The next day, Kaela woke up with an even worse headache than last time, the reason for which she only learned after finding herself sprawled on the floor in a bizarre position, head resting on the ground.
Must've hit my head pretty hard… Ori will definitely make fun of me for it. Tsk.
Regardless, that wasn't Kaela's greatest concern at the moment; there was a person in an infinitely worse state than hers nearby.
She eyed him up and down, feeling as if a stone were lodged in her throat.
I knew what was coming from his words, if nothing else, but this is just too much.
It was hard not to feel any pity for a person going through such brutality, day after day.
And brutal it was:
Kaela gasped in shock once she finally noticed a gaping hole right below his ribcage.
Her gaze traced the trail of blood that must've gushed out from the wound - by now dried up - before finally landing on an indiscernible piece chunk of meat.
No, it's not just any old piece of flesh; that's his fucking kidney…
A haunting thought crossed her mind.
Which of the two is more deserving of the subhuman label, really?
Was it Malrik, who committed such atrocities for a mere chance at gleaming some information?
Or was it Ori, an inhuman by definition; but also somebody who, despite getting relentlessly mocked by Kaela, still tried his best to be a good friend?
These monikers - Human, Demon, Threadripper - do they truly hold any weight, when the ones with a moral high ground act like the lowest scum?
Kaela had her doubts.
And, sure, Ori was no saint.
He openly told Kaela about his battle versus an innocent adventurer party, even admitting to having had the option of fleeing.
His speech was crude, too. He spat a boatload of curses whenever things went ever so slightly south, and never missed the chance to poke fun at Kaela's own misfortunes.
But despite his outwardly thorny personality, he didn't truly intend on hurting Kaela's feelings at any one point.
She recalled their first meeting, which devolved into a verbal battle within seconds, and suddenly felt funny about it.
God, what a mess that was.
During that atrocious back and forth, she asked Ori to try and manipulate her flesh, just for fun, but he showed strong reluctance.
And, although he did eventually agree, he first carefully scanned Kaela's burns to gauge her pain tolerance.
That is not the behavior of subhuman trash, no matter which way you spin it.
It seemed more like an effort to distance himself, almost as if he were scared of closeness with another.
Her opinion on Ori shifted dramatically over the few days they spent shackled side by side - what was initially just a way to kill time and fulfill her curiosity became something akin to real companionship.
It was no wonder, then, that Kaela's heart sank after seeing what he'd been through.
Logically, she understood that, being a Threadripper, Ori could survive nearly anything.
However, watching your organs get burnt to a crisp before your eyes had to have been traumatizing. Poor kid.
No, wait. He's probably older than me, right?
Kaela's thoughts momentarily switched to pointless musings on their age dynamics, before quickly getting back on track as she recalled Ori's request:
'If I don't come to it by next morning, force me awake, even if you have to resort to violence. Ah, I know it's unpleasant to touch blistered skin, but I absolutely must regain consciousness a couple minutes before Malrik's return. So, uhh… Sorry in advance, I guess.'
Kaela wasn't exactly squeamish. After all, she'd participated in more bloody fights at her age than most would in their lifetime.
And naturally, Ori surmised as much, yet still felt the need to offer an apology, halfhearted as it was.
So much for being a criminal deserving of death - the guy barely has the guts to ask for a favor… Tsk, what a joke.
She tapped her wounded roommate on the shoulder, but he didn't so much as flinch.
Hope you don't get too upset with me for this, but it was your own request, so… Here goes nothing.
Having gathered her thoughts, Kaela took a deep breath.
…And smacked him across the cheek in an arching swing.
*Slap*
Ori's eyelids sprung open.
"Ugh, the fuck? Oh, right. That was a good slap, my dearest of friends Kaela. I, uhh, don't actually have any other friends at the moment, so feel free to bask in my benevolence, for the title is now yours!"
As always, a load of nonsense left his mouth the moment he raised his slumped body off of the ground.
Still himself. And still just as much of an insufferable asshole. Seeing his pitiable state must've messed with my mind, cause no way I hell I'd be rooting for the guy in my normal state.
Yeah. Let's not give him too much credit.
***
I was awoken by a suspiciously well choreographed slap to the face.
After giving Kaela my scuffed version of a morning greeting, my mind more or less cleared up.
Notably, my lungs no longer stung at every exhale, so I must've recovered from the previous torture session by now.
Although, I can't say the same about the newly dealt injuries. It's a wonder I'm even alive at this point. How does the saying go..? What's good is good is good, yeah?
I have to admit, humans are far superior when it comes to inventive phrases.
With those thoughts, I spoke to my ever so helpful friend, with the goal of lightening my mood.
"So, Kaela, I've gotta ask - why the hell are you so proficient at delivering bitch slaps? Hold up, no need to tell me. Allow me to put my amazing deduction skills to the test!"
At my words, she ran a palm down her face and shook her head.
"I'd rather you didn't. Actually, can you just stop talking altogether? I much preferred it when your lungs were damaged."
I smiled, letting her words in one ear and out the other.
"Glad you're so enthusiastic. Here's my theory, my dearest of friends: you had a partner in the past - probably some sort of pretty faced, soft bastard - and he was an absolute asshole. And here's the ultimatum… You, being as violent as you are, could no longer hold back. There was a fist fight, and of course you came out on top. After it was over, you were overcome with, uhh… Rage! Yes, you were overcome with rage, and delivered slap after slap, until your technique was perfected. So, how'd I do? Hit the nail on the head, yes?"
Just like that, I was done delivering my piece that bordered on deranged fanfiction, and folded my arms with content, chin raised high.
Kaela's eyes, all throughout my ramblings, were open so wide that I feared they might pop out of their sockets.
And once I delivered my verdict, she just stared at me, dumbfounded, before placing her face in her hands and rubbing it aggressively.
"No, no, no! You've got it all wrong! And why do you look so smug about it?! You just said some bullshit and expected it to land? God fucking - I can't even…"
Her infuriated shouts were music to my ears.
Ah, that hits different. No better way of making me feel better about myself than by putting others down.
I intercepted her shouts.
"Hey, I think I finally get why you enjoy being so annoying. Thanks for teaching me your ways, my lady."
Out of nowhere, she got into a respectful position and put her hands together in a bow.
Not the first time I've seen her do that.
…Which is weird, because I've literally only known her for three days. Or is it four? Eh, who cares.
"No, please. I'll never be annoying again. Just don't adopt my speech. I beg of you."
I prepared to lay further into the bit, but suddenly-
*Clang*
The door to the basement swung open with an aggressive kick.
"Hoh? Well hey there, Malrik. We're close enough by now, right? How about a pet name? I'll call you Mal."
He ignored my words entirely, and walked in with swift steps.
He's, really, really pissed. Heh, am I actually scared right now? How novel.
Kaela, realizing that she had little time before Mal reached the cell, tapped a few points on her neck and dropped to the ground.
I traced the trajectory of her fall with my eyes.
*Bang*
Finally, I could no longer hold it in, and burst out in wheezing laughter, damn near choking on my spit in the process.
"Ahaha! Hah. Ahahahah!!! Haaah… She's a dumbass, ain't she?"
Those words were, of course, directed at Malrik; now dubbed Mal by yours truly.
He looked unamused.
If anything, his face only twisted into a deeper frown.
It's interesting how short his temper is. Just yesterday, he was all composed and professional. What happened, my dear Mal? Getting on your nerves, am I?
As terrifying as it was, to face his furious self, I was honestly pleased with such an outcome, if only internally.
After all, it was only possible for my plan to succeed if Malrik didn't notice any interference to his essence.
And, wouldn't you know it, anger was a perfect means for pushing one towards carelessness.
"Do your worst, Nether's Prince…"
I showed him my unnaturally long, white teeth, heart rate rising and Voracity interfering with my mind due to the overwhelming bloodlust.
I felt a chill crawl down my spine, largely in fear, but also with a hint of gleeful joy.
Just like usual, with no time wasted on useless chatter, the torture began.
***
A day passed. My right eyeball had been plucked out, burned to ashes right in front of me.
***
Another day passed. My claw-tipped fingers rolled beneath my feet, tendons limply hanging from the now useless wrist.
***
Again, a day passed. Or perhaps several - hell if I knew.
Mal was growing exhausted.
As for me, well…
'Exhausted' would be an understatement.
I wanted out already, but I had to cling on.
It's too early to set the plan into motion.
Malrik still had more energy to spare, and his worse-for-wear state did a great job at masking his dwindling essence; a stark opposition to my ever-growing reserves.
***
The next morning came.
Probably. I'd love to see an even a smidge of sunlight right now, for a little boost in vigor.
Only, it was too bad that my other eye had also been removed. Ripped out, even.
Ain't that supposed to be my job, to rip people apart? So much for being a Threadripper…
***
The next day, unable to tell what time of day it was, I laid on my stomach. Kicked my feet in the air like a bored child, with a stupid grin on my face.
Or what I assumed to be a grin.
Hard to tell, with my facial muscles barely functional.
I heard a concerned voice reach me through the haze.
The words didn't register. Couldn't register.
My few remaining strings of sanity were busy processing the flood of fiery essence that permeated my body.
***
Kaela looked at Ori with a grim expression.
He's too far gone. Won't even respond to my words.
What's the point of this torture, Malrik? Your target can't even tell what's happening around him anymore, so why are you still going? This won't lead anywhere.
Her complaints were only voiced in her head, as deep down, Kaela felt it - Malrik's presence had also taken a turn towards insanity.
Ori didn't even scream anymore.
The two of them, both driven mad by a determination of unknown origin, simply continued the daily torture as if it were some kind of ritual.
And aside from that, something else struck her as odd.
Why does it seem like Malrik is becoming weaker by the day?
His gaze started resembling Ori's - or at the very least, it resembled the gaze Ori's eyes held before they were mercilessly torn out.
It was almost as if Malrik's untamable essence was growing corrupted, slowly taking on the properties of a Demonic Cultivator's.
Is this also a part of your grand plan, Ori?
In the end, Kaela could only hope that something would change over the coming days.
Because, if things continued as they were, her new friend was bound to die a dog's death.
*Screech*
Out of nowhere, the basement's door creaked open, the sound grating on Kaela's ears.
A haggard frame - a poor mockery of Malrik's previously pristine image - came into view.
With no other choice, Kaela pressed her acupuncture points, but not before giving her tragically inclined roommate a silent prayer:
I hate to admit it, but I think I've grown attached. Never told ya before, but you're actually my first friend as well. So don't you dare die on me, ya hear?
Naturally, he couldn't read Kaela's mind; her wishes were met with but a hum of some unintelligible melody, sung in a failing voice that threatened to extinguish at the lightest breeze.
Finally, the acupuncture's effects kicked in, and Kaela fell to the ground. Her head didn't bang against the floor this time, courtesy of Ori's reminder from before his mental decline.
***
The next day came. Again.
Yet, something was off.
Kaela's mouth fell wide open, doubt reflected in her eyes - along with a young man's upright silhouette.
"Wha-"
Her words were cut short when a steel blade, raised to the lips, gestured her to remain silent.
The perpetrator, with an idiotic grin as if the world were full of flowers and rainbows, and skin so pristine one would think he were a sheltered noble, was none other than Ori.