A man was bound with silver chains in a dimly lit cell. His arms were outstretched on both sides, and his legs were spread apart. The flesh of his wrists and ankles became red due to the silver. He whimpered all the time, closing his eyes. His pale face was covered with sweat beads. He had a huge scar on his chest that ran all the way down to his stomach. That wound has not healed yet. Blood was dripping from it.
Creak…
A tall figure came in, pushing the iron door open.
The man slowly opened his eyes with a narrow squint and looked at the person standing in front of him. He chuckled and hung his head down.
"Vincent... you defeated me again." He smirked and threw him a scornful look.
"You wouldn't have ended up like this if you had known you weren't going to win from me," Vincent stated flatly, his eyes roving all over his body. This is what you did to me. How do you feel?"
Dylan sneered, "Why are you keeping me alive? Kill me."