47 Chapter 46 - Hell (3)
As they delved deeper towards the inner sanctum of the village, the heart-wrenching sounds of sobs, screams, and anguished wails grew louder and more distinct. The very air seemed to thicken with dread, making every step feel like a descent into a nightmarish realm. Liam, already on edge, felt a sudden chill as Trick's voice whispered eerily in his mind.
"Liam, heed my warning. As we approach the epicenter of this chaos, you must rein in your emotions. If possible, suppress them entirely."
Liam's eyes darted around, trying to discern the unseen dangers. "What are you getting at, Trick?"
Trick's voice was cold and firm, "Simply put, control your emotions or they might control you."
Hearing Trick's words sent chills down Liam's spine, tensing him immediately. Trick was known for his sarcastic remarks and riddles, always playing around. It was the first for him to be so straightforward and serious.
Feeling an overwhelming sense of apprehension, Liam discreetly leaned towards Irys and whispered, "Irys, be on high alert, especially given that you've only just recovered."
Irys, despite the situation, flashed her enchanting smile, the lower half of her face visible beneath the soldier's helmet. "Don't worry, Liam," she reassured.
While she typically enjoyed engaging in light banter with him, she sensed now wasn't the time. Sensing his rising anxiety, she gently grasped his hand, offering him a comforting touch. The warmth of her touch felt to Liam like a refreshing oasis amidst the turmoil, immediately calming him down.
Suddenly, two soldiers seemingly come from a nearby alleyway. Unlike the others, they weren't wearing helmets, and their uniforms were haphazardly donned, with buttons mismatched and sleeves rolled up.
Catching the sight of Irys holding Liam's hand, one of them whistled, a malicious grin stretching across his face. "Ooo, since when did we start recruiting female soldiers? Or wait... are you both lads?"
The second soldier laughed, a crazed glint in his eyes. Both of their stances and demeanor didn't resemble disciplined soldiers; instead, they seemed more like thugs from a dangerous alleyway, exuding menace and unpredictability.
Liam's temper flared upon hearing the derogatory comment, his instincts pushing him to retaliate. But Irys, sensing his brewing rage, gripped his hand tighter, a silent signal for him to maintain his composure. The two soldiers walked closer. With a predatory leer, one of them said, "Come on, show me that face. Judging by those lips, I bet you're quite beautiful," as he disgustingly licked his own lips.
The second soldier, with a slightly mocking tone, remarked, "Haven't you had enough fun with the villagers already? You even had your way with the bride."
(Warning: The next part contains extreme violence; skip to the next chapter if you feel uncomfortable.)
The vile soldier smirked, "What's there to enjoy? I am like the thousand-one. By the time it was my turn, I was so repulsed that I had to use this," he brandished a small, rusty dagger, which appeared stained with fresh blood. An odd, strange smell emanated from it.
The second soldier recoiled slightly and remarked, "Damn, did she even survive?"
The vile soldier sneered, "You think I'm the worst? You should've seen what the others use on her." "The boss supplied us with enough healing drugs to ensure she lasted until the ritual was complete. Didn't you get your turn?"
With a touch of bitterness, the second soldier replied, "How could I when I was occupied with carving up the men? I definitely drew the short straw."
His dark laughter echoed, "You should've seen the face of that man when you all did it," a wicked gleam in his eyes. "He looked as though he could kill us with just his glare, even when he was utterly at our mercy. Well the woman is loose anyway, you know there were two men there, right?"
He continued, a twisted smirk on his face, "The second man keep on fighting back. Since we had already carved the circle on the first one, we took our sweet time with him. I personally cut off a bone from his arm," he declared, puffing his chest out as if he had accomplished a commendable feat.
The vile soldier raised an eyebrow, "There was another man? Oh, you mean the one inside the dog cage? I mistook him for a dog, given all I heard were whimpers from there." The two soldiers erupted in deranged laughter, their act completely out of place amidst the horror. Their camaraderie, twisted as it was, seemed like two friends casually discussing a movie they had watched over the weekend rather than the monstrous acts they'd committed.
The soldier, casting his predatory eyes back on Irys, said with a lascivious sneer, "Come on, show us that pretty face. You know, since we're from the inner circle, we can get you inside. You can join in on the fun."
Their previous conversation had already left Liam, Zalya, Irys, and Victor in a state of shock and disbelief. Irys, revolted by their horrific words, felt a burning desire to end their lives right there and then. However, her sharp instincts held her back, suggesting that the moment to wreak havoc hadn't arrived yet. As she sensed Liam's rage surging beside her, her primary concern became to keep him composed.
The foul-mouthed soldier continued with his revolting comments, each word dripping with vile intent. Hearing it, Liam's anger swelled, and the blood seemed to pound louder in his ears. Just as he had enough, Zalya suddenly made a move. She slowly lifted her helmet, revealing her beautiful face, her purplish eyes flecked with gold, framed by cascading locks of silver hair that seemed to capture the essence of moonlight. Her otherworldly aura was palpable, like a siren's call, drawing everyone's gaze towards her.
Both soldiers, momentarily stunned, forgot about Irys. Their crude intentions shifted entirely to Zalya. Their eyes widened, and their mouths went dry. "Woah... what a stunner," one of them managed to say, his voice a mix of surprise and lecherous intent.
The soldier's words hung in the air, the reverence evident. "I've never seen anyone as beautiful as you." Zalya's smile deepened as they drew closer, full of elegance and grace.
"Would you like a taste of true pleasure?" she murmured seductively, taking deliberate steps towards them. Her hands moved to cup their faces, and her fingers traced their roughened jawlines. The soldiers, utterly entranced by her ethereal beauty and the promise of her touch, hesitated momentarily and then, almost instinctively, reached out to hold her hands.
However, several thin metal needles swiftly emerged, taking them by surprise. Before they could react, the needles darted forward, sewing their mouths shut with what appeared to be a wire made of metal. Panicking, they tried to retreat, but the ground beneath them shifted, ensnaring their legs and holding them in place, rendering them completely immobilized.
Zalya gracefully knelt down beside them, a serene smile on her face. "Allow me to provide you with our full course of services," she whispered. Almost immediately, thousands of tiny, gleaming needles emerged from her surroundings. They hovered for a split second, then lunged forward, sealing the soldiers' gruesome fate. To any onlooker, the entire event would have seemed to transpire within moments. But for the trapped soldiers, those fleeting seconds stretched on, feeling like an agonizing eternity.
The swarm of needles began their methodical and precise assault. They targeted sensitive areas: the eyes, under the nails, the nostrils, and even more intimate regions, inflicting excruciating pain. With Zalya's intimate knowledge of anatomy, she directed the needles to the spots that would maximize agony without providing the mercy of unconsciousness.
Inside, the needles danced, creating minuscule whirlwinds as they cavorted through the soldiers' internal organs. A few even made their way to the brain, pinpointing specific regions to ensure that the soldiers remained painfully aware of every second of their torment.
As the sharp needles punctured almost every inch of their bodies, sparing only the most vital areas, Zalya retrieved them with precision, leaving the soldiers' bodies riddled with countless bleeding holes. Her gaze, intense and unyielding, locked onto the soldiers as she held up two vials of a shimmering liquid - a well-known healing potion.
With a malicious grin, she whispered, "Let's start round two."
Each brutal session of torment lasted precisely a minute, but for the soldiers, every second stretched out. Zalya repeated this macabre dance three times in total. By the end of it, both soldiers were mentally shattered, their sanity worn down to the point of collapse. The combination of physical pain and mental anguish had reduced them to hollow, mindless husks. Every minute of their torment had felt like centuries of endless suffering.
Liam stared, aghast, as Zalya stepped back, leaving the soldiers in their agonizing state. Approaching them, he conjured a flame, ensuring it burned with a slow, searing intensity. The soldiers writhed and whimpered, their distorted faces reflecting the unbearable torment. Drawing a deep breath, Liam uttered, "This is madness. What are they even trying to achieve?"
Victor's eyes, blazing with a mixture of rage and disgust, met Liam's. "I'm no patriot," he began, his voice trembling, "and I won't pretend to be a paragon of morality. But hearing what they've done, their depravity... I'm ashamed that they hail from the same country as I do."
Irys, her expression cold, looked upon the slowly burning soldiers and said, "They deserve worse."
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