Zairen's laughter, sharp and twisted, echoed through the blood-drenched chamber. His words hung like poison in the air. The soldiers shifted uneasily, their armor clinking, until one stepped forward, voice trembling.
"My Lord… this boy's lost his mind."
Lord Virel, Zairen's uncle, narrowed his eyes to slits. "Stand him up," he snapped, his voice a whip-crack.
Rough hands yanked Zairen to his feet. His bloodied body barely wavered, but his eyes burned with wicked defiance, a fire no blow could extinguish.
Virel stepped closer, lips twisting into a cruel smirk. "What was that, boy? Say it again."
Zairen tilted his head, wiping blood from his mouth with a trembling hand. "Hmm… let me recall… Oh, yes—'Let's begin the punishment.'" His smirk revealed blood-smeared teeth, glinting with malice.
Virel's chuckle was ice-cold. "Then let's."
Mana flared in his fist, a glowing storm, before it slammed into Zairen's stomach. The force hurled him back, crashing into the stone wall with a sickening thud. Blood sprayed from his mouth, a crimson fountain staining the floor.
"Say it again!" Virel roared.
Zairen spat blood, his broken-toothed grin unyielding. "I said… let's begin."
Virel snapped. He stormed forward, unleashing a brutal flurry of kicks—ribs, legs, face, spine. Zairen twisted under each blow, a marionette of pain. Bones cracked. Flesh split. Blood pooled beneath him.
Finally, Zairen collapsed, arms twisted, legs shaking, eyes half-shut in a haze of agony.
"Enjoying your punishment now, boy?" Virel sneered, wiping blood from his hand onto his silk cloak.
He sank onto his throne with a satisfied huff. Zairen lay convulsing in a scarlet pool, the iron stench of blood thick in the air.
"You're alive only because of your sister," Virel said. "Without her, I'd have fed you to the forest beasts."
He waved lazily at the guards. "Pick him up."
The soldiers hesitated, trembling as they lifted Zairen's mangled form.
"So, do you like your punishment now?" Virel mocked.
Zairen stayed silent, blood caking his face, dripping from his chin like a slow, red river.
Virel sighed, feigning disappointment. "I gave you food, shelter, a family. And this is your gratitude?"
Zairen raised his battered head. His eyes were dying embers, but his voice cut like a blade. "You gave me rot. You leeched off my father's legacy like a bloated tick. I remember you at his gates, groveling like a dog. Without his death, you'd be choking on pig slop in some piss-soaked village."
Virel's face twisted with rage. "You little wretch! Think you're something? You haven't even awakened your mana circle. You're not even a pawn. Your sister awakened at nine. You? You're beneath pity."
His laughter was venomous. "You're a cockroach—useless, disgusting. Even cockroaches have purpose. You're a plague."
Zairen's glare burned. "And you're a fat pig, gorging on others because you can't grow anything of your own."
A guard snorted, quickly stifling it. Virel's face blazed red.
"Silence!" he bellowed. Then, to Zairen: "Where are your parents now? Oh, right—slaughtered like livestock. And you, somehow, survived."
Something inside Zairen broke. "Don't… don't speak of them."
He lunged, desperate to claw, to kill—but his body was shattered, powerless.
"Throw him in the cells," Virel spat. "Let him rot until he learns silence."
The guards seized him. Zairen thrashed, cursed, fought—but they were strong, and he was not. Not yet.
They dragged him down icy stone steps and hurled him into the dark. He hit the floor with a crack, blood trickling from his nose, ears, mouth.
Rats skittered. Chains clinked. The air reeked of mildew and old blood.
Zairen barely stirred. "My bones… they're broken," he whispered.
He slumped against the damp wall, trembling.
"Control your anger, Zairen," he murmured. "You're not strong enough yet… just a broken child."
His heart ached—not from pain, but from rage.
He saw them again—masked faces, screams, slaughter.
And he swore.
"I'll erase your bloodlines. All of them. Your children, your gods, your legacies."
He closed his eyes.
"Twenty years… the world will bleed again. And I'll wield the blade."
In the darkness, he smiled through broken teeth.
"Let this hellhole be my cradle. I'll rise from this pit like a demon reborn."
And with that, he sank into a cold, broken sleep, his heart ablaze with vengeance.