[You uncorked the bottles of fine wine you had brought, and the rich, intoxicating aroma filled the cell. Barbatos' expression changed imdiately.]
[Imrsive Mode Activated]
Before Lucas appeared a beautiful young woman, her appearance identical to Amos', though her deanor and aura were worlds apart.
"Truly exquisite wine," Lucas remarked, swirling the deep red liquid in his glass with an air of indulgence. "I hear you're a connoisseur. What do you think of this?"
Barbatos sniffed greedily, her nose twitching as she murmured, "Mountain grapes of the finest vintage, pressed by a maiden's delicate feet, left to fernt slowly in oak barrels... A masterpiece!"
Even from the aroma alone, she could discern such intricate details. Lucas had to admit—Barbatos was indeed an expert.
Smiling, he downed the glass in one swift motion. "You're right—it's truly delicious."
Saliva trickled from the corner of Barbatos' mouth as she stared longingly. Her usual playfulness was gone, replaced by an almost animalistic desperation. If she had a tail, it would surely have been wagging furiously. "Let have a sip. No, just a taste—please!"
"No. You'll watch enjoy it, but you won't get a single drop." Lucas declared. To his surprise, the strategy suggested by the Wisdom of the West Wind was incredibly effective. The flas of vengeance reignited within him as Barbatos' expression grew more anguished.
The precious wine flowed freely as Lucas drank one glass after another, as if it were re water. Barbatos, unable to do anything but watch, squird with visible frustration. Her yearning gaze seed to pierce through him.
Hic! Lucas let out a hiccup after finishing several hundred bottles. Even a god's tolerance had its limits. A bit unsteady, he approached Barbatos, holding up a glass. "Want so?"
"Yes! Please, let have it!" Barbatos pleaded, her voice trembling like that of an addict.
"Kneel," Lucas commanded coolly.
Though forcing Barbatos to kneel had never been difficult, she had never willingly done so. Yet this ti, she dropped to her knees without hesitation. "Just one sip! I'm begging you!"
Lucas smirked and tipped the glass slightly, letting a single drop of wine fall onto the tip of his shoe.
"Go on, if you want it so badly. Lick it clean," he sneered, raising his foot. "If you're too slow, it'll dry up."
Barbatos had endured countless days in utter darkness, numb to her suffering because she had long since abandoned hope. But the aroma of the wine symbolized sothing more—freedom, beauty, and joy. It awakened every buried anguish within her.
Lucas had expected so hesitation. But to his astonishnt, Barbatos lifted his shoe with trembling hands, bowing her head reverently as if in worship. She licked the drop clean with a devotion that resembled a pilgrimage.
For the first ti in centuries, her face, usually masked with a false smile, showed genuine happiness.
Her expression enraged Lucas further. Dropping his smirk, he kicked her away. "You could have been drinking this freely. But no, you just had to cross ."
"I was wrong! I was wrong!" Barbatos cried, showing no anger or defiance, only desperation. Crawling back toward him, she whispered, "Just a little more... Please. That taste—it was heaven itself."
Her face, so eerily similar to Amos', was now flushed and glazed with longing. For the first ti, Lucas felt an unfamiliar turbulence in his otherwise placid heart.
Perhaps it was the wine. Or perhaps this cunning wind spirit hadn't entirely given up on the ruse she'd employed from the start.
"Clearly, the humiliation hasn't gone far enough," Lucas muttered, pulling out the his staff. He poured another bottle of wine over its smooth, polished surface, letting the liquid drip down its length.
Pressing the tip to Barbatos's cheek, he sneered. "You like wine, don't you? Drink it."
It was the ultimate degradation. Yet Barbatos, lost in her yearning, lifted the staff without hesitation, carefully licking away every drop of wine.
She was so cautious, so precise, terrified of spilling even a single drop, lest Lucas take it away.
But as she was savoring the fleeting taste, Lucas yanked his staff away. Her face fell instantly, her disappointnt almost pitiful.
"Just one more sip," she begged, her tone groveling. "No matter where you spill the wine—even if it's sowhere filthy—I'll drink it all, I swear!"
"I'll let you drink your fill," Lucas said, lifting her chin. His smile wavered slightly. "But not with this face."
....
After a few hours...
Barbatos never got another taste of wine.
Lucas, as usual, subjected her to his ruthless punishnts.
Among his many thods, impalent was one of the most frequently employed.
Spears, needles, daggers, red-hot iron spikes, poisoned blades—these tools had pierced Barbatos's body countless tis.
But this ti, the instrunt Lucas used to violate her was different. It didn't cause physical pain but destroyed her in another, more profound way.
.....
After the punishnt..
Lucas' drunken haze had largely cleared. Reflecting on the ordeal, he realized that although nominally, this was indeed to punish and torture Barbatos, he had enjoyed the process imnsely.
Deep down, he still loved Amos, and his tenderness toward her had always been ticulous. Yet with Barbatos, there were no such reservations. Despite her identical appearance, Lucas could treat her with the utmost cruelty without hesitation.
For the first ti in centuries, Barbatos, who had always masked her tornt with smile, shed tears.
"You're crying. Finally, you're crying," Lucas murmured, wiping a tear from her cheek and licking it off his finger. "So even your tears are bitter."
Although her recent tornt was lighter than before, what truly devastated Barbatos was the psychological tornt.
"Wine... just give so wine..."
Barbatos stared blankly at the unopened bottles, her only perceived solace now lying in the oblivion of alcohol.
"Want so wine? Dream on," Lucas sneered.
With a casual wave, a razor-sharp wind blade shattered the bottles, spilling their fragrant contents across the dungeon floor. Barbatos, like a lifeless marionette, crawled toward the puddle of wine. But the iron collar around her neck yanked her short, leaving her tongue inches away from the liquid.
The spilled wine would rot and reek, or be consud by rats and insects, all within her sight but forever beyond her reach.
Lucas laughed heartily as he left. It had been centuries since he had felt such a twisted sense of satisfaction.
---
Author's Note: well...
Anyway, extra Chapter at 1200 p.s.
Be quick or I'll fall asleep and you'll have to wait until tomorrow ??
The more you delay in giving stones, the more delayed the extra Chapter will be, its an equivalent exchange, so get back to mining!
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