Given that his regeneration continued to function on some level while he was unconscious, it wasn’t surprising that he survived despite his grievous injuries. It was perhaps, unfortunate though. Very little time passed before he began to understand why the defenders had been so terrified by this demon lord, this Laukis. He would have liked to have stopped there, but the evidence kept pouring in. For far too long.
...
The victory parade was difficult. Not physically. The demons who had pulled him from the wreckage of Tranche hadn’t known he had survived such a brutal attack, they’d just thought he was lucky. On the long forced march to Avados he’d managed to hide his regeneration, focusing it on his internal injuries and only subtly improving his outward wounds. His captors thought he was a runt so the deception was easy. And of course his fellow prisoners provided all the pain and misery he could eat, so he was actually in pretty good condition despite his appearance.
Still, the whole thing was hard to countenance. A lot of prisoners were devastated by the jeering, the mockery and their own nudity. By the implication that they were things, or at the most failed, worthless beings. The thrown muck and feces were just insult to injury for them.
For Gloe the hard part was a whole society that found this sort of behavior acceptable. The reavers had once been human. How could they countenance this? The sojourners were mostly still human. Why had they not moved to put a stop to this? He could feel the foundations of his dream trembling slightly. He had hoped things would be marginally better here. That appeared to have been a false hope.
“You ought to be ashamed. Ma’am, it’s appalling that you brought your children to this event. You ought to go home and rethink your life.”
The demon guard cuffed him and told him to shut up. When he didn’t the guard drew a knife with a savage grin. Even while the blood was running down his legs Gloe kept admonishing the crowd. Only once they got to work on his mouth were they able to shut him up.
...
The torture chambers weren’t too bad, considering. He could eat most of his pain and fear. The slow, day by day destruction and amputation of his various body parts had less impact given that he knew he could regenerate them if given the chance. It was hard watching the other prisoners being worked over though. He found himself eating less of his own pain and fear in order to try to help them, but it was never enough. And of course that did little to help his own mounting despair.
His regeneration was worthless if he didn’t have time to let it work, and of course the more he was butchered the more time he needed. Plus now that he had been in close proximity to so many demons he realized how incredibly under-leveled he was. Even if he was at full strength his chances of escaping were virtually null. That was less than encouraging.
...
The parties almost broke him. Being displayed as art and entertainment was bad. Seeing it happen to the other prisoners was worse. Of course witnessing the gleeful participation of the various partiers was hard too, but the worst was when attention turned to one of the prominently displayed female prisoners.
Hard to watch. Hard to comprehend. Hard to understand. Why? Just why?
Given that he was holding back on regenerating too obviously he couldn’t eat too much, but even at full power he couldn’t have begun to devour all the misery in this wretched city. He stopped eating his emotions to the greatest extent possible during parties, but it wasn’t sufficient. The only other thing he could do was watch. He didn’t want to. He really didn’t want to, but he did. Not the women, but their oppressors. His memory was greatly enhanced. It would take a lot to make him forget those faces. It was almost nothing, but he had nothing else.
...
Tojas turned out to be a fairly jolly and intelligent looking demon. Gloe finally met him on the day Gloe was moved to the wall. A quick glance at the other prisoners hanging at regular intervals on the city wall’s exterior gave him the general idea. All were butchered and mutilated but still alive.
Despite that, as Tojas secured the mounting he seemed eager to explain the situation. “Good morning my friend! So nice to meet you. As the lowest of the insignificant worms here you haven’t been worth my time at all, but my assistants tell me you’ve been reluctant to break completely, and that’s great! That’s one of the many purposes the wall serves.”
“Of course it demonstrates our power- not only that we can cover our walls with fallen foes, but also that we can afford to leave all that aberration experience on the table. For that though, it’s hard to beat our Hall of Shattered Sojourners. Perhaps you’ll get to see it someday, but I digress.”
“The main purpose of the wall, as far as I’m concerned, is to introduce you to true despair and madness. You may think we’ve taken almost everything from you- your limbs, many of your organs, your teeth, your very looks and dignity through disfigurements and branding. But we haven’t, not yet.”
“We’re going to hang you on this wall, turn you fulltime into an object. We left you one eye and one ear, but when I’m finished explaining this to you I’m going to fit you with an excellent blindfold and earplug that will block everything. You’ll hang in total darkness, the only sound your own body, never knowing what is going on around you, unable to gauge the passage of time. Periodically we’ll pump a special potion through your gag that will keep you healthy.”
“And perhaps, once in a great while, I’ll remove your blockers to remind you what you still have to lose. If you grovel and beg for mercy sincerely each time, for enough years, well, maybe I’ll eventually consider taking away your humanity and letting you become one of my pets.” He grinned foolishly. “But I doubt it. Goodbye for now.”
...
Ironically the wall was something of a relief. Far fewer prisoners were in his range, so he was able to go back to eating his own overflowing emotions. He couldn’t regain his previous level of detachment after allowing so many strong feelings to take root, but returning to at least a simulacrum of such was comforting.
The wall also gave him something to work on. He couldn’t level up so his abilities couldn’t get any stronger, but he was able to work on refining his (ability-given) sense of taste. Deprived of his other senses he learned to differentiate between different individuals based on the flavor of their emotions. He discovered he could extend his detection range by twisting his ability from a perfect sphere around him into an emanating directional cone.
Doing so allowed him to begin to identify and track various individuals. He didn’t know who most of them were of course, but he made up names for them and began tracking their movements and moods. He learned quite a bit doing this.
Enough that he eventually realized there might actually be a tiny chance to escape. He worked out all the details, practicing and refining over and over again, waiting for the perfect time.
...
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Tojas had been gone for quite a long time, as expected given how large a dose of the sustainment potion he’d been given. Gloe did one last check. No one nearby, and the lack of motion in the area plus the chill in the air suggested it was night. He wouldn’t get a better chance.
He uncurled his newly regenerated right arm and left leg from where he had tucked them behind him. That had been the riskiest part of the plan, but fortunately Tojas didn’t allow anyone else to check on his trophies, and no one was interested enough to wander by when there were more enticing targets inside the city. Now the gamble had paid off, at least for the moment.
Placing both limbs against the wall he pushed. The pain as the chains ripped out of his flesh was severe, but Gloe welcomed it. Once he had fallen to the ground he groped about until he found one of the metal plates that had once been fitted at the ends of his amputated limbs. He had to be careful handling it because they had all been enchanted with the sharpness essence he’d partially acquired from the executioner sword. That was how he’d gotten them off. He’d sharpened them all up until flailing his tiny stumps around had been enough to make them rip free.
Gingerly holding the razor disk he ran it along the side of his head. He had to saw a bit and caused quite a bit of collateral damage, but he eventually got the restrictive headgear off. The light and sound roared back, blinding and deafening him, but he focused his regeneration and recovered quickly.
The light was moonlight. A half-moon. Tactically acceptable, aesthetically beautiful. He lay there in sheer appreciation for a minute. Then he returned to the grim matter at hand.
He needed to make the final call. Should he mercy kill his fellow prisoners assigned to the wall? If so, everyone, or just the ones oozing despair? It was a difficult problem.
There was very little chance he was going to get away himself. His ability to rescue these cripples was almost nonexistent, but even if he could it would be limited to one. Was it wrong to leave them to suffer here? Was it okay to murder them because he was trying to relieve their suffering?
Drawing near he felt a curious mix of despair and relief. He didn’t need an answer right now, because he couldn’t do anything. Everyone on the wall was an aberration who had survived defeat by demons. None of them seemed to have regeneration, so it was natural that even the least of them was significantly higher level than him. They would have had to been to avoid dying.
All of them were unconsciously maintaining shroud in a vain attempt to protect themselves. It couldn't defend them from the even higher level demons, but it could keep Gloe from being able to affect them. At full strength in extended combat he perhaps could have killed some of them, but not stealthily with only one arm and no real weapons. His sharpened disks were sharp all around so he couldn’t put all that much force behind them without slicing through his own hand. They certainly couldn’t chop through the chains, much less their shroud.
It made him feel incredibly guilty to step away from the moral conundrum he’d found himself in, but he didn’t have a choice. He just had nothing to work with, so it wasn’t as if he was going to come up with some sort of cunning plan. He couldn’t allow shame to derail his escape. It was time to go.
Carefully gathering up the sharp disks he began the long low-crawl out of sight. It was difficult with only one arm and one leg, but at least the newly regenerated limbs were strong and healthy. The guards up on the wall didn’t seem incredibly alert, which made sense given how deep the city was in demon territory. Still he kept a close eye out and stopped moving whenever there was a risk of being detected.
The area around the city was crowded with buildings and estates, but there was much less activity at night. Within an hour he had slipped into a drainage ditch and was able to increase his speed. He wasn’t very interested in easing the slumber of the demons around him, so he maintained a tight bubble to keep from being snuck up on and pushed the rest of his ability out in a cone towards his destination. He’d rather have people there be well-rested. Once he arrived it might get busy.
...
It was a mine. That was better than he’d hoped. Judging from the emotions he’d regularly eaten from here he’d deduced it had to be some sort of forced labor camp, but he’d feared it might be a high-security facility of some type. Instead it looked like it was oriented around production, which was good for him.
Not time to reconnoiter. Moving stealthily it had taken him a quarter of the night get here. He had to just wing it or he’d never have enough time. This was an all or nothing gamble. Either he succeeded or he died here. He wasn’t going back.
The sentinels weren’t very alert, and almost all of their attention was focused inwards, on escape attempts. He was able to sneak close and decapitate two with thrown sharpened disks, although it took two tries each. It made a gap in the perimeter though, so it was fine.
Once inside he quickly sought out the more respectable-looking buildings. Stealth was difficult with only one leg, so he put his hope in speed. He would glance around to ensure no one was looking in his direction, then leap. Catching himself was difficult so he landed with partially controlled falls, then began all over again.
The first building was the armory and vault. He pushed that back for later. The next three were officer lodgings. He found a knife early on and used it to murder the officers in their sleep. None of them had an impressive amount of life force. The camp commandant’s quarters were next. He wasn’t very powerful either, but he had an impressively enchanted quirt on his nightstand. Gloe awkwardly donned a hooded robe and made himself a makeshift belt by one-handedly tying a sash around his waist. Then he tucked the quirt securely inside, just in case.
Most of the other officers went into death just as easily, but there was one exception. An enormous demon, covered in scales. It woke up right as Gloe went to cut its throat, backhanding him off the bed. The move made the robe fly up, exposing Gloe’s missing leg. The demon grinned.
“Escaping? Oh, I’m going to take my time with you. By the time I turn you in for the reward you’re going to wish you’d slit your own throat rather than going for mine.”
The quirt was apparently enchanted to inflict pain without causing physical injury. The perfect tool for a sadist running a forced labor camp. The demon’s physical defenses were robust and it was a prison guard, not a soldier. It likely had been some time since it had felt real pain, much less at this level. The ensuing thrashing struggle destroyed much of the room, but Gloe’s victory was assured after he managed to shove the quirt down the demon’s throat. After that it was just a matter of stabbing the thrashing body until it stopped moving.
“Kodil, are you dreaming of eating all the prisoners again? You need to stop making so much noise in your sleep!” The sergeant of the guard had been drawn in by the ruckus, but he didn’t seem too concerned. Gloe made sure he never had to worry again.
Kodil must have been the guards’ ringer, because the rest weren’t all that powerful. Gloe was able to pick them off one by one over the course of a couple hours. The hardest were the sentinels since each of them had a horn that could alert the whole camp, but they were complacent, so he managed.
It was probably a couple hours till dawn when he finished tossing keys in the prison windows. It was hard to tell. He leapt up to a rough and rested for a moment. He wasn’t physically tired of course, but captivity had taken its toll. He just needed a minute to regain his equilibrium.
He was pretty sure it was summer. It had been fall when they took Tranche. How long had he been captive? A little under a year? Multiple years? Not worth thinking about right now.
Many of the prisoners were swarming out now, looting the guards and breaking into the armory and vault. Some were already fleeing. It was time to go. No one would take notice of him in all the chaos.
In that he turned out to be wrong. “G-good evening.” Oddly enough that voice sounded familiar. He turned.
“I-it i-is you, i-isn’t i-it?” The man laughed nervously, but with a note of wonder in his voice. “Glad.”
Gloe cocked his head. The man was badly mutilated, his face marred. His limbs shook slightly, but he seemed to be somewhat intact and healthy. Something about him… “Orehih?”
“Y-yes.” The man managed a twisted smile. “Did y-you d-do this?”
“Ehkh.”
“Oresus, don’t makhe him talkh. Khan’t you see they tookh his teeth and tongue?” The woman spoke with an odd rasping sibilance. It wasn’t hard to see why. She wasn’t human.
Her appearance resembled a tall humanoid crossed with some sort of bug, but she was in worse shape than Oresus. Many of her eyes had been crushed and two of her arms were mere stumps. More stumps on her back suggested she had lost four appendages in total. Those that remained looked functional but twisted, forcing her to hold and move them at strange angles. Her exoskeleton was smashed and warped throughout. One of her mandibles was cracked too, but it didn’t keep her from courtesy.
“Thankh you.” She gave a slight but gracious nod. “I wish we khould have helped you khill these bastards.” She turned to go.
“W-where have y-you been?”
“All. Ong ah all.”
“The w-wall? And y-you escaped and c-came here?”
The woman turned back, a glint in her eye. “Reckhless. Oresus, do you trust him?”
“H-he’s strange, b-but he did right by us. And h-he’s p-powerful. C-compared to m-me.”
“Do you have a planned eskhape route?” She turned to Gloe.
“O. Ong all. O khee.”
She paused for a minute, interpreting. “Alright. Oresus and I have a plan, which you’ve just made possible. My name is Emokha. I thinkh it might be worth dragging you along.”
Gloe laughed, for the first time in so long. “Eye ike. Ukh oo khagh oo?”