"I see you still have the energy to talk," Ambrose said sarcastically as he lowered his hand.
The spikes around his waist moved for the first time. The man inside the cell writhed, holding back a cry of pain. The amount of blood he had lost was excessive, and his consciousness was constantly coming and going.
The sharp spikes slowly dug into his flesh and the dripping blood increased. At this rate, there will come a time when his hands and feet will be severed, or his body will be split in half.
But it wasn't time yet, he had to be patient and tolerate it.
Since he had entered this prison, he was the only one who had not been tortured. He knew that these spikes were nothing compared to what was happening in the other cells where the bloodcurdling screams were coming from.
The times that he was conscious, he saw different people taking samples of his blood, hair, nails, taking his clothes, estimating his stamina, looking for abnormalities in his body or abilities, and so on.
