Chapter 7 - The Storm, Part 2**
viewer discretion is advised This chapter is a bit dark if you don't like torture and gore skip this chapter.
**Tarious' POV**
Pain shot through my body as I was flung down on the cold, hard ground. "AGHH!" I screamed as the pain intensified. I felt the figure's shoe come in contact with my side as I was kicked roughly. I rolled across the ground before—"thud"—my body came to a stop as it made contact with a wall.
"Tell me how you managed to infiltrate the royal family, you shadow spawn," the figure's gruff voice rang out, his tone clear and menacing.
"I d-don't know what you're talking about," I gasped, clutching my ribs. My whole body was racked with pain, and I could barely move. "Cough." I spat out dark purple blood. "I w-was b-born into the royal family." I stammered, my arms shaking and heart racing against my chest. I was scared. I couldn't even move. It was happening all over again. Once again, I was the weak one at the mercy of someone else. Nothing had changed, even in this life. 'Who the hell was this guy, and what did he even want? Why can't I just live in peace without fear of anyone? For once, I was finally happy. Everyone hated me, but that was fine. I had Starlia, and as long as I had her—someone who loved and adored a loser like me—I didn't care what the world thought.' I looked up at the figure, my violet eyes gleaming with hate and anger. 'But this bastard had to rip me away from her.'
The figure looked down at my blood with barely concealed disdain. "There is no mistaking it. You even bleed the color of a filthy Drûshak. But fine, if you don't want to talk, I'll force you." He took off his hood, revealing a rough-looking face that had seen better days. The figure had matted black hair; his face was covered in black dirt and grime. An X-shaped scar ran across his face, but the scariest thing was his dark green eyes that looked at me with pure hate. Suddenly, his fingers started glowing a deep forest green, and with a wave, I felt my body levitating into the sky. I began to panic even more, shaking my arms and legs in an attempt to stop my body from moving.
"Click." I felt something cold, hard, and metallic wrap around both my arms and legs. I looked to my side, my eyes widened, and a shiver of fear went down my spine as my eyes came in contact with metallic straps binding my arms in place. 'Fuck, fuck, fuck.' I began struggling, trying to break free of the chains. A sadistic smile spread across the figure's face.
"Good. I love it when you shadow spawn struggle." He walked over to a table filled with various torture devices. He ran his hand over items like a whip, pliers, branding irons, and needles. His hand came to a stop as he gently caressed a butcher knife. "Let's start with something simple. I haven't done this in a while, so I will start simple to get back into the groove of things."
His words sent shivers of fear down my spine, and I started struggling more vigorously to get out of the chains. "Listen, man, I know you think I'm a dark elf, and why wouldn't you? I look exactly like that, right? But I promise you I ain't no dark elf. So please let me go. I'll even put in a good word for you with the royal family. You can have whatever you want—money, women, pow—" Without even waiting for me to finish my sentence, he slashed the knife at my shoulder, his dark green eyes gleaming with a cold light.
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"AGHHH!" I screamed, tears running down my face as pain shot through my body.
"You see, I'm quite qualified when it comes to torturing and hunting your kind. I can cut you in places that cause so much pain you wish you were dead. So I'm going to ask you one more time. How did you i—"
Suddenly, I felt a cool, soothing warmth envelop my shoulder in a dark purple glow. My shoulder, which had just been split open, healed itself back to 100%.
"Disgusting," the figure said, his voice dripping with contempt. "So not only have you stolen the body of a child, mind-controlled the royal family, but you've also reached this far into black magic." His dark green eyes gleamed with something dark as he continued, "For the good of everyone—no, the world—I will put you down. But first, you will tell me how you infiltrated the royal family, how you got this deep into black magic, and how you survived after I personally made sure all the dark elves were dead."
I sighed in relief. 'At least now, no matter what he does, I'll be fine.' "I told you I was born into the royal family, and I ain't no damn dark elf," I spat blood on his face.
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**Unknown Amount of Time Later**
Pain—all I felt was scorching hot pain. I had been stabbed, slashed, impaled, whipped. My fingernails got ripped out. I had even been burned by branding irons. My body was in complete and constant pain. How long have I been here—a day, a year, a century? I didn't even know. I had lost all track of time. At first, I thought this regeneration thing would be awesome because no matter what he did, I could heal from it. But it's not awesome; it just means the torture never ends.
"TALK! YOU ABYSSAL BASTARD!" The figure slashed my stomach with a katana. I didn't even flinch as my blood—dark purple—spurted out and my guts began hanging out of my body. I was getting used to the pain. The familiar warm, soothing feeling enveloped my body, and I was completely healed.
"Damn," I chuckled. "You're getting creative with these nicknames. Abyssal bastard—I like that one. That sounds cool as shit. Keep giving me names like this, and I don't think you actually dislike me." I winked at him, a bloody smile plastered on my face. This guy has been losing his cool since he realized his tactics stopped working a while ago. He was all cool and calm, and now he's shouty.
"You think this is funny, huh? You trash. All right then," the figure's voice crackled with anger. "Click." I felt the metal straps that held me in place open, and I found myself falling through the air on a one-way trip to the ground. Once again, I felt my body stop and start floating in mid-air. At this point, my emotions were numb, and I didn't even panic as it was pointless. This guy clearly wasn't going to stop no matter how much I screamed or begged, so I didn't see the point in panicking. Before I knew it, I was placed in a metal chair, straps once again binding my arms and legs.
Suddenly, I heard a mechanical whirring sound. My eyes widened as I saw two compartments on the chair open. Two burning hot balls, glowing with intense heat, fell from the compartments and landed directly on my hands. "AGHHH!" I screamed as the searing pain shot through my body. The balls created large holes in my hands, and the balls landed in the middle of my hands, preventing my body from regenerating properly. The excruciating pain was unbearable. I wanted to scream and beg him to stop, but I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing me break. My pain tolerance had gotten high, so I could take this. "I actually feel this one, but I think you're going to need a lot more than this." I smirked at him, my eyes gleaming with unconcealed hate and anger.
"Oh, don't worry. This is the best part," he said, a smirk on his face. He pressed a button on a remote he got from God knows where, and then I felt it. The chair was elongating, stretching my arms and legs with it.
"Ahhh!" I screamed as I felt my bones cracking and moving in ways no one's body should. The regeneration only made it worse because the moment my body healed and I got a moment of reprieve, my bones broke and began stretching again. I tried my best to stop them, but despite my best efforts, tears ran down my face as I looked at the figure with hatred dancing in my violet eyes. 'I will make him suffer, not just for torturing me, but for ripping Starlia—the only person who cared about me—away from me.'
After what felt like an eternity of torture—minutes, hours, days, I couldn't tell anymore—the figure finally stopped the mechanism. My body was left trembling, broken and healed over and over again, but the pain remained.
"Ready to talk?"