Chapter 135: Craftsmanship
In a dark cell.
Soren saw dried bloodstains everywhere, indicating they had been used many times.
Beside him were scorching coals, branding irons, whips, saws, and various other instruments. The young man before him had long lost his original appearance, now covered with dozens of whip marks, appearing bloody. There were burn scars on his chest and side of his face from branding, and a slave mark was branded on his forehead, with his fingernails plucked out one by one. The bloody scene made the two young girls behind the middle-aged woman change color, almost making one of them gag, but they managed to hold it in.
“You!… You group of… I curse you all…”
The young man’s words were slurred, seemingly due to the heavy blood loss, but his gaze remained venomous, cursing them with a twisted expression.
The Constable seemed to want to regain his authority, picking up the whip and delivering a harsh strike, causing lacerations on the young man’s skin, panting as he said, “Priest Tinaer, look! He has completely been controlled in spirit by the Evil God; no matter how we torture him, he will only say these things.”
The middle-aged woman’s expression changed slightly, as if she had not encountered much bloodshed in her pampered life.
She turned to glance at Soren, seemingly wanting to ask if he had any solution. Soren’s demeanor was calm; he had seen so much that the current situation hardly fazed him. He slowly said, “Can you heal his injuries? If this continues, he will die from excessive blood loss very soon!”
The middle-aged woman hesitated for a moment before raising her hand to cast a healing spell.
The power of the divine technique began to take effect, and the blood on the young man quickly began to recover, as if he regained some spirit. He opened his mouth to curse again. However, Soren directly stuffed a rag into his mouth, blocking the curses he wanted to expel. He turned to the others and quietly said, “The next scene might be a bit inappropriate for children; I think it’s better if you go outside.”
The people present clearly hesitated.
The middle-aged woman frowned. Then she turned and walked outside, instinctively feeling that what the adventurer was saying was true.
She did not want to witness something too hard to accept.
The Constable had an unpleasant expression but did not leave, as he was curious to see what Soren planned to do. The young man before him had endured all the torture without uttering a word, continuously cursing them for more than an hour. He did not believe that this adventurer could have any remarkable methods.
“Step back a bit.”
Soren glanced at the others, signaling them to stand at a distance, and then said, “Do not speak, do not interrupt me. What I am about to do requires a lot of concentration; I don’t want anyone to disturb my work.”
“Do you understand?”
The tone was very annoying, but that cold gaze made everyone shiver involuntarily.
Soren smiled, the expression somewhat hard to describe.
He walked up to the young man and leaned in close to whisper in his ear, as if talking to himself, “Do you know? I’m feeling quite frustrated today! After seeing what you all did, I suddenly feel like a joke for this past month. I brought Vivian so far away from a dangerous place, only to feel like I’ve stumbled into another dangerous one.”
“It’s truly hard to find peace!”
“Finding a safe place to hide is really difficult. I’m not afraid of battle, nor do I fear death; I just want her to grow up in a relatively safer environment.”
“After all, she is only eight years old. Is it too much to ask for her to grow up away from bloody violence and with some happiness?”
“But it seems like the heavens are against me.”
“Maybe there really is no place to escape; no matter what, you can’t escape this.”
“Thinking back now.”
“Gloria’s divination for Vivian saw countless blood and fire; maybe that really is fate. We’ve encountered so much along the way, desperately trying to avoid it but still ending up facing it. I don’t know if it’s my fate or Vivian’s. Perhaps it’s just our fates intertwined like this.”
“Honestly, I don’t even know what I want to say. Maybe I just want to talk casually.”
“Because what I’m about to do is something you definitely won’t want to see. But you must bear witness to the entire process, for you are my work.”
Soren slowly drew out the curved blade. His hand trembled slightly but quickly steadied like a rock. Only his finger joints turned white, possibly from exerting too much force.
He looked into the young man’s eyes and softly said, “The Whip Maiden’s believers are actually quite annoying.”
“Because you have a specialty in resisting pain and torment, normal interrogation methods are largely ineffective on you. When I was in the Underdark, I saw the Spider Queen’s priests at a loss with you. But unfortunately for you, I know a method that works quite well on you, and coincidentally, I had once foolishly learned this method from someone.”
“Do you know what it is?”
Soren leaned closer to the young man’s ear, this eerie whisper adding psychological pressure and making him uneasy, causing him to squirm, trying desperately to distance himself.
Soren smiled, though it looked devilish, and softly said, “Skinning!”
“My craftsmanship isn’t that great; the best skills are found in the Abyss and Hell before they reach the Underdark. However, I would like to think I am somewhat better than a mundane executioner, after all, I have received some professional training. Do you know the Underdark? It’s the domain of the Drow, masters of torture, some methods even more cruel than demons!”
“Skinning is a delicate job; only when you have completely peeled off a layer of human skin can you be considered to just barely have entered the field.”
“Back when I foolishly trained, my trainer was a Drow master of interrogation. Do you know what he wore? A very impressive piece of legendary equipment, more solid than many knight armors, called the ‘Human Skin Armor.’ Only the most evil, those destined to fall into the Abyss after death, would wear such a thing!”
“He told me that a qualified skinner must ensure that after completely peeling off a layer of human skin, the work must still be alive.”
“That’s considered to have truly reached a qualified level.”
“Actually, I can’t guarantee you’ll stay alive, but you should last for a while. After all, I am exceptionally agile, and there’s also a Third Tier priest outside.”
Soren’s voice was low, only audible to the tortured one; those standing at a distance heard nothing.
The young man hung up, trembling all over, the fear in his eyes increasingly intense. He wanted to say something but his mouth was stuffed, only able to emit muffled sounds.
Soren raised the curved blade, looking at him with a smile, as if chatting with a friend, “Honestly, I would never have done such a thing before!”
“Unfortunately, you all happen to have lowered my bottom line today, because I am truly angry.”
“Very, very angry.”
“They say that the Goddess of Torment’s believers enjoy suffering; I wonder if you can enjoy this process. I know your endurance is good, and right now, you probably won’t tell me what I want to know.”
“But that’s fine.”
“I’m an honest man. I think it would be best to let you feel my craftsmanship first before deciding whether to tell me.”
“Right?”
Soren expressionlessly raised the curved blade and then slowly and steadily cut along the top of the young man’s head. The force was not great, but his hand was steady, cutting smoothly from the scalp down the back of the neck, then slicing through the skin on the spine, drawing a clean line down to the end of the spine.
The tortured one trembled all over, the fear in his eyes almost entirely overshadowing the pain. He struggled desperately, but he could still feel the skin and flesh on his back being stripped away. It was beyond just pain; the pain was not as terrifying as imagined. What was truly terrifying was not the suffering inflicted by the other!
The others present seemed to realize something; the Constable’s face changed slightly as he turned away, unable to bear looking at Soren any longer.
“Don’t move.”
Soren gently pinched the young man’s neck and slowly said, “If you move, the work won’t be complete. This is only the back; next will be the arms and thighs. It is said that an adept skinner can first peel off the scalp and then treat other parts. I don’t have such superb skills; I can only handle the others first, letting you see your other parts.”
Blood dripped one by one.
Some guards could no longer bear it and turned to flee outside, seemingly feeling that looking any longer would lead to nightmares.
Soren cautiously sliced along the young man’s arm, then looked up at him. The young man emitted muffled sounds, his eyes filled with fear and pleading. Soren said softly, “It seems you want to say something?”
The tortured one nodded desperately, exceedingly vigorously.
“Very good.” Soren slowly retracted the curved blade, then said, “This job is actually quite exhausting; it’s great if you’re willing to talk.”
Snap.
Soren snapped his fingers, removing the rag from the young man’s mouth, and called out behind him, “Please, Priest, come in. He’s willing to speak now.”
The Constable stiffened for a moment before walking outside. He did not know why his calves trembled, almost stumbling to the ground.
Soren, with his back to the tortured one, slowly withdrew the curved blade, his hand slightly trembling.
But soon he took a deep breath, all emotions gradually calming.
…………
(PS: The next two days will have two updates as I slightly recover, then continue with a burst of updates.) (To be continued ~^~)
