"I hope everything won’t be too bad," Hector said to himself as he sat calmly on the torture chair.
In fact, he felt a bit of worry. When all the other prisoners were scared of this thing, it was clear that it had to be sothing different.
At this mont, he was being bound to the chair with chains around his wrists, and a thick cloth also covered his eyes.
So, he couldn’t see anything around here. He didn’t know why they were doing this to him. Maybe he would go maniacal, or whatever.
He glanced at the prisoner sitting beside him. Even if he couldn’t fully see the prisoner’s shape, he still made out sothing distinct from him.
"What will he look like?" he blinked, although his eyes were completely covered.
"Who knows! Why do I have to care about that? What a stupid thought!" He shrugged his shoulders quietly.
Then... a strange sensation began to run through him, flowing entirely through his body and into his brain, sending a wave of pain throughout.
"Ugh!... Well, so that’s it!" He grimaced in the wave of pain.
His entire body began to shake, enveloped in crimson mana.
The noise of children, chaos, began to echo in his ears. Even though it was real, it was an illusion.
"Damn... So that’s the artifact’s effect."
His head grew stunned and dizzy. He nearly lost all sense of his surroundings, leaving behind only sothing strange and agonizing in his mind.
...
"So, it has begun." Tyrone gazed at Hector while rubbing his chin for a mont.
The crimson mana flowing from Hector at this mont was nothing different from before... Yet, this artifact had a special effect, so no one was too worried about standing near him or anything like that.
Its outco was to suppress—or maybe activate—sothing unknown that Tyrone had never fully understood.
Snapping out of those thoughts, Tyrone turned his gaze to the prisoner beside Hector, who was sitting on the torture chair, though he didn’t seem too comfortable.
"That’s easy to understand... With his power, only prisoners of average strength or higher can endure Hector’s mana.’’
He lightly shook his head, as if it wasn’t too surprising.
The miserable prisoner was shaking violently after a long ti had passed.
However, His expression gradually changed.
"Huh? Ten minutes? What’s wrong? Normally, the mana that old man Oscar released would cause any modest prisoner to lose consciousness in seven minutes. And now, with soone like Hector, why are the symptoms even lighter?" Tyrone slightly scratched the side of his head as the prediction slipped through his fingers.
But his eyes suddenly widened, and he added with a gasp,
"No way!"
It wasn’t only Tyrone—everyone else also turned to horror when looking at the scene.
At this point, there was a large change in the miserable prisoner. He was shivering so violently that blood began to leak from every hole in his body.
From his mouth.
From his eyes.
Even from the pores beneath his skin.
Even though that happened, he still shouted for rescue from the jailer.
His eyes grew bloodied and hollow while crimson blood drenched his face.
Finally, after ten seconds of that agony, his head completely collapsed. Yet, his torso remained stable, thanks to his limbs being tightly bound to the chair.
A chill ran down everyone’s spine in the room.
And then, the first person to break the silence was Berry.
She yelled angrily at the jailer.
"Hey, do sothing! Release his chains right now!"
The jailer, snapping out of his daze, quickly rushed toward the miserable prisoner, who had fallen into a state where no one could tell if he was dead or alive.
However, he had already been too late.
"He’s... dead." The jailer frowned, staring at the collapsed prisoner while checking him.
Then, a wave of noise began to spread.
It started with the prisoners.
Astonishnt.
Fear.
Horror.
"This sucks! Alright, now I’m starting to feel scared instead of excited like before. This has never happened before." Tyrone raised an eyebrow in shock, but nothing he’d said before was as terrifying as what he saw now.
"But that’s not the point now. I ask myself, is there really soone who still wants to be the next test subject?" Tyrone turned his expectant gaze to the others.
Of course, everyone was thinking the sa thing.
To be honest, they weren’t scared of death—everything that had happened in this prison over ti had already been enough. But the worst thing... was the ntal pain.
They would rather die by suicide, any death, than face such horrifying torture.
So, they looked at each other before turning their eyes to the jailer, waiting for his final word.
"Tsk." The jailer grimaced at the situation. But it didn’t take long for him to co up with a solution.
He was a veteran, after all.
Eventually, he sighed a couple of tis, then raised his eyes and scanned the room.
"Don’t worry. I won’t force anyone to do it... yet." He paused, then narrowed his eyes toward Hector.
"No one here needs to endure this... However, if anyone wants a large number of capsules enough to survive until the experint ends, then step forward."
He added evenly,
"And don’t be too nervous about death. I’ll free you guys from this chair the mont I detect even the slightest sign of abnormality."
"Now, make your choice!" His voice echoed loudly again as he walked around.
In his opinion, this experint was too important. This was the perfect ti to gather information.
It was nearly finished!
A few decisive words wouldn’t cost much to release now.
And he truly was a veteran... while many prisoners were hesitating, unsure of what to do, the more vicious ones began to step forward, ready to take on the challenge.
"I want it! Give it to !" Suddenly, a voice rang out, lonely among the common prisoners.
All of them turned in surprise, staring at the pale, emaciated prisoner.
"Hehe... If I die, please give the most beautiful grave!" Tyrone grinned, stretching out his legs confidently.
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