Chapter 2.

Julius awoke in a dark and stale room, encompassed by cold stone walls. The air was thick and heavy with the scent of dampness and something metallic. A dim torch flickered on the far wall, casting shadows across the chamber. He was no longer clad in his combat armour. His body was left bare except for a rough cotton loincloth wrapped around his waist. His wrists and ankles were restrained by thick iron cuffs, bolted to the cold, stone bed beneath him.

[Operator, you're conscious.]

Ares's voice crackled to life in his mind.

[Ares apologizes for not perceiving and protecting you from the threat you faced. Maledictus's poison does not match any records or anything ever seen by Earth's combined forces.]

Julius inhaled slowly, testing the limits of his bindings before exhaling in frustration. "Most likely magical in nature."

[Definitely, Operator. Ares would have detected it otherwise.]

Julius stilled his movements. Struggling now would only waste valuable energy. There would come a moment when his captors would need him mobile. That would be his opportunity.

"Ares?"

[Yes, Operator?]

"What's the situation since I was rendered unconscious?"

[Operator, since incapacitation, you have been moved approximately three kilometres away from the Order's Holy Cathedral. You are now within an underground facility. Intentions unknown, though historical patterns prelude to this being for experimental purposes.]

Julius's jaw tightened. "They want to experiment... on me?"

[Most likely, Operator. I would caution against allowing them to do so, as this could be severely detrimental to your health and mission parameters. Your priority should be to escape as soon as possible.]

Julius stared at the flickering torch, thoughts racing. He had no weapons, no armour, and no clear understanding of his captors' capabilities.

Footsteps echoed down the corridor outside, the sound methodical and deliberate. Soon coming to a halt before the steel door.

A sharp clink-clink echoed from the other side of the door. His captors unlocked the cell door, and shortly after the door's hinges protested loudly as the door opened and a robed figure eerily quiet entered.

The Figure's robe dragged against the floor as he approached Julius, only his soft footsteps filled the room. Julius felt his gaze fall upon him, still unmoving on the table. Matching his gaze, Julius watched him stop before him. Looking down upon him as if looking almost sorry for his Imprisonment.

A cold and calculating, masculine voice came from beneath the hood. "Forgive me, Saviour. But you must be reforged in the Goddess's image." 

"Why?"

"For it is the Pope's grand design, of course."

Julius scoffed, "And what kind of grand design is that? How to treat hair loss?"

"You dare mock the holy father?" The Figure visibly shook with his words, turned around and exited the room.

"it seems that before our Pope's will is executed, I must teach you humility. To stand before the holy father and dare insult such a blessed figure, Goddess Guide me..."

He soon reentered now carrying various tools by large trolley, some identifiable and some not. Scapels, hammers, blacksmith tongs, this place seemed rather well-fitted for torturing. Julius pondered, maybe it was a reeducation facility. 

"Are you comfortable?" the figure seemed to have calmed down and was absorbed in arranging his various tools around Julius's bed. 

"Ah, this should go here, this too..." It remained like this for a few minutes, Julius remaining silent as the figure prepped the scene almost like prepping a performance only to be witnessed by himself. 

"Can't forget this one, forgot it last time. Won't forget it again." He murmured as he pulled out a fireplace poker, setting it down next to the others.

"Now let's begin!"

Rubbing his hands together he picked up the poker. His eyes travelled up and down its length almost molesting it with his passionate gaze. 

"I won't forget you again my precious, now will you help me teach this wicked one how to behave?"

A short moment elapsed, his gaze unbroken with the poker.

"I knew you wouldn't abandon me, my love. Let's get you heated up, shall we?"

Raising his other hand, the figure grabbed the other end and somehow produced fire out of his hand. Soon the poker was red hot heated by the figure's intense flames.

"I always love this part." He said, continuing to point the red-hot end at Julius. Julius could feel the heat from here, smell the scent of burning iron.

"Don't you? It always brings me so much joy to see my beauty aflame." 

The man hung the poker over Julius's abdomen, pointing it downward, clenching his fist around its grip. 

"Now, let's begin." Sinking the poker into Julius's flesh brought excruciating pain, the smell of burnt hair quickly filling the room.

Julius awoke, blinking back the pain from all over his body. The room was still filled with the smell of his own cauterized wounds and blood. Julius struggled to regain his breath, still coughing out a mix of blood and water from his lungs.

[Operator, your condition is critical. Estimated recovery in progress. Reassessing structural integrity of restraints…]

Silence consumed the room once more apart from his staggered breathing. No later as he recovered his breath did the door creak open once more and his torturer re-enter the room. he seemed more subdued, satisfied with his work. He stood a few meters away, relishing in Julius's appearance 

"Beautiful..." He murmured.

Sick, this man was twisted. Julius shuddered, pain shooting through his body as he flexed muscles he shouldn't have.

"Now, my newest piece. Let me mould you into the perfect being you can be..."

Julius remained still as his torturer came within reach. Remaining still even as he unbuckled him from his cuffs.

As the last cuff came undone. Julius knew it was either now or never, filtering out his wavering body's intense pain and protest. He began his first and maybe his only chance at an escape attempt. 

Julius didn't hesitate.

The moment the last cuff clicked open, he struck. His arm shot forward, fingers curling around the torturer's throat. His captor barely had time to gasp before Julius wrenched him forward, using every ounce of his remaining strength to throw him off balance. The man was entirely surprised by Julius's newfound strength falling backwards and tripping over his robe.

Falling onto the floor, Julius quickly straddled his captor, swinging one leg over his chest to use his knees to pin the man's arms to the ground. Using his momentum and weight to keep the man immobile.

"You heathen! Get off me at once!"

"No."

"Then face the Goddess's holy flame!"

Flames soon erupted from his hands, threatening to burn Julius to a crisp. firing up toward his face, the intensity enough to blister his skin in seconds. He braced through the pain, shifting his hands to grip the man's wrists and slamming them against the cold stone floor. The man screamed, but Julius didn't stop. 

With his life on the line, and the adrenaline pumping. He twisted the man's flames inwards. using his own fire, to engulf his hood. His eyes went wide with terror as his robe caught aflame.

He thrashed beneath Julius, shrieking, but the soldier held firm, pushing the burning hands into plunging into the man's skull. The scent of charred meat filled the air, sickening and thick. Skin blackening, hair igniting, and within seconds, the man's cries became gurgles, then silence. 

Julius knew time was of the essence continuing on, the longer he took the more chances the church would mobilise to quash his escape. He knew that he couldn't dare to hope to win against one of those paladins. 

Frisking his now-dead captor, he grabbed the keys to the cell, the still-bloodied poker and a pouch full of some coins. Moving towards the door, he heard nothing outside. 

A shift change? Possibly.

Opening the door, Julius walked into a lit corridor. Cells along the walls, no guards in sight. At least for now.

Now to spark a prison riot.