Three Winners

Scarlett showed no mercy. The tortures seemed endless—bone-crushing blows, skin-peeling agony, relentless beatings, and countless other unimaginable methods.

Each form of torture lasted no more than fifteen minutes before she moved on to the next, but for Luna and Lysander, those minutes stretched into eternity. Time itself felt like a cruel tormentor, dragging every second out in unbearable detail.

Lorien and his wife could do nothing but watch. They were bound by chains of both metal and helplessness, unable to intervene as their parents suffered.

Surprisingly, throughout this brutal spectacle, Lorien himself remained untouched. Not a single whip, no iron rod, not even a slap was directed at him. The only evidence of his suffering was the older injuries he had borne before this ordeal.

Why?

Because Scarlett had already tried to break him through physical torture, but Lorien had refused to yield. His resilience had been unshakable, a testament to the strength of his noble soul.

So Scarlett, ever cunning, shifted her tactics. She abandoned the idea of breaking him physically and turned her focus to his mind. Watching his loved ones endure unspeakable pain, knowing he was powerless to save them, was a far more effective way to shatter his spirit. And her strategy was working—his resolve, though hidden behind a stoic face, was beginning to crack.

The torment continued for hours. More than three had passed since this nightmare began.

When such gruesome spectacles are held—especially in the form of public executions or torture—it's common for some in the audience to leave. Whether out of fear, pity, or simply disgust at the sheer ruthlessness, most would eventually walk away.

But here?

Not a single person had left.

In fact, the opposite happened. The crowd only grew larger as time went on.

This was the true nature of humanity laid bare. Beneath layers of morality and empathy lurked a primal curiosity and a hunger for the suffering of others.

Some in the crowd felt a fleeting pang of pity but quickly replaced it with thoughts of relief, the kind of relief that brought a twisted sense of comfort:

"Thank the heavens it isn't me."

Others openly cheered, their voices dripping with spiteful glee:

"Serves them right! This is exactly what should happen to a traitor!"

And then, there were those who felt a deeper, more satisfying sense of vindication. Their eyes gleamed with hidden pleasure as they murmured:

"Seeing these royals being punished like commoners—it's about time. Now they'll finally understand how it feels to be powerless, just like us commoners under their rule."

Scarlett knew this. She understood this darker side of humanity and played to it. This wasn't just an execution—it was a performance designed to feed the audience's thirst for schadenfreude, their joy at the misfortune of others.

Finally, the tortures came to an end. Scarlett leaned back, stretching her arms, her face lighting up with a satisfied smile.

"Phew! That was fun," she said with an exaggerated sigh of relief. Her tone was playful, almost childlike. "According to your votes, I tried out a lot of tortures, and it seems three of them were the most popular. But now there's a little problem…"

She paused dramatically, pacing back and forth across the stage as if deep in thought. Her shoes clicked against the wooden planks, each sound echoing in the tense silence.

"We have three final contenders!" she announced, gesturing to the crowd with a flourish. "But… what should I do? Who deserves to be crowned the winner?"

Scarlett rubbed her chin, her expression the picture of mock seriousness. She tapped her foot, letting the crowd stew in suspense.

Suddenly, her eyes lit up, Though audience can't see it because if blindfold, she snapped her fingers like she'd just stumbled upon the world's greatest idea. Turning to Cassie, Lorien's wife, who was bound and trembling, Scarlett's grin widened.

"How about this?" she said, clapping her hands together in excitement. "Why don't we make all three of them winners? Yes, that's perfect!"

She turned to the crowd, her tone light and cheerful, as though she were suggesting something as innocent as a group game. But her words cut through the air like a blade.

"All three winners can do whatever they want with her. Let's make it a perfect gangbang! Oh, and be sure to impregnate her, won't you?"

The casual cruelty in her voice sent shivers down spines. The playful way she spoke only made her words more chilling, as if she truly believed this was a brilliant, fun idea.

The crowd collectively gasped. Not out of pity for Cassie—no, that wasn't the reason. Their shock was born from curiosity and envy. They were eager to know who the lucky winners were, who would get the chance to indulge in such depravity.

Jealous murmurs rippled through the gathering, especially from those who had chosen not to participate in the voting. Regret flickered across their faces as they realized their inaction had cost them a chance at Scarlett's twisted prize.

"I should've written something," one man muttered under his breath.

"What if my suggestion had won?" another whispered, his fists clenched in frustration.

Scarlett snapped her fingers again to draw their attention. "All right, let's announce the winners, shall we?"

She raised a hand theatrically, letting the tension build. "The first winner is… Ryan Ronald! He suggested the chainsaw torture!"

A skinny man in the crowd froze for a moment before his face lit up with disbelief. "Me? Me?! That's me!" he shouted, his voice breaking with excitement.

Ryan, dressed in worn leather armor, pushed his way through the crowd, grinning from ear to ear. Despite his thin frame and average features, he walked with a swagger, his nerves betrayed only by his trembling hands.

The crowd murmured, some clapping half-heartedly, while others scowled in envy.

"And now for the second winner…" Scarlett paused for effect, squinting at the slip of paper in her hand. "Lily Caster?" She tilted her head, puzzled. "Wait, a woman?"

For a moment, the crowd fell silent, equally confused. But then, a young woman with a fair complexion and delicate features stepped forward. She had soft white skin and wore a flowing yellow frock that shimmered under the light.

"That's me!" Lily called out, her voice steady despite the rush of excitement in her eyes.

Scarlett raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Well, well. Didn't see that coming." She studied Lily with a curious smile. "And here I thought only the men would be interested in this little game."

The truth was, Lily was bisexual with interest in both men and women. To her, this wasn't just an opportunity; it was a dream come true. Cassie, with her beauty and grace, was the kind of woman Lily had always fantasized about.

She hurried onto the stage, her steps light and eager. The crowd watched her in stunned silence, some whispering in disbelief while others exchanged knowing smirks.

Scarlett chuckled, clearly amused. "Looks like we've got quite the variety in our winners. Who's going to be the third, I wonder?"

She held the last slip of paper aloft, a wicked gleam in her eyes as she prepared to reveal the final name.

"The next winner is none other than… the new King of Gwarga… Your Majesty, Leonidas!"

At those words, an almost unnatural silence fell over the crowd. It was as though the very air had been sucked out of the room.

Every face turned blank, their expressions frozen in a mixture of disbelief and confusion. Even Lórien, who had been crying moments earlier, suddenly stopped. His tears dried on his cheeks as his breath hitched in his throat.

"What…?" Lórien whispered, his voice trembling. He stared at Scarlett in stunned silence, as though hoping he had misheard her.

But Scarlett's playful smirk and the amused glint behind her blindfold confirmed the truth.

Leonidas? The king himself?

The weight of the revelation sank heavily into Lórien's chest. Leonidas was his father's younger brother, his uncle. By extension, he was Cassie's father-in-law. The betrayal hit harder than any blade.

Before anyone could react, from the back of the crowd, a shadow began to move. It was a figure that had been quietly watching the entire event with a peculiar, detached amusement.

Leonidas.

The king stepped forward, his tall frame exuding a calm, commanding presence. He carried himself with the arrogance of someone who knew the world was his for the taking. His piercing eyes locked onto Lórien, who stood rooted to the spot, unable to move.

"U-Uncle…?" Lórien's voice cracked as he spoke, barely above a whisper. "Aren't we on the same side?"

His emotions swirling in a chaotic storm—confusion, betrayal, anger, and even desperation.

Leonidas didn't say a word. He simply stared back, meeting Lórien's gaze with cold, unblinking eyes.

Then, slowly, his lips curled into a wide, malicious smirk.

It wasn't just a smile. It was a declaration—a silent, chilling confirmation of his betrayal.

That smirk was all it took to shatter Lórien completely.

The realization struck him like a thunderclap. His knees wobbled as the truth unraveled before him. From the very beginning, Leonidas had been working against him. The schemes, the manipulation, the betrayal—it all pointed to one person. His own uncle, the man he trusted like a second father, was the real traitor.

His mouth hung open, his breathing uneven. His vision blurred with tears he could no longer hold back. The pain was too much—far worse than any physical torture he had endured. It was as if his soul had been ripped apart.

Lórien staggered backward, his legs giving out beneath him. The crowd gasped as he collapsed to the ground, unconscious.