(Yuuta's POV)
What the hell was wrong with this demon?
He wasn't just messing around. Every tool on the table had been arranged with purpose—clean, polished, and waiting. A hammer. Pliers. Some weird curved hook that looked like it came out of a butcher's nightmare. It didn't feel like a torture chamber so much as… a workshop. A place someone enjoyed spending time in.
Was this hell's version of a DIY club?
My heart pounded in my chest, loud enough that I swore he could hear it. The air was cold and damp, clinging to my skin, but my palms were slick with sweat. The restraints bit into my wrists. No matter how much I strained, they wouldn't budge.
He hadn't said a word since he brought me here.
Just silence.
And those eyes.
They weren't angry. They weren't even curious. Just cold. Analytical. Like he was trying to figure out which part of me would make the best starting point.
He reached for the hammer.
Shit.
Something in me snapped—my chest tightened, my breath hitched, and before I could stop them, tears started pooling in my eyes. It wasn't the kind of fear that makes you scream and flail. It was the kind that crawled under your skin, slow and suffocating. I could feel it building, coiling like a serpent around my lungs.
Why was I this scared?
No. I knew why. This wasn't just pain—I could feel it coming, like a storm on the horizon. I was about to be unraveled.
He stepped closer. His heavy boots thudded against the stone floor, echoing through the cavern. One gauntleted hand reached out, fingers curling into my hair. He yanked my head up with mechanical precision, not rough, but firm—like he didn't want to hurt me until it was time.
Cold metal pressed against my scalp.
For a moment, he just stared.
Not at my face, exactly. More like through it—like he was peeling me open layer by layer with his eyes alone.
Then he spoke. Just one word.
"Interesting…"
My throat tightened. "…What?"
He tilted his head slightly. "Have you been through torture before?"
"What?!" I blinked at him. "Do I look like someone who signs up for torture as a weekend hobby?"
He didn't react. His tone remained flat. Detached.
"I've tortured victims for over eight hundred years," he said. "They all break. Eventually. I've seen the same sequence a thousand times—confusion, terror, resistance, collapse. But you…"
His gaze narrowed.
"Your eyes—they've already accepted pain. Like someone who grew up with it."
What the hell was that supposed to mean?
"I—" I faltered. "Look, This is my first time, okay?! So maybe… just be a little gentle? Please?" I said, instantly regretting my choice of words.
Xemon just blinked.
Xemon: "(°_°)?!"
Fuck. What the hell am I even saying?
His eyes blinked. Slowly. Like I'd just asked the sun not to shine.
"Gental…?" he echoed, expression unreadable.
"…Please?" I added weakly.
There was a pause.
Then, without another word, he grabbed my hand.
Before I could react, he brought the hammer down.
Pain exploded through me.
"AAAAAAHHHH! YOU BASTARD! WHAT THE HELL?!"
The scream tore out of me before I could even process it. My body bucked against the restraints, vision blurring as fire raced through my nerves.
It didn't stop.
He'd smashed the bone—clean, brutal. I could feel it, jagged and wrong beneath my skin. Then, casually, almost bored, he reached down and ripped my fingernail out.
Like it was nothing.
"IT BURNS! FUCK! STOP! PLEASE!"
My voice was hoarse, the cave walls throwing my cries back at me in twisted echoes. Each one sounded smaller, more pathetic.
The pain was too big for my body. Too raw. I felt like I was dissolving in it.
I couldn't breathe.
I couldn't think.
And he just watched. Unblinking.
I wanted to say something else. Beg, maybe. Curse him. Fight back. But the words wouldn't come. Only the pain remained—hot, blinding, and endless.
He ripped the nail out.
At first, I didn't even register what had happened. Just a flash of movement. The glint of metal. The sensation—sharp, white-hot, beyond anything I'd ever known—hit a moment later.
I opened my mouth to scream, but it came out broken, cracked. My throat felt like it was tearing itself apart, raw from the inside. The sound that escaped didn't even feel like mine anymore. It was some primal thing—animalistic, desperate. A noise born from the kind of pain that didn't leave room for language.
Tears spilled down my cheeks before I knew they were coming. My vision swam in and out of focus, the edges darkening like the room itself was pulling away from me. Every muscle in my body trembled. I couldn't stop the shaking. My body was breaking faster than my mind could process what was happening.
And still—he moved.
No pause. No hesitation. No mercy.
Another finger.
Another swing of the hammer.
Another nail, torn away like it meant nothing.
My body jerked violently in the restraints, but there was nowhere to go. No way to escape. I gasped—loud, ugly. There was blood in my mouth now. I wasn't sure where it came from.
"I'll do anything," I croaked. "Please. Just stop."
I didn't even know what I was offering. My soul. My Money. Anything. It didn't matter. I would have handed him everything, just to make it end.
But he wasn't looking for anything.
Not a deal. Not a reaction.
He just wanted to watch me fall apart.
And I was.
Piece by piece.
My hands were drenched in blood. My fingers twisted at unnatural angles. The pain didn't stay where it started—it moved, like a current running under my skin, electrifying every nerve. It burned. It seared. It settled into my bones and made a home there.
I could feel something fraying. Tearing loose inside me.
I wanted to scream again, but my voice had given out.
All I could do was sob. Soft, weak, useless.
My heartbeat slowed. The pounding in my ears grew fainter. The trembling in my limbs turned to a dull, lifeless weight. I was swaying in place now, hanging from the chains like a broken puppet.
Blood dripped steadily to the floor.
Drip… drip… drip…
I watched it fall, transfixed. The stone beneath me was stained dark. My blood. My body's last defiance.
Then—something shifted.
The pain didn't stop. But it became… distant.
Like I was floating above it. Outside of it.
Like I was no longer inside my body.
I wasn't here anymore.
I was watching a stranger suffer.
Somewhere far away, I heard his voice again. It was muffled, as if he were speaking through water.
"Almost there…"
My lips moved on instinct. I didn't think. I didn't choose.
"Mama…It's hurt.. alot."
The word barely made it out. It was a whisper. A breath. A child's plea.
And then everything slipped.
The world fell into silence.
And I followed it down.
_____________________
An hour of continuous torture.
Yuuta Kounari… finally lost consciousness.
_____________________
(Allen's POV)
Hahh…
How lucky I am.
After all these years, after every fruitless searching, every false trail—I finally have him.
The Sons of Disaster.
And the best part? I didn't even have to step foot inside that cursed Nova World.
Subharshi… Subharshi…
I was right to trust my instincts when I saw him in that zoo.
That flicker of aura…
I trusted my instincts. They've never failed me.
But I must be cautious. The Divine Witch is still out there. Watching. Waiting. Her eyes see more than they should.
I turned toward Aaron—the idiot playing the role of "Master." He was slouched in his chair, eyes unfocused, completely entranced again. Useless.
Snap.
I clicked my fingers. His body twitched, then stilled. Slowly, he blinked back into awareness.
"What… what happened to me?" he asked, rubbing his temples.
I offered a smile—tight-lipped, practiced.
"You lost consciousness while speaking with Yuuta, Master," I said.
"Oh right…" he muttered. "I was in the middle of… something. Wait—what was I even saying?"
I stepped forward and gently placed my palm against his forehead.
"Don't worry. Everything is proceeding exactly as planned."
He barely had time to register the words.
"Sleep."
A pulse of magic passed from my hand to his mind. He slumped forward instantly, the life draining from his eyes.
Peaceful. Silent. Obedient.
Exactly how I like him.
Tch.
It still disgusts me that I have to serve this incompetent child—parading around as some great ruler. But soon, if everything falls into place… I'll be free of him. Free of all of this.
The Cave chamber door creaked open.
Xemon entered—his armor streaked with blood, thick trails still dripping from his gauntlets. He moved with precision, his expression unchanged. He knelt before me, lowering his head in respect.
"Lord," he said, voice cold and sharp. "The subject endured one full hour of torture. He has no remaining will. His consciousness is slipping. There's no detectable mana flow. By all appearances, he is just a normal human. No signs of Awakening. No divine traces."
I stared at him, narrowing my eyes.
"No," I said firmly. "You're wrong."
Xemon said nothing. He simply waited.
"I saw it," I continued. "Brief—but undeniable. That aura… it belonged to her. The Founder of Zani."
Xemon's brow twitched. That was the closest thing to doubt I'd ever seen on his face.
"…But my Lord," he said slowly, "he kept denying it. He screamed again and again that he wasn't the Son of Disaster. Those were his final words before he blacked out. If we continue… he may die. He's already lost too much blood."
I stepped closer, letting the weight of silence press between us.
"You're getting soft, Xemon."
Then, from within my cloak, I retrieved a small glass vial. Crimson liquid shimmered inside, thick like molten light.
I tossed it to him.
"Pour this into his wounds. Just enough to keep him breathing."
Xemon caught it, studying the potion for half a second.
"Then…?" he asked.
I met his eyes with a glare like frost.
"Then start again."
For a moment, he hesitated. His lips parted as if to question me—but then he lowered his head again, jaw tight.
"…As you command, my Lord."
I watched him leave, his heavy footsteps echoing down the stone corridor.
This time… he better succeed.
Because I have waited too long. I have endured too much.
I turned to the open space beyond the chamber, where only memory lingered.
I could still see her—her—as she entered our kingdom. Her eyes like voids. Her hands soaked in light and ruin. She didn't come with an army. She was the army.
And in a single night, we—all of us—became her slaves.
But that was then.
This is now.
And now, I have the Son of Disaster in my hands.
All that's left… is to awaken him.
[Reader right now: "Ah shit… here we go again, another lore."]
To be continue...