] Alex said. [That, there—]

Keep it.

[Why? It's a bug.]

Fix it later.

[Fine.]

Where were you?

[Sleeping…] Alexa yawned. [Did you need me? I watched what happened.]

Can you resist the Warlord's skill?

[Maybe. I'll need to see it in action again. That would be simple for you. Rile them, and he'll use it against you.]

"I'd die."

[No—] Aurora ignored her. Alexa returned, bringing her monologues to spoil the mood.

Amia kept swearing without knowing the meaning, attempting to improve her speech. To aid her, Aurora repeated the word, correcting her errors, and she made progress. Amia learned a new English word, shattering the previously unknown language barrier between them.

Footsteps thudded outside the cell, ending their session of swearing. Aurora perked her head up towards the window, where an armored figure obstructed the view—a familiar face—the lean knight who led them earlier. The cell's lock clicked, and the door opened.

"Aurora, follow me."