"Cough, cough."
Natsuki Subaru, waking from a coma, was drenched with a bucket of cold water. Suspended in a spread-eagle position, his vision gradually cleared, revealing a damp, moldy basement redolent of blood.
The walls were lined with horrifying torture instruments.
"Who exactly are you? Who exactly are you?!" Subaru struggled, struggling against the ropes, his eyes scanning the figures before him. Cloaked in shadows, five individuals stood silently, their only visible feature being their piercing purple diamond eyes.
One stepped forward, a small knife glinting in the dim light. A chill ran down Subaru's spine, his hair standing on end. The second cloaked figure forced a rag into his mouth, silencing his pleas.
"Flaying," the third figure spoke coldly, "Start at the spine, splitting the back skin in one cut. Slowly peel the skin from the muscles, tearing it open like a butterfly spreading its wings."
Subaru's eyes widened in horror as searing pain shot down his back. He wailed, pleading for mercy, but the cloaked figures were relentless, beginning a full day of excruciating torture.
When he next awoke, Subaru found himself back in the tavern. Pale and trembling, he knelt, haunted by the memories of pain. Fear and despair consumed him. He had to escape.
He leaped from the window, only to find more than a dozen guards with purple diamond eyes blocking the alleys. Instantly, he was transported back to the basement, still suspended in the spread-eagle position, awaiting the next round of torment.
For two days and nights, Subaru endured endless torment. Over the following cycles, he faced boiling, castration, amputation, needle insertion, live burial, and sawing.
Returning again and again to the tavern, Subaru's spirit began to fracture. Fifty times, he was subjected to abominable acts, reducing him to a hollow shell. By the hundredth death, his body and soul were indistinguishable from a lifeless corpse.
In his spiritual void, darkness consumed him. He sat on the floor, numb and empty, enveloped by fear, despair, and helplessness.
From the shadows emerged a figure in a long, pitch-black dress, radiating disgust, madness, and resentment. She had tried to awaken Subaru over the last fifty cycles, but each attempt revealed how fragile he had become.
Her voice, initially venomous and broken, gradually softened. Snow-white hands cupped his face as if holding a priceless treasure. Her words were full of encouragement, love, and expectation.
"You can do it, you can do it! You have to come see me. You cannot give up now. I've been waiting for you. I believe in you."
Yet Subaru's hollow eyes remained empty, unresponsive.
Outside, several Lizardmen stormed the tavern, but an inky darkness engulfed them, ending their lives instantly. The darkness expanded, consuming the sunlight as it radiated from the tavern's center.
On a nearby building, Lucien Graves observed. For the 101st time, he watched the darkness devour everything in its path. His expression hardened, and he swiftly retreated. Energy fluctuations shook the entire kingdom. Screams filled the streets as citizens fled in panic.
A meteor streaked across the sky. Lucien's gaze narrowed, focusing on a striking figure amidst the encroaching darkness.
The young man was astonishing: fiery red hair, clear blue eyes, a slender, upright build that could be a painting come to life. Every gesture radiated kindness, honesty, courage, humility, and incorruptible integrity. He was the epitome of a true hero, devoted to the kingdom's prosperity—a knight among knights.
He was Reinhardt van Astrea, a living anomaly, nearly flawless in every way. Even the surging darkness, created by the Jealous Witch, paused its expansion at his presence.
Lucien's mouth twitched. The darkness's halt confirmed what he suspected: Reinhardt's strength was so immense that even the Jealous Witch regarded him with caution.
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