Chapter 16: Torture [2]

Chapter 16: Torture [2]

Soon after, Demitas was forcibly dragged towards the torture chamber, a mixed atmosphere enveloped the surrounding slaves. Some pitied him, their hearts heavy with empathy for the impending pain and suffering he would endure. On the other hand, there were those who celebrated his capture, their eyes gleaming with satisfaction as they witnessed the removal of a formidable adversary.

While Demitas was forcibly dragged by his captors, the evidence of his brutal mistreatment was starkly visible. His hands, clenched tightly in their grasp, showed signs of bloodied wounds and abrasions. With each step, his feet scraped against the rough surface, leaving behind a trail of blood.

His face bore the marks of the violence inflicted upon him. Blood dripped from his mouth, staining his chin and clothing, while his nose, too, released a crimson stream.

Blindfolded and unable to see his surroundings, Demitas was left to rely solely on his instincts and the harsh sensations assaulting his body. He could sense the unevenness of the path beneath him, the jagged edges and scattered debris that seemed to conspire against him. Every jolt and pull sent waves of pain radiating through his limbs, a constant reminder of the brutal force being exerted upon him.

As he was dragged deeper into the abyss, the foul smell seemed to grow stronger, enveloping him like a suffocating shroud. It was as if the remnants of death and decay were scattered throughout the chamber, their pungent presence a constant reminder of the cruel fate that awaited him.

The putrid scent clung to the surroundings, permeating the space like a festering wound, its origins a gruesome mystery hidden in the shadows.The nauseating combination of metallic tang and rotting flesh assaulted his senses, intensifying the feeling of confinement and despair. The lingering scent conjured images of forgotten carcasses, decomposing in hidden corners, their decaying remnants serving as a haunting backdrop to his nightmarish journey.

Demitas was forcefully pinned against the cold, unforgiving wall, his bare skin pressed against the rough texture of the brick. Stripped of his clothes, he felt vulnerable and exposed, the chill of the surface seeping into his body, amplifying his discomfort. The sensation served as a stark reminder of his powerlessness in this grim and torturous place.

As if to further torment him, icy water was abruptly splashed onto his face, jolting him out of his thoughts. The shock of the cold liquid engulfed his senses, momentarily stealing his breath and leaving him panting for air.

The combination of the cold wall against his back and the harsh assault of the water on his face intensified his physical and emotional torment. Each sensation was a calculated act of cruelty, designed to break his spirit and inflict maximum suffering.

Demitas was subjected to a torment beyond imagination as his hellish torture began. He was forcefully immersed in a drum filled with water, completely submerged and deprived of the precious air he desperately needed to survive.

Minutes stretched into an eternity as he fought against the instinctual urge to gasp for air. The pressure on his chest intensified, and his body screamed for oxygen. Just as he was on the brink of losing consciousness, he was abruptly pulled out of the water, gasping for breath in desperate gulps. Each session pushed him to the limits of his endurance, leaving him drained physically and emotionally.

As the sound of whips cracked through the air, Demitas couldn't help but feel the weight of demoralization pressing down upon him. He reminded himself of the choices he had made, the path he had chosen to follow. Demitas held onto the conviction that he had made the right decision.

Whapak! Whapak!

"Hehehe, hey slave. Are you still awake? Don't sleep while we whip your ass. Hey! A slave like you should answer me!" he bellowed.

Demitas remained steadfast in his silence, refusing to grant his torturer the satisfaction of a response. He knew that engaging in conversation would only waste his precious energy, energy that he needed to endure the impending torment.

While the torturer initiated the agonizing process, Demitas braced himself for the onslaught. As if on cue, he became acutely aware of the System's gaze fixed on him, watching his every move with a dispassionate eye.

[Tsk tsk tsk, look how you've fallen. Now you are just a body of meat for torture.]

Whapak!

[Ooof, that hurts]

Whapak!

[That too]

Whapak!

[Wow, so crisp!]

Demitas was agitated and gritting his teeth with every slash. 'Shut up!' he snapped.

[Oh, must be tickling you. Does it hurt?]

Whapak!

'Of course you idiot!'

[If you had not helped your brother in the first place, you would not be suffering like this. Why must humans be too dumb? Selflessness without power is for idiots, but with absolute power, nothing will stop you.]

[Well, enjoy the torture. You deserve it.]

As the pain intensified and the realization of the System's apparent indifference sank in, Demitas felt a surge of frustration and anger building within him.

'Damn, you!'

He cursed the System, feeling a sense of betrayal and abandonment in that moment. Yet, amidst his anger, Demitas acknowledged the truth of his situation. He had willingly chosen this path, fully aware of the risks and consequences. The System had presented him with an opportunity, but it did not guarantee a smooth or easy journey.

While the days turned into a seemingly endless stretch of torment, Demitas found himself subjected to an array of cruel and torturous methods. Time, once a familiar concept, seemed to lose its meaning within the confines of his agonizing existence.

Soon, as the door creaked open, a sudden flood of blinding light pierced through Demitas' weary eyes. Blinking rapidly to adjust to the sudden change, he gradually made out the silhouette of a figure standing before him. The contours of her form hinted at a feminine allure, shrouded in the hazy glow of the surrounding brightness. Though just from where he stood, he could smell her perfume and body odor.

The scent that wafted towards him mingled delicately in the air, a subtle blend of lavender and milk. As the figure approached, Demitas could hear the soft tap-tap of footsteps against the floor, resonating in the otherwise quiet chamber.

"Is he ready now?" she spoke in a captivating voice, her words resonating with a hint of authority.

As Demitas's gaze met hers, he found himself locked in a mesmerizing stare. Her slender fingers delicately grazed his chin, causing a tingle to run down his spine.

Without warning, her lips pressed against his, catching Demitas off guard. The unexpectedness of the moment left him questioning the intentions behind her actions.

"Liked it? I am your fan!"

"…"