⚠️ Content Warning: This chapter contains graphic violence, torture, gore themes intended for an mature audience. Reader discretion is advised.
The knights dragged Elric across the stone floor and threw him down beside Duke Malric Vane. His body hit the ground with a dull thud, his breath catching as the iron stench of blood filled his lungs.
Eyan stepped forward, boots echoing against the dungeon's walls. His crimson eyes glinted in the torchlight, sharp and merciless.
"Good to see you again," he said coldly, his gaze fixed on Elric.
He pointed at Malric, whose body trembled like a beaten dog. "Do you recognize him?"
Elric's lips quivered. He stayed silent.
Eyan's voice snapped like a whip. "Answer me."
Elric flinched and gave a terrified nod.
"He's your friend, isn't he?"
Another reluctant nod.
"That night when this bastard touched Eva…" Eyan's jaw clenched, venom dripping from his tone. "She told you what he did. Didn't she?"
Elric's silence was broken only by his own shallow breaths. Finally, with shame burning in his eyes, he nodded again.
"But instead of believing her…" Eyan's voice dropped, low and dangerous. "…you punished her. Isn't that the truth?"
The weight of the words crushed Elric. His head bobbed in weak confirmation.
Eyan's fury ignited. He grabbed Elric by the throat, lifting him halfway off the ground.
"You piece of filth," he growled, his grip tightening as Elric gasped for air. "If you had trusted her, she would not have had to suffer again."
Elric choked, clawing weakly at Eyan's hand until he was tossed aside like refuse.
Eyan turned his glare on Malric. "And your friend here…" His lip curled. "Tried to touch her again last night."
Malric's eyes widened in terror. He shook his head violently. "Y-Your Majesty, please—"
Eyan's sword hissed free from its sheath.
"I brought you here so you"—he pointed at Elric—"could witness what happens to the hands that dare to touch her."
"Knights." Eyan's command was ice. "Hold his hands down."
Malric screamed as two knights pinned his arms against the bloodstained floor. His voice broke into sobs. "Mercy! Please!"
The blade came down in a flash.
Slice.
Both of Malric's hands were severed clean at the wrists, blood spraying in a hot arc across the stones. His shrieks echoed, raw and broken, as his fingers twitched lifelessly beside him.
Eyan didn't even flinch.
"Again," he ordered.
The knights shoved Malric forward, forcing him to kneel in his own blood. Eyan's sword carved into him again and again—slashes across his back, punctures to his thighs. The dungeon echoed with the sounds of steel piercing flesh, Malric's shrieks, and Elric's ragged breathing as he cowered in the corner.
The torture stretched until dawn. By the end, Malric's body was a broken husk—numb, unmoving, but still alive enough to feel the agony coursing through every nerve.
"Bring him to his knees," Eyan commanded.
The knights hauled Malric's limp frame upright. His eyes rolled back, his lips quivering with incoherent pleas.
Eyan raised his sword, gaze as cold as the steel. He leaned in close, his voice a venomous whisper—
"Your last breath will be my gift to Eva, Now Die"
And with a single, merciless stroke, the blade cut clean through.
Malric's head toppled to the floor, rolling until it stopped at Elric's feet. Blood sprayed hot across Eyan's face, soaking into his clothes.
Eyan exhaled, calm at last.
"Give me that."
A knight stepped forward, bowing as he placed a black-glass bottle in the king's palm.
Eyan turned, his eyes locking on Elric, who trembled against the wall like a rat cornered by a wolf. He held the vial up between two fingers, the dark liquid swirling within.
"Now, Elric," his voice was low, deliberate, cruel. "You have two choices. Drink this poison…"
"His sword lowered toward Malric's severed head, still leaking blood. "…or die like him."
Elric's body shook violently. His eyes went wide, darting between the vial and the lifeless head. tears streamed down his face as he dropped forward, forehead pressed against the stone floor.
He tried to form words, but with no tongue, all that came out were strangled groans. His hands scraped at the stone as if clawing for mercy.
Eyan's gaze was ice. "That won't work on me," he said coldly. "Begging is wasted breath. Now choose."
Elric's lips trembled. His eyes darted between the vial and the headless corpse.
Minutes dragged like hours. Finally, with shaking hands, he snatched the vial from Eyan's palm.
A slow smile spread across Eyan's lips, cold and cruel. "Wise choice… indeed."
He stood, towering over the broken man, before turning to the knights. His voice was final, sharp as steel.
"Throw their bodies in the river when he's finished choking on it."
The knights bowed deeply. "Yes, Your Majesty."
Eyan sheathed his sword and strode from the dungeon, his boots leaving wet crimson prints on the stone.
The door creaked open to the corridor above, where Hans was waiting. He stiffened at the sight of his king—clothes soaked through with blood, streaks of red drying on his face.
Eyan exhaled slowly, eyes half-lidded, the faintest smirk curling his lips. "Yes…" His voice carried a dangerous calm, like the silence after a storm.
Hans's gaze flickered over the blood dripping from his robes. "Your Majesty should… take a bath before returning to her Highness."
Eyan wiped a streak of blood from his jaw with the back of his hand, his smile a dark shadow.
"Indeed"