“Ugh, that annoying old man!” Elysian exclaimed, gritting his teeth in frustration as he walked through the dark streets on his way home, flanked by his two companions.
“Young master, hold on a moment!” Bran exclaimed, his voice tense with urgency.
“What?!” the young noble asked, irritation clear in his voice. Realizing his mistake, he sighed, calming down his temper. Adopting a softer tone, he apologized, “I’m sorry about that, big fella. Do you need anything?”
Completely absorbed by the unfolding scene, the servant remained oblivious to the young noble’s outburst and apology. His attention was solely focused on the dire situation before them.
“Young master, look! I know it’s dark, but I think someone is assaulting a woman there!” Bran exclaimed, urgently pointing towards the dark alleyway. Despite the limited visibility, the distressing sight of two assailants harassing a woman was unmistakable. The faint sounds of a scuffle only served to confirm the gravity of the situation.
“Master, I believe that’s the young woman from the pub earlier,” Osric stated, squinting his eyes to better discern the identities of those involved. “I don’t recognize the man on the right, but I’m certain the other man is the one you fought earlier.”
‘Impressive! Even though it’s dark, Osric can still identify the people involved. I was right; his senses are indeed much better than average.
It’s not just him. I also noticed that my eyesight has kept improving to the point that I can clearly see in the dark now. It wasn’t like this in the past. I’m sure it wasn’t due to my improved cultivation. The only possible explanation is the Eye of Sacraeon.’
“You’re right! I’ve already warned them, but they just wouldn’t listen. They also have the gall to commit a heinous crime after I just made my threats. Tsk, that’s an insult I can’t forgive,” Elysian stated. His tone went dangerously cold while his anger was simmering to a boiling point. Shooting a piercing glare at the ruffians, he continued, “It seems I didn’t make my point very clear.” Turning to his two companions, he said, “Both of you stay here.”
“But we can help!” Osric objected, his tone tinged with frustration and a sense of inadequacy. He felt like a burden, useless, and sidelined, while his master bore the weight of the situation alone.
“I know. It’s not that you two aren’t capable of helping,” Elysian responded, smiling softly as he explained his reason to his two companions. But beneath the surface, a storm of anger churned within him, threatening to consume his every thought. His eyes, usually calm and composed, now showed glimpses of that seething fury that threatened to be unleashed at any moment, flickering like flames ready to ignite. “It’s just that I’m so consumed by anger right now that I needed to vent it all out,” he remarked. “Do you understand?”
“Yes, master. We understand,” Osric said, bowing respectfully, while Bran nodded to their liege.
Unsheathing the knife from his waist, Elysian held it up, its worn blade glinting in the dim light of the alleyway. Despite its rust and holes that marred its surface, the weapon seemed to throb with hunger, calling for him to quench its insatiable thirst. With a dangerous glint in his eyes, the young noble’s lips curled into a sinister smile. “It seems you’ll have your fill again,” he murmured, his voice laced with a chilling promise of death.
“Please, stop,” the young woman cried, her voice trembling with fear and desperation, struggling beneath the weight of the man who pinned her to the ground. She clawed his arms, her nails digging into his flesh, in a futile attempt to free herself. As tears streamed down her cheeks, she pleaded for mercy, her terrified voice echoing through the alleyway.
“It’s all your fault, b*tch!” the ruffian screamed, his voice hoarse with uncontained rage, spittle flying from his mouth as his eyes bulged with hatred. With a violent jerk, he tore the young woman’s shirt, filling his eyes with hunger and lust. “If you just kept quiet and didn’t make a fuss, nothing would’ve happened tonight,” he snarled, his words dripping with venom as he blamed her for their humiliation. “If you don’t stay still, you f*cking wh*re, I’ll make you regret it!” he threatened, his voice low and menacing, licking his lips as he stared at her bosom.
“Hey, make it quick!” the other thug exclaimed, his eyes gleaming with lust as he hungrily salivated over the young woman’s body. “Or I can have a go at her first.”
“Just stand there and keep watch,” the ruffian remarked, his tone clearly annoyed by his accomplice’s interference. “Let me enjoy her…”
Before the ruffian could finish his words, the other thug's body fell to the ground—lifeless, while his head remained in place as if floating. For a brief, disorienting moment, the thug didn’t realize he was dead. He even smirked, a cruel and twisted smile etched on his face, before his gaze snapped to his falling body. With a sudden jolt of horror, he screamed at the ghastly sight, terror forever frozen on his face as the last traces of life left him.
Shock washed all over the ruffian, his features contorting with dread as he watched the grisly scene unfold before him. Pure terror gripped him; he stayed frozen, causing him to involuntarily urinate in fear, too terrified to even scream. Even the young woman beneath him lay motionless, paralyzed by overwhelming horror, rendering her unable to move or even breathe.
“I already warned you to get the hell out of Ironspire. Not only did you ignore my words, but you even went ahead and committed a heinous crime right after. Tsk, such an insolence cannot go unpunished,” Elysian stated, his voice carrying a hint of amusement that sent shivers down the spines of those present. “In all honesty, I’m actually grateful for your audacity. I’ve been racking my brain on how to deal with all of you, and now you’ve handed me a perfect excuse,” he chuckled excitedly, striding forward with a sinister grin illuminated by the faint moonlight. In his hand, he held the screaming head of the fallen thug, its expression frozen in terror like a macabre trophy. “As a token of my gratitude, I’ll grant you a night of pain and horror,” he declared, relishing in the fear that emanated from his victim.
Overcome by dread, the ruffian’s instincts took over, propelling him into a frantic sprint. With each desperate step, he stumbled and tripped, his fear manifesting in unsteady footing that sent him crashing to the ground repeatedly.
Before he could go any farther, Elysian suddenly appeared in front of him. With his sinister grin, his presence loomed like a specter of dread. “Where do you think you’re going?” he inquired, tilting his head slightly to the side to better see the reaction of the thug. As tears streamed down the man’s terrified face, he casually tossed the severed head towards him. “By the way, consider this as my gift,” he remarked, his tone dripping with dark amusement.
“Ah!” The ruffian screamed, shattering the eerie silence of the night, his hands trembling violently from fear as he instinctively hurled the severed head away in sheer terror, the sickening thud as it hit the ground echoing ominously through the dark alleyway.
“You didn’t like it?” Elysian inquired with a hint of disappointment. Suddenly, he feigned hurt from the rejection; however, his amused eyes contradicted this, showing that this was nothing but a cruel mockery aimed at the trembling, terrified man before him.
Instead of fleeing, the ruffian collapsed to his knees in front of the young noble, his entire body quivering from fear. “Please forgive me,” he pleaded, his voice choked from terror. “I swear, I’ll never do it again. I’ll leave this place at once. You’ll never see my face again,” he blurted out hastily, his words interspersed with flecks of spittle flying from his trembling lips as tears streamed down his face while begging for mercy.
“Of course, I’ll forgive you. After all, I’ve been told l possess a generous heart,” Elysian stated, his voice carrying a hint of weary compassion, before sighing in resignation. “And besides, I’ve no desire to be known as a heartless ruler. Reputation matters, you know.”
“You mean… you’ll let me live?!” The ruffian’s voice quivered in disbelief, his eyes widening with a glimmer of desperate hope.
“Did I say that?” the boy asked, his brow furrowing in mock contemplation, pretending to search his memory for his earlier statement. “Hmm, I didn’t say that.”
“Yes,” the man said eagerly, nodding his head. “You mentioned earlier that you would forgive me.”
“Ah! You’re right. I’ve mentioned that,” Elysian remarked, chuckling in agreement before abruptly exhaling in annoyance. “Tsk, did you just put words in my mouth?”
“No…”
“Shut up! Before I f*cking rip that tongue out of your mouth,” the boy exclaimed, his voice dripping with fury as his eyes blazed with intensity. “I just forgave you, and now you have the gall to lie to my face. Tsk! This is why I despise vermin. They lack the basic decency of gratitude,” he spat out, his tone heavy with disappointment and disdain.
Raising his dagger to the moonlight, its rusted blade seemed to take on a sinister life of its own, casting a chilling shadow that danced with the flickering light. The mere sight of it sent a shiver down the spine of all who beheld it, an eerie reminder of the darkness that lurked within the ancient weapon. Instead of fear, he found himself being drawn to its menacing allure, captivating him completely. A twisted grin spread across his face as he relished the anticipation of the horror it would instill in his enemies, and a solemn promise of death.
Staring at the dagger, the ruffian’s eyes widened in terror, and his entire body began to tremble uncontrollably. “Please, young master, have mercy!” he pleaded frantically, his voice quivering with fear as he bowed repeatedly, each time his forehead struck the rocky ground. Despite the blood flowing from his head, he continued to beg, as if the sheer terror coursing through him had dulled all the pain.
“Shall we begin?” Elysian asked casually, his steps were relaxed as if he were taking a stroll through the park rather than heading to carry a gruesome act. This was a stark contrast to the kneeling man, fearing for his life. The only indication of his true intentions was the wicked smile on his lips, while his cold, emotionless eyes revealed nothing.
That fateful night resounded with the haunting wails of agony and despair, each cry a mournful echo heralding the arrival of vengeance upon the mortal realm. It symbolized the merging of death and retribution, giving rise to a boy shrouded in darkness, embodying both. He descended upon the world, emerging with a malevolent grin that seemed to eclipse even the deepest horrors. His arrival marked the birth of unrelenting vengeance, poised to unleash unfathomable terror upon the unforgiven.
“Hey, I’m sorry for making you wait,” Elysian said, glancing at Osric and Bran, who now stood beside the young woman. Despite the gravity of the situation, a solemn smile graced the young noble’s face. However, it was marred by specks of blood scattered across it. Stains of crimson adorned parts of his clothes, a reminder of the horror and torture he had inflicted that night. Yet, he paid little attention to his disheveled appearance as he strode nonchalantly towards them. Leaving behind a lifeless body, gruesomely pinned to the wall as a grim testament to the unspeakable horror that was unleashed that night.
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