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墨書 Inktalez
Next, Alan was forcefully grabbed by the soldiers, almost unable to move. His body was covered with wounds of varying depths, each one causing excruciating pain. His consciousness was hazy, almost fainting, and each sensation of pain felt like countless knives cutting into his soul.
In front of him, a statue of the God of Happiness stood smiling. Its golden smile and sparkling eyes seemed warm, but to Alan, it was a symbol of irony and mockery.
Just as he was about to lose consciousness, the statue suddenly emitted a golden shockwave. This light wave pierced through the iron bars of the prison cell and directly entered Alan's soul.
Instantly, his consciousness was forcibly brought back, as if a mysterious force was sustaining his life. The pain all over his body seemed to be magnified several times, and he could feel his body being repeatedly struck by a tremendous force from behind. He felt humiliation and shame, yet he was unable to resist in any way. The soldiers and the duke emitted beast-like gasps, and Alan felt his body being forcibly pierced by foreign objects, leaving a burning, tearing sensation lingering within him for a long time.
Asa the priest and the rest of the soldiers stood in front of Alan, stuffing his mouth and causing him to feel close to suffocation. He saw the twisted and satisfied smiles on everyone's faces, and couldn't help but spit out what was in his mouth. However, this seemed to anger Asa the priest, who angrily forced Alan's mouth open and shoved the object back in, causing him intense torment. Sticky, foul-smelling liquid splattered all over Alan's body, making it look like white icing on a cinnamon roll. The pungent male scent kept stimulating Alan's nostrils. Meanwhile, Duke Morgan and his entourage seemed even happier as they proceeded with the next round of torture.
Alan had lifeless eyes, enduring relentless physical blows and violations. In this moment, his state could hardly be considered that of a complete person. He seemed more like an instrument with only a body, devoid of soul and consciousness, being tortured and toyed with at will.
However, the golden shockwave seemed to still reverberate within him, forcing him to face endless pain and torment. Every time he wanted to give up and sink into the dark abyss, the statue of the God of Happiness was like an incessant clock, constantly pulling him back to this suffocating reality.
As sunlight pierced through the multi-colored stained glass of the temple's huge dome, casting mottled gold and red reflections on the marble floor, Alan's body was barely recognizable. His clothes were torn to shreds, revealing skin covered in bruises and wounds. Deep red blood oozed from every wound on his body, flowing down his arms and dripping onto the sacred floor. His face was even more unbearable to look at, contorted by pressure and pain to the point of almost losing its human features.
The soldiers lay on the side, their faces withered, as if being forcibly controlled by the God of Happiness had drained all their life force. In their gray pupils, there was a hint of fear and confusion, as if they didn't know what they had done until their dying moments.
Meanwhile, Duke Morgan and Priest Asa stood not far away, their faces tense, with a gleam of fanaticism and anticipation in their eyes. For them, this was not just a ritual, but the ultimate validation of their faith and power.
At that moment, the statue of the God of Happiness suddenly emitted a dazzling golden light, illuminating the entire temple. Then, a melodious and lazy voice echoed in every corner: "Ahaha, not bad, not bad, you've done well. But this pitiful slave has bored me, end his life and let him become a slave again in another world."
Morgan and Asa looked at each other, a kind of indescribable joy and satisfaction flowing between them. Morgan contemptuously glanced at the helpless Alan on the ground, a wicked smile curling his lips: "Did you hear that, slave? Even the gods think you're not worth existing. In your next life, you will still be a worthless slave, despair!"
Alan felt a sudden intense pain surging from every cell in his body, as if every nerve ending was transmitting hellish torment. He struggled to open his eyes, but his eyelids felt as if they were being crushed by a thousand pounds. His consciousness grew increasingly fuzzy, feeling himself being pulled into an inescapable abyss of endless pain and darkness.
Morgan, the duke, tightened his grip on the sword in his hand, the sense of superiority in his eyes dancing like flames. Without hesitation, he swiftly thrust the sword towards Alan's throat. At the same time, Asa, the priest standing on the other side of Alan, raised his dagger made of black magic and silently plunged it into Alan's heart.
Alan's world suddenly plunged into darkness. Strangely, he felt no pain or panic. His body became as light as straw, as if released from this cruel world. In this endless darkness, he felt a hint of relief and happiness deep within his heart.
In that moment, he thought of the past, of the innocent lives taken, of his family and friends he would never see again. All the pain and anger seemed to find a bittersweet tranquility in that instant.
The happiness in his heart does not come from death itself, but from the realization in this final moment: he is finally no longer a part of this evil world, no longer needing to face all the pain and torment.
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