( WARNING:
This chapter contains scenes of intense violence, gore, and psychological distress. It is not intended for sensitive readers.)
It healed. The man looked pleased—no, more than pleased. His lips slowly curled into something unnatural, something almost reverent, as if he were witnessing a miracle meant only for him. Then he started laughing, low at first, before spiraling into something unhinged.
"Hahahaha… HAHAHAHA… hehehe…"
"We will have a good time together. A long, good time, heh…" the man said, his eyes fixed on Kaisel as though he were no longer a person—but a possession.
Kaisel felt a chill crawl down his spine, cold and suffocating. His body refused to move the way he wanted, his instincts screaming at him to run—yet he couldn't.
"What… what is going on here?! Release me!!" he shouted, his voice straining, a hint of panic breaking through.
The man's smile stretched wider, almost inhuman. "No… no can do. You are very good experimental material—something quite rare." He tilted his head slightly, observing Kaisel like a specimen. "So… no. can. do…"
Then the man turned his head to the side, as if remembering something trivial.
"You really got something good this time, Gary."
The words were casual. Too casual.
Kaisel's breath hitched as footsteps echoed closer. A figure stepped into view—and the moment Kaisel saw him, his heart dropped.
It was him.
The same man who had come begging. The one who spoke of a missing son. The one who looked so desperate… so human.
Kaisel's eyes widened in disbelief.
"You! You said your son was taken!"
Gary didn't answer immediately. His face, once filled with grief, now looked… different. Hollow. Greedy. His eyes lingered on Kaisel, not with guilt—but with calculation.
"I've already done everything you asked," Gary said, turning to the man. "Now you have to take me in. I seek power too."
There was a brief silence.
"Hmm… yes, yes…" the man muttered, almost absentmindedly. "I will take you in."
For a split second, relief flickered across Gary's face.
Then—
Spleesh.
The sound was wet. Sudden.
Gary's body jerked violently as an iron sword burst through his chest, the blade protruding from the other side. His breath hitched, eyes wide in shock—confusion replacing every ounce of certainty he had just seconds ago.
Before he could even process it—
A knife slid cleanly across his throat.
"Cough… why…?"
Blood spilled out in thick, choking bursts, staining his lips, his chest, his hands as he instinctively tried to hold himself together. His knees buckled.
His body hit the ground.
Plop.
The sound echoed in the suffocating silence that followed.
Standing behind him was another man, cloaked in black. Younger. Calm. His pale skin contrasted sharply with the dark fabric, and strange inscription-like tattoos ran across his forehead and arms, faintly visible beneath the dim light.
"Why?" the man repeated, almost amused. "You're no longer needed, my friend."
He stepped forward, nudging Gary's lifeless body slightly with his foot.
"You lured people into traps for me. You even gave me your son—well, you said he was your late brother's son, was it?" He let out a soft chuckle. "Well, whatever."
His gaze slowly shifted to Kaisel.
"And now… you've found me this gem. A body with such a great regenerative ability…"
There was a pause—long enough for the weight of those words to sink in.
"So now, you are no longer needed." His voice turned colder. "All that's left is to alter the minds of your fellow townsfolk… and I can continue my experiments in peace… for some time."
Then he turned fully toward Kaisel.
From within his cloak, he pulled out a syringe—a glass barrel filled with a strange, faintly shimmering liquid. It caught the light in an unnatural way, almost alive.
Kaisel's breathing grew uneven. His body tensed, every instinct screaming danger.
"You… what are you going to do?" he asked, his voice no longer steady.
The man didn't answer.
He simply stepped closer.
Then—without hesitation—he drove the needle straight into Kaisel's neck.
Pain exploded through his body.
It wasn't just physical—it burned, spread, crawled beneath his skin like something alive. Kaisel gasped, his vision shaking violently as the world around him began to blur.
The man's face was the last thing he saw—watching, observing… fascinated.
The sounds around him faded.
The light dimmed.
And then—
Everything went black.
....
"Ahhhh!"
Kaisel jolted awake, his body snapping upright against whatever restraints held him. The scream still echoed in his ears—raw, broken, unmistakably human. It sounded like a woman.
It didn't stop.
Another scream followed, louder this time, tearing through the air like something being ripped apart. It wasn't just pain—it was despair, the kind that clawed at the mind.
Kaisel's breathing quickened. His eyes darted around, struggling to focus in the dim, flickering light. The air smelled thick—metallic and suffocating. The smell of blood.
The screams continued.
Sometimes sharp. Sometimes weak. Sometimes reduced to hoarse sobs that barely resembled a voice anymore.
Then—footsteps were heard. The sound of them grew louder until a figure emerged from the shadows, stepping into the faint light. It was the same man with the slightly disfigured face.
Kaisel swallowed hard, his throat dry.
"What… what are you doing here…?" he managed to ask, his voice trembling.
The man looked at him for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, a faint smile formed.
"Tell me," he said softly, tilting his head, "have you ever heard of the Crimson Court?"
"The Crimson Court…"
Kaisel's eyes widened instantly.
Of course he had.
The Crimson Court—it is the most feared and worst group of black magicians out there. Even other black magicians are wary of them due to their experiments and rituals, which include human sacrifices in the most grotesque ways. No one knows what their goal is. It is led by the most wanted black magician in the current empire.
His chest tightened.
The man's smile deepened, as if savoring that reaction.
"Good," he murmured. "Saves me the trouble of explaining."
He stepped closer. From his cloak, he drew out another syringe—larger this time, filled with a darker liquid that seemed to pulse faintly.
Kaisel tried to pull back, but the restraints held firm.
"Wait—"
Before he could finish his words, the needle plunged into his flesh.
Pain surged instantly, sharper than before, spreading like fire through his veins. Kaisel gasped, his body arching against the restraints as something inside him twisted, shifted—changed.
He barely had time to breathe before it began.
Cold metal pressed against his skin.
Then—cut.
A sharp, precise incision was made on his thighs.
Kaisel screamed.
The pain was immediate, brutal—but what came after was worse. He felt it. He was cutting off pieces of his flesh.. Then he collected the blood as it poured out.
And then—the blood stopped.
The next second, it began to heal. His flesh knitted back together, skin pulling closed as if nothing had happened.
The man chuckled softly.
"Fascinating…"
Then he cut again, repeating the process on his other limbs. The pain was unbearable.
Hours passed. Or maybe minutes.
Kaisel couldn't tell anymore. Time blurred into an endless cycle of pain—cut, tear, heal, and repeat. His throat grew raw from screaming, his voice breaking until only hoarse gasps remained. After cutting off flesh, the man began to amputate his limbs. The platform on which Kaisel was tied down was drenched in dark red blood.
He tried to pass out. He wanted to pass out.
But he couldn't.
The injections—whatever they were—kept dragging him back, forcing his mind to stay awake.
The man stopped after who knows how long.
Then he came back again, after hours, and did the same. Sometimes with the younger man—the one who killed Gary—taking the flesh and blood somewhere.
Sometimes screams could be heard. Sometimes they were of a man, sometimes a woman… or a child. He didn't know.
At certain times, the younger man came to Kaisel—not to cut him, but to feed him. His hands gripped Kaisel's jaw, prying his mouth open. Then raw meat—warm, dripping—was shoved inside. He didn't know what kind of meat it was. Kaisel gagged, trying to turn away, but they didn't let him.
"Eat."
The command was cold.
He resisted at first.
Then they made sure he couldn't.
More injections—some of which left his body paralyzed. His body betrayed him, swallowing despite his mind screaming no. The taste was unbearable—metallic, thick—making his stomach churn violently.
But he couldn't throw up. They wouldn't let him.
The cycle continued.
Cut. Heal. Feed. Inject. Repeat.
He wished they would inject something to reduce the pain—but no, they didn't. What they injected only seemed to amplify it.
Slowly, Kaisel's thoughts began to fracture.
It hasn't even been two months since I left home… and I'm in this state.
I came to find the culprits behind my mother's death… to become stronger…
What was I thinking…
Pain became constant—something that no longer came and went, but simply was.
Then one day—
It changed.
To be continued.