Karon was no fool, nor was he the type to be easily convinced. He knew the real killer had not been revealed yet, that this cowardly slave was nothing but bait—or perhaps a desperate attempt by someone to divert suspicion from themselves.
Time passed, and his eyes scanned the remaining slaves, searching for the slightest tremor, the faintest spark of fear. The true killer was here, standing among them, pretending to be just another slave.
He ordered the guards to take the wounded slave to the cell, where he would be interrogated later. Then he turned to the rest, his voice chillingly calm.
"If you think this investigation is over, you are mistaken."
He intended to drag the real killer out of the shadows, but not with questions alone. He needed fear—he needed everyone to understand that no one would leave unscathed until the killer confessed.
"Bring the whip."
A guard hurried forward, carrying a black leather whip, still stained with old blood—perhaps from slaves who had not survived the wrath of the guards before.
Karon walked slowly, staring at the slaves, then raised the whip and lashed it through the air. The sharp crack tore through the silence.
"I will start punishing everyone."
A murmur of fear spread through the slaves. Some began to tremble; others froze completely.
Adrias, standing in the back, did not move. He showed no reaction. He knew this was only part of Karon's psychological game, and he had to remain steady.
"The beating will continue until one of you speaks the truth."
Then, without warning, the whip lashed across one of the slaves. The sound of flesh tearing under the first strike was enough to make some shut their eyes, while the man fell to his knees, screaming in pain.
The second blow landed harder, blood beginning to stain the filthy ground.
Karon was not doing this for pleasure—he was watching the reactions. He wanted to see who would intervene, who would speak, who would betray knowledge of the truth.
A third strike… a fourth… the fifth broke the man entirely, leaving him trembling on the floor, gasping for breath.
Karon paused, then slowly lifted his eyes to the rest.
"Who's next?"
The silence was suffocating.
But Adrias noticed something—one of the slaves was twitching his fingers nervously, as if resisting the urge to speak.
Karon noticed too.
"You."
The slave froze, sweat dripping down his forehead, but he said nothing.
"Come here."
Dragged to the front, he stood before Karon, his body trembling with tension.
"I want to know what you know."
The slave was panting, his eyes darting between the guards and Karon, as if weighing a life-or-death decision.
Then, in a trembling voice, he said:
"My lord… I saw something."
Karon showed no expression, waiting silently.
"Two days ago… I saw… someone moving in the darkness, near the place where the body was found."
Whispers spread among the slaves, as if the revelation had unleashed a deeper terror.
Karon stepped closer, his voice lowering, but becoming more menacing.
"Who was it?"
The slave swallowed hard and whispered:
"I… I don't know. I didn't see the face clearly… but I think it was one of us."
Karon was silent for a moment, then gestured to the guards.
"Take him."
The slave began to scream.
"No! My lord! I told you what I saw!"
But the guards ignored him, dragging him away just as they had done with the first slave.
Karon exhaled slowly, then turned back to the others.
"This means the killer is still among you."
His eyes swept across them one by one.
"And he will be found, sooner or later."
He turned to leave but stopped briefly, speaking in a low voice:
"Prepare yourselves… tonight will be very long."
And after he departed with the guards, the slaves remained in silence. Yet Adrias knew… this was only the beginning of hell.
---
…
…
…
Darkness hung over the mine, but it was not the usual darkness. The air carried something strange, as if vengeful spirits were watching in silence, waiting for something greater to unfold.
Karon was not the kind to ignore such things. He knew this place hid something—something even the guards were unwilling to speak about. Still, he had to solve the mystery, he had to find the killer before chaos erupted.
He stood in the middle of the yard, observing the slaves who still remained silent, their breaths shallow, their eyes avoiding his. Fear filled the air—but it was not ordinary fear. It was something deeper, like the dread that precedes disaster.
"We will begin again."
His voice was calm, but carried an undercurrent of menace. Then he looked at one of the guards.
"Bring the body."
Two guards stepped forward, dragging the corpse covered in old cloth. When it was revealed, many slaves shuddered. It was no ordinary sight.
The dead guard's body was mutilated unnaturally—not just stab wounds, but strange markings across his skin, as though something had toyed with him after death.
Karon bent closer, staring at the fatal wound. The stab was deep, yet the blood around it was not fully dry, as if something had preserved its wetness.
"This is not natural."
He turned to the slaves and asked, his low voice slicing into their bones:
"Who was the last to see this guard alive?"
The silence was crushing. No one dared to speak. Karon had little patience.
He gestured to a guard, speaking coldly:
"Begin random arrests."
The guards lunged, seizing the first three slaves they found and dragging them violently into the center of the yard.
"I will ask again."
Karon's eyes were like those of a predator.
"Who was the last to see this guard alive?"
The three arrested slaves trembled. One wept silently, another bit his lips until they bled.
But the third… was different.
He stared at the corpse, his eyes wide, as if seeing a ghost. Then he began muttering incomprehensible words, as though overtaken by panic.
Karon strode forward, seizing him by the hair and lifting his head. His voice cut like a blade.
"What are you saying? Speak clearly!"
But the man did not respond—he only continued his muttering, until his body began to shake violently.
Suddenly, he screamed.
But it was not a human scream… it was the howl of a beast, something that no human throat should ever produce.
The other slaves recoiled instantly. Even the guards shifted uneasily.
Karon did not move, but his eyes locked on every detail of the man's body as it began to change.
And then, horrifically, his skin began to tear.
It was not a natural transformation. It was as if something inside him was forcing its way out. His bones cracked and reshaped, his face twisted grotesquely, and his teeth grew long and sharp.
"Fall back!" one of the guards shouted, but it was too late.
The creature that had once been a slave raised its head, its eyes glowing a deep crimson, before lunging at the nearest guard and sinking its fangs into his throat.
Blood sprayed. Screams filled the air.
Karon drew his sword instantly, but before he could strike, the creature burst into black dust—and vanished.
The slaves were in chaos, the guards retreating nervously. One of them muttered in a trembling voice:
"This… this is not human."
Karon stood still, silent for a long moment, before speaking in a cold tone:
"The investigation has taken another turn."
He turned, his gaze hard as steel, and gave an order that allowed no debate:
"Seal the mine. No one enters or leaves until we have an explanation for what just happened."
But in that moment… Adrias, watching silently among the slaves, felt a chill crawl down his spine.
There was something far darker in this place…
And he knew this was no longer just an investigation about murder.