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墨書 Inktalez
The voice of the God of Happiness was like a melodious flute, echoing in the spacious hall. "Baron Morgan, Asa priest, I grant you this slave, Alan. Please use him to please me."
Baron Morgan and Asa priest looked at each other, with an evil smile gradually appearing on their faces. Baron Morgan lightly patted Alan's shoulder, as if examining a precious piece of art.
"Don't worry, God of Happiness," Baron Morgan's voice was deep and full of authority, "We will make you feel very, very pleased."
Priest Asa also walked over, using his finger to stroke Alan's cheek as if evaluating his worth. "Oh, he will be an excellent offering, and God of Happiness will surely be very pleased."
The smiles of the two people sent a chill down Alan's spine, but he couldn't move or escape. He could only kneel there, feeling those gazes piercing into his soul like hooks.
"Well then," the priest Asa turned to Baron Morgan and said, "let's begin."
Two people walked towards Alan together, their steps tight and coordinated, like a carefully choreographed performance. And Alan could only watch all of this happen helplessly, as if he were just a pawn in their hands, destined to be manipulated.
When the first blow landed on his back, Alan's heart filled with fiery anger. This wasn't the first time he had endured such torment, but each instance of pain felt new. His muscles tensed, as if to resist each blow, but such efforts were futile.
"You will regret it..." Alan gritted his teeth and forced these words down, not wanting to give them any satisfaction.
Alan felt like every inch of his skin was burning, every nerve was screaming. His cheeks were heavily slapped, blood mixed with saliva oozing from the corners of his mouth, sticky and unpleasant. He couldn't move, every part of his body was suffering. Deep bruises and wounds were left on his skin, the result of Morgan's cold eyes and vicious fists.
Then, time passed by minute by minute, and the beating and pain continued without end. Alan felt like every moment was an endless hell, his skin torn, blood and sweat mixed together. He thought of his father, mother, and his sister Eilena, all gone, crushed in this unjust world, just like him.
As time went on, Alan felt his anger gradually fade, replaced by a deep sense of powerlessness and numbness. His muscles no longer tensed, and the pain became blurry, like a distant echo. There was no more anger or hatred in his heart, only emptiness.
He thought of his former family, the happy times he once had, but all of that had dissipated like smoke. He no longer even expected any miracles to happen, or for anyone to come and save him. In that moment, Alan felt like a solitary island adrift in an endless darkness, long forgotten and abandoned.
The pain continued, but Alan no longer felt anything. He knew that all of this would lead to no resolution, just like his life, an endless torment and loneliness.
In the end, he no longer thought of anyone, with no more expectations or desires. He simply accepted everything quietly, waiting for it all to end, perhaps that would be his only relief.
Pain and humiliation were like sharp blades, carving into Alan's body and mind. He was tied up in the center of The Sacred Church's largest temple by the soldiers, with the chilling imprint of Baron Morgan's palm still on his cheek. Alan's gaze was empty, staring at the magnificent statue of the God of Happiness on the altar, its mouth upturned in an almost repulsive smile.
Baron Morgan stood in front of Alan, holding a long whip in his hand, raising it high. "This is the will of God!" he shouted, then fiercely struck down.
The sound of the whip cutting through the air and the intense pain on Alan's skin intertwined, echoing the unsettling laughter in the temple. Just as Baron Morgan said, all of this was the "will" of the God of Happiness.
Asa the priest walked over, holding a staff adorned with jewels and runes in his hand. As he walked, a wicked smile appeared at the corner of his mouth. "Baron Morgan, let us enjoy this sacred moment together."
Asa the priest waved his staff and performed a series of complex spells and gestures around Alan. A kind of indescribable energy seemed to pervade the air, awakening and controlling the soldiers lying on the ground one by one, as if they were driven by some dark force.
These soulless bodies were beaten with iron chains, burned with torches, and some even had their skin cut with a dagger. Under their brutality, the laughter of the God of Happiness reached an unbearable peak. That laughter was like a sharp knife, repeatedly piercing the deepest wounds in Alan's heart.
Baron Morgan walked up to Alan, bent down, and looked into his eyes. "See, this is the power of the gods! This is something you lowly creatures can never touch!"
Alan stared at him in pain, his eyes filled with endless anger and humiliation. But at this moment, these emotions seemed to disappear, replaced by an unprecedented loneliness and despair.
The entire temple seemed to be immersed in a suffocating atmosphere of madness. Everyone was enjoying this madness, as if they were truly possessed by the God of Happiness. The only thing that amazed Alan was why, in such madness, he could still clearly hear that chilling laughter.
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