Chapter 6: Stockholm Syndrome
Lloyd awoke from suffocating darkness to the noise of a soft rumbling. He was back in the carriage. His breathing hitched as realization struck. Again?
He was back in the carriage. The same damn one.
His fingers curled into a trembling fist, nails carving deep crescents into his palm until warm blood trickled between his fingers. His body shook—not from fear, not from exhaustion, but from the sheer, unrelenting rage that boiled within him. His jaw clenched so tightly it felt like his teeth might crack, his breath ragged and seething through bared teeth. His entire body tensed, veins pulsing against his skin, his muscles coiled like a beast on the verge of snapping its chains. His eyes, wide with rage, burned with an intensity that could melt steel.
He wasn't afraid.
All he felt was pure anger.
And nothing in this world could stop him from tearing apart every last one of those bastards.
They tried to break him. Reduce him to cattle. But this time, this time is different.
'I need to calm down and think of a plan, how can I get revenge on that prick?' Lloyd didn't even consider the option of running, he didn't care about anything at that moment, he didn't even wonder why he was still alive. All he held was a deep unrelenting wish to see his torturer dead.
This wish is the first thing Lloyd wanted in this world.
So he came up with a plan, he would repeat his steps. Follow the kidnappers underground, Purposely get caught, wait a few days, and arrive at the auction house.
And that's what he did.
There he sat in a wooden box once again, unable to break free. However this time he had a plan. An ingenious one at that.
Gritting his teeth, Lloyd reached down to his left forearm. Pain flared as he ripped off a bandage, revealing an ugly, jagged wound. Within it, nestled deep in his flesh, was the metal shard he had stolen and embedded into his body before being captured by kidnappers. Blood oozed as he clenched his jaw, pinching the shard between his fingers and slowly sliding it out. A fresh wave of agony threatened to pull him under, but he endured. He had endured far worse.
Once free, he pressed the bandage back down to staunch the bleeding and gripped the shard tightly. With careful precision, he began to saw through the wooden bars of his box. Each scrape, each splintering crack of wood, was a countdown to freedom.
Minutes stretched into hours of unrelenting sawing, these cages were made of the finest oak wood. Then, with a final snap, the bars gave way.
Lloyd crawled through the jagged opening, landing softly on the cold stone floor. He scanned the dimly lit room—wooden crates stacked in corners, a single iron door on the far end. He crept forward, his heartbeat steady, his breath controlled. He had no time for hesitation.
'Firstly, i need to release the demons' Lloyd grinned
Lloyd exited through the doorway and The underground prison stank of iron and decay. Torches flickered along the damp stone walls, casting grotesque shadows over the rows of locked cells. But Lloyd wasn't here for the prisoners—at least, not the human ones.
'The demons must be held deeper inside'
Lloyd finally arrived to see two men in iron-plated armor, spears in hand. He hid around a corner.
'This must be where the demons are. This is the only place that's heavily guarded,' Lloyd thought.
Lloyd watched from the darkness, waiting. He had no weapon, no power. Just a body that refused to break and a mind that had already shattered and rebuilt itself.
He gripped the shard in his palm and stepped forward.
"What the—"
Lloyd lunged, ramming the jagged metal into the first guard's throat before he could finish speaking. A gurgled scream erupted as the man collapsed, clutching his neck. The second turned, eyes wide—too slow. Lloyd grabbed the fallen spear, twisting it upward into the man's rib cage.
A choked gasp, a spurt of blood, and silence.
This was Lloyds first kill In the walls, he felt nothing.
Lloyd stood over their bodies, breath heavy. He wiped his hands on his tattered shirt and picked up the ring of keys from one of the corpses.
He opened the door with a key and entered the room
The cell reeked of sulfur and death. Within, shackled by thick chains, were beings that barely resemble the living. Their glowing eyes pierced through the darkness, watching his every move.
Fear coiled in his gut, but he forced it down. He needed them. And they needed him.
He dangled the keys in front of them. "I'm an arcanist," he lied. "If I let you out, you follow my orders."
The demons didn't move, did not speak. But something was wrong.
Their expressions weren't defiant. They were terrified.
One, a large hunched creature with obsidian like skin, whispered, "You… You smell like him."
Lloyd's brow furrowed. "Are you an ArchDemon? Like who?"
No answer.
'Whatever, an archdemon will be useful'
He clenched his fist. "It doesn't matter. I'll let you out, and you'll do one thing for me—kill every human in that auction house and you're free to go"
The demons hesitated. But this was their only chance of freedom, and what demon would jump in joy at the rare opportunity to kill humans, their captors at that.
So they nodded along
"Alright, but if you lay your hands on any other human than inside that chamber I will personally skin you and cook your flesh and finally feast on you alive."
They nodded with more enthusiasm this time
'It seems these ones can understand what i'm saying, despite being lesser fiends' Is what Lloyd thought.
However it was more their instinct of fear that understood the words he spoke
Lloyd smirked and unlocked the cage.
The auction chamber became a bloodbath.
Screams tore through the underground hall as demons descended upon the wealthy bidders, ripping through flesh, tearing apart the men and women who had laughed and bid on human lives.
Lloyd moved with singular focus, stepping over mangled bodies as he sought out his tormentor. The torturer—the man with the twisted grin, the man who had ripped him apart piece by piece.
And there he was, frozen in fear at the edge of the stage. His guards in a bout with a demon.
A wide smile appeared on Lloyds face
Lloyd wasted no words. He lunged, driving his stolen blade into the man's gut.
The torturer gasped, blood pooling from his mouth as he staggered back. Lloyd yanked the blade free and slashed again, and again, and again. He laughed maniacally with joy
He didn't stop until the man was nothing but a heap of shredded flesh.
Lloyd turned to look upon the chaos that he brought upon the chamber.
"I told you I'd kill you all"
All the anger that resided inside of him could be set free.
Lloyd walked over to the one of many dead bodies and reached down into the waistcoat of a half eaten man. He took out an arc link and accessed the emergency radar.
The arcane knights would come. And they would clean up the mess he had left behind.
Lloyd didn't wait around for them. He quickly snatched a pouch of gold coins and made a break for it.
Slipping through the outskirts of the auction house, Lloyd found himself in a small town outside the eastern wall. The stink of blood clung to him, but luckily it was night and the streets were empty. He put on a long grey robe he stole to cover the blood that clung to him and paid for a carriage heading back to Eastwatch.
The ride was silent.
His body felt heavier than ever, and the weight in his chest didn't disappear. His tormentor was dead. The auction was in ruins.
So why? !"Why do I feel so empty?" He Questioned clutching at his heart
What was left? Nothing. Lloyd felt hollow. He wasn't happy, He didn't feel good. He couldn't forget the pain he felt.
He glanced at his bloody stained hands. Blood that will never never wash away.
Lloyd didn't know what he was like before losing his memories…
But Lloyd knew that he was never coming back.
By the time he reached home, dawn was creeping over the horizon. He collapsed onto his bed, exhaustion pulling him under.
When he woke, Lloyd was surprised to find a black cat lazily resting on his lap
'a cat?' Lloyd thought while sitting up on his bed
'It feels strangely familiar, where have I seen this cat before?'
Lloyd petted the cat which woke on his touch. The cat stretched and let out a large yawn.
Unsure of what to do, Lloyd picked the cat up and chucked it outside. After all, Lloyd was busy. He still needed to process what had happened and how he did not die. He also had an interview with the principal of the prestigious… Prestigious academy? Today.
Lloyd sat up in his bed, and pondered. 'I need to prepare for the interview, I can't exactly go wearing rags covered in blood. But more importantly, how am I still alive.?"
He thought back to the moment he died, and remembered a voice calling out to him.
"Who was that? What did he mean by I am you?" He strained his mind, but came to no conclusion.
'Either way this person saved me, I won't let this chance go to waste again.'
Lloyd then prepared to leave the house.
He had 2 missions.
New clothes. His old pair was covered in blood and had to be thrown out and now only owned 1 pair of even more tattered clothes. Food. Lloyd was starving he couldn't remember the last time he ate
So he dumped a bucket of cold water on his head. Chucked his rags on and left the house.
He walked off into the city centre. Along with the black cat which walked at his side.
'It seems it's going to follow me about. It also has a strange resemblance to the cat I saw in my memories.'
As Lloyd walked around he realised the news had already spread to the local papers.
The arcane knights had found the remnants of the underground network, rescued the captive children, and launched a full-scale investigation. The auction was finished. The perpetrators were dead.
No one suspected him.
'Exactly as planned.'
Lloyd lazily walked into a clothing store. He walked up to the counter where a lady was sat and chucked a gold coin onto the table.
"Get me your best" He spoke
"R-right away sir!." she stumbled quickly dashing to find a measuring tape
'Gold coins are a lot more valuable than i thought'
Lloyd exited the store. In a fashionable manner might I add.
Lloyd's new attire was simple yet refined, a stark contrast to the blood-soaked rags he had endured before. A fitted black tunic hugged his frame, its fabric sturdy yet lightweight, allowing for ease of movement. The sleeves, cuffed at the wrists, bore subtle silver embroidery—nothing extravagant, but enough to hint at a sense of elegance.
A pair of dark, well-tailored pants accompanied the tunic, secured by a leather belt with a polished steel buckle. His boots, made of supple black leather, rose just past his ankles, their soles reinforced for both comfort and durability.
Draped over his shoulders was the most striking piece of his ensemble—a deep midnight blue trench coat, lined with a faint silver trim. The fabric was smooth, flowing effortlessly with his movements, yet heavy enough to offer warmth against the cold air. A clasp at the front, shaped like an intricate crest, held the robe in place, allowing it to billow slightly as he walked.
Lloyd smiled. Satisfied with the clothes.
He grabbed some food and headed home.
A week had passed since he had been captured.
And now, he had readied himself for the day, Selene arrived to take him to the academy.
She had no idea what happened.
It was time to move forward from that incident. If Lloyd could.
End Of Chapter 6: Stockholm Syndrome