Chapter 55

Chapter 55: Look at Me

Neken felt like he had been in a long dream. He dreamt of being back in his hometown, a time before the war. The air was filled with the fragrance of flowers from the town's flower beds and the aroma of seafood being cooked in roadside restaurants, not the stench of rotting corpses or the smoke from burnt houses. People were not tense, did not neurotically distrust every stranger, and did not resort to cannibalism. The humidity and temperature were just right, unlike the swamps and miasma that covered Velen, which felt like a mud pit.

Neken began to miss everything about his hometown before the war.

"Wake up, scum."

But then, the dream environment changed. He found himself running aimlessly through the jungle. He didn't know why he was running, but a bone-chilling sensation of grinding teeth and sucking blood surged from the depths of his marrow. Behind him, there was a heavy, rapid pounding sound.

In his dream, Neken found it absurd. Running through the forest in heavy armor? Chasing me? Are you some kind of monster? Well, it's just a dream, dreams don't make sense... it's just a dream...

"I said, wake up, scum!"

In a daze, Neken felt a figure moving in front of him, while his perspective was from the ground. Then, he felt his wrist being stepped on. The sensation of flesh pulled Neken back to reality, and he opened his eyes, looking at his trapped wrist. This part wasn't too bad, as the intention was to "step on," not to "crush."

The "hissing" sound filled his ears. It was the sound of meat being roasted at high temperatures, the fat inside bursting open. Neken's scattered gaze focused and quickly turned to horror.

"Ahhhhh!!!"

It was his hand! His hand!

It was their campfire, not long ago it had an arm roasting on it.

Neken's body, which had been lying flat, arched up instantly in pain. He frantically tried to pull his wrist away, but the boots with steel shin guards seemed to be nailed to the ground.

"What do you want? Who are you? Help! By the plague, help!" Lan slightly tilted his head, watching the man beneath him wriggle like a worm.

Slowly, he moved his foot off Neken's wrist, away from the fire. Neken gained a moment of respite from the continuous burn pain. By now, his face was devoid of color, and large beads of sweat rolled down from his head.

He instinctively looked around, but the sight around him shattered his last bit of sanity. Tears and snot of fear gushed out, and his lips trembled as if he was shivering.

"Ahhhhhh!"

The seven people gathered in this small camp were all concentrated in this clearing. Three were killed on the spot, and those who turned to run had been transformed into "various shapes." Kneeling on the ground, their hands reaching for their heads, but those heads had turned into charred black carbon.

The dark, gaping mouths made Neken imagine their desperate screams. And the abnormally thick necks, their skin covered in blood vessels and a bluish-black hue. The bewilderment from waking up from a dream, the sudden panic and shock from the severe pain, and the sight before him.

Neken trembled and turned his head to look at the man stepping on his wrist. A face with an exotic style, wearing heavy armor, not a single scratch on the cotton outer cover.

He finally remembered his ordeal. Burning a human arm with his teammates, then an enemy emerged from the woods, tearing apart anyone who dared to draw their sword. They ran, then passed out. When he woke up again, this man was stepping on his wrist, pressing his hand onto the ember pile.

"A bit disappointed." The man said expressionlessly. "I thought the cannibals' ferocity would last until their last breath."

Neken was too terrified to speak properly.

"M-mercy! Please, please!"

"When life and death are not in your hands, don't beg for mercy, show your value."

The man's tone was calm, but because it was so calm, in this camp filled with grotesquely shaped corpses, it was terrifying.

"Neken, a fisherman. Your friends told me you are the oldest and highest-ranking person in this camp. They told me a lot about you, your background, your experiences, your status in this group. But they didn't know more, so they are like this now. I sincerely hope you can have a different ending." Lan gestured around him with his hand, his tone steady and calm.

"A slightly big-headed boy, taken two days ago, wearing a washed-out blue linen shirt, with nothing on him."

"I ran all the way from Oreton to Condyle, killing and torturing along the way. Because you kidnapped this child. I killed your hunters, I killed the knight soldiers stationed in Condyle, and then here. To make you fear, I used the Igni sign on that person's head, turning it into charcoal. To make you not dare to lie, I grabbed that person's throat and used the Aard sign to pump air into his stomach." Lan pointed to each of the corpses one by one.

"I vomited while torturing, Neken. Because unlike you, I don't derive pleasure or satisfaction from human screams and cries. On the contrary, those sounds make my bones ache uncomfortably."

"But don't misunderstand, even though I vomited, the torture process was never delayed. Because I know vomiting is just my physiological reaction, and in terms of moral justice, I have no doubt about my actions."

Lan leaned slightly forward, close to Neken. There was indeed a sour smell at the corner of his mouth, the taste of stomach acid.

"In fact, even if I torture another hundred or two hundred of you, I will still feel uncomfortable. But I am also very certain—as long as it helps me save that child, I will not hesitate, no matter how uncomfortable I feel. The lives of cannibal beasts, a thousand of them, are not as important as one good child. That's how I think, Neken."

As he spoke, Lan's foot pressed on Neken's wrist, moving it back towards the ember pile.

"Now, tell me where the child is. If you don't know, tell me who might. Or you can be a tough guy, endure the torture, face danger without flinching, and die without surrendering. In fact, I hope you do that."

"Like I told your companions, the intelligence from a tough guy who breaks down is often more reliable. Whereas a blabbermouth from the start gives out a lot of information, and I have to worry about which is useful and which is not, wasting time. Does that make sense, Neken?"

Lan leaned forward, close to Neken, looking directly into his eyes.

"Come, look at me, speak."

He said calmly: "Let me see if you are lying, if you are hiding something."

*****

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