Chapter 119 Demonic Experiment
Chapter 119 Demonic Experiment
A man lay surrounded by naked women in a grand chamber—bodies tangled on a massive bed, flesh glistening, hips grinding in a slow, heavy rhythm. Then a knock thundered at the door, and the room froze.
“Who the fuck is interrupting me? You got a death wish?” Magnus snarled—he was taking his sister from behind, while Laila and the other servants clung to him, stroking and moaning against his body.
“Lord Magnus! There’s a problem at the prison—mutiny! Some of the prisoners escaped!” a rough voice yelled from the other side of the door.
“Eh—don’t care. Send warriors and kill everybody,” Magnus replied lazily, still pumping his hips into Vadia.
“Yes, like that—harder, deeper, little Magny,” she moaned.
“Sir, we believe it’s the prisoner we brought in a couple days ago—the killer of Lord Maximilian.”
“Damn it.” Magnus groaned, reluctantly pulling out of his sister’s ass and standing up. He began dressing, scowling as Laila and Vadia rose to follow.
“Shit, I was about to come,” Vadia snarled, buckling the straps of her leather armor.
Laila’s face stayed unreadable as she pulled on her long black dress. It wasn’t modesty—it never covered her anyway. The fabric was cut wide open at the breasts, ass, and pussy, leaving her bare in all the places that mattered. Still, she wore it, as if the ritual of dressing carried its own meaning.
The other women gathered around Magnus—his dancers and attendants—still half-naked, trailing him like a living retinue.
“Give me the complete report,” Magnus barked. “And I better have a guilty party to punish for this.”
Outside the prison carved into the mountainside, Magnus arrived with Vadia and Laila at his side. Warriors, executioners, and servants were already gathered, torches casting harsh light over the jagged walls and the massive reinforced gate.
A rough-looking high-grade warrior stepped forward, bowing quickly.
“Lord Magnus. Lady Vadia. We’ve lost contact with the inside. It’s believed some prisoners escaped—sparked a riot—and even released Master Sigil’s experiments from containment.”
Vadia scoffed, folding her arms.
“Did you call Sigil to deal with his stupid monsters?” she asked, her tone dripping with mockery.
“We couldn’t find him in his chambers,” the warrior admitted nervously. “We assume he’s still inside… in one of his testing facilities.”
“Fuck,” Magnus hissed, his jaw tightening. “That’s bad. He’s working on something important for Father.”
He turned sharply to a nearby soldier. “Any word from Father? When does he arrive?”
The man straightened. “Lord Alexander is expected tomorrow, my lord.”
Vadia smirked, lips curling into a cruel smile.
“Don’t get your panties wet, little Magny. As long as those fuckers stay inside, there’s no problem. This is the only exit.”
Inside the prison
Iryoku and Mr. K pressed deeper into the tunnels. They could still hear the racket caused by the monstrous dwarf in the distance. The air reeked of blood and rot.
Executioners emerged again—hulking brutes with axes slick from earlier slaughter, jagged sickles, and cruel daggers made for carving flesh rather than killing.
“Die, bastards!” they roared, charging in a frenzy.
The clash was brutal. Steel rang against steel, snarls echoing through the stone halls. These executioners didn’t fall like fodder—this time they blocked, countered, and swung with ruthless precision, their weapons glowing faintly with Leben. Even so, Iryoku’s blistering speed and Mr. K’s lethal calm carved through them one after another, until only a single survivor remained—cornered and trembling.
Iryoku seized him by the collar and slammed him against the wall. Blood streaked down the man’s mangled face.
“Where’s the exit, fucker?”
The executioner spat out a tooth, lips curling in a bloody grin.
“Just kill me, prisoner. When Lord Alexander arrives… you and your demi-human friend will be meat on hooks. Heh… heh…”
Iryoku’s glare hardened. His blade flashed. The man gurgled, went limp, and crumpled to the floor.
Scowling, Iryoku stripped a jagged dagger from one of the corpses, sliding his small throwing knife back into his belt and gripping the new weapon in his free hand. Beside him, Mr. K hefted a machete-like blade, testing its weight with a grim expression.
Then something caught their attention.
Off to the side, an iron door hung ajar. A faint rattle of chains drifted from within.
They approached.
Inside, a demi-human woman dangled from hooks bolted to the stone, arms and legs wrenched apart. Her naked body was a map of torment—fresh cuts bleeding alongside old, infected wounds. Strips of flesh had been carved from her thighs. Bruises blackened her ribs. Her head sagged forward, hair matted with blood.
Iryoku’s jaw clenched. Mr. K stepped in, ears twitching, his body trembling for a moment before he pressed two fingers to her throat. His voice was flat, but cracked at the edges.
“She’s dead.”
Silence. Heavy. Suffocating.
Then Mr. K’s ears flicked again. His head snapped toward the tunnel, eyes narrowing.
“…But I hear something. Close.”
Iryoku cursed under his breath. Still chained together, he had no choice but to work with the catman for the time being.
They hurried deeper into the shadows. Soon, cages appeared—rows upon rows cut into the rock.
Dozens of eyes stared out from the dark. Demi-humans, and a few humans. Men, women, children. All scarred by torment—whip marks, missing fingers, burns seared into skin. Some shivered in silence. Others rocked back and forth, muttering broken apologies to no one.
Mr. K strode forward, his machete glowing faintly with Leben. With a sharp swing, he split the first lock.
Clank. Clang.
The gate swung open.
“You’re free,” he muttered, voice steady but heavy. “Let’s get out of here.”
No one moved. The captives shrank back, trembling, eyes glued to the floor.
Mr. K’s jaw tightened. He crouched in front of a child with furry ears, one arm ending in a raw stump. The boy wouldn’t look up.
“Come,” Mr. K said softly, hand outstretched. “I’ll get you out.”
The boy shook his head violently, tears dripping onto the stone.
“Please… don’t. They’ll punish me if I leave. They’ll cut off my other hand. I only… I only wanted food for my sister… I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”
Mr. K trembled, his hand hovering uselessly in the air.
Behind him, Iryoku stood stiff, jaw locked. He tried not to look, tried to bury the stench of suffering pressing in from all sides. I should’ve just escaped alone, he thought bitterly. But even he couldn’t smother the weight digging into his chest.
His eyes drifted to the flesh chain linking him to Mr. K. A darker thought slid in. If I cut him down—slice off his hand—I could move freely again. His grip tightened around the dagger. The image flared in his mind: blood, freedom. I could sneak out easily by myself.
But the moment he lingered on it, a chill slithered over his skin. Cold. Warning. If he struck now… he wouldn’t win.
A hoarse voice cracked the silence.
“It’s no use… there’s no way to escape…”
Both Iryoku and Mr. K turned.
A man slumped against the bars, his body mangled by years of torment. His legs were gone below the knee. His torso was a lattice of scars. His face had been broken and healed wrong, twisted into something barely human. Where animal ears once marked his heritage, only bloody stumps remained, hacked away like trophies.
Iryoku stepped closer. “Old man… do you know where the exit is? Or at least… what the hell those monsters are? Where they came from?”
The prisoner slowly lifted his ruined face. His eyes were hollow, but his voice carried the weight of despair.
“Monsters? Those are Master Sigil’s experiments. We all are.”
Iryoku stiffened, unease prickling down his spine.
The man trembled as he went on.
“When Lord Alexander and Sigil returned from the war with the demons… they brought something back. Something vile. The remains of a demon…”
Iryoku and Mr. K both flinched.
“They’ve been carving pieces out of it,” the old man rasped. “Experimenting. They inject something into us. Most die screaming, like rats in a pit. But some… some survive. And those that do… become the horrors you’ve seen.”
Iryoku stepped closer, eyes narrowing.
“Wait—what kind of demon? Was it just some minion, like the minotaurs? Or… a godlike one? The one that looks almost humanoid?” His voice shook.
Images clawed at his mind—Joka’latrex’s monstrous grin, looming like a god. He remembered what had happened after they defeated Lunara, the crazy elven mage: her mangled body had been forced back to life, infused with the demon’s demonic energy. But the true horror came from her own aberration beast—fused with her—to form that demonic centaur monstrosity. All the while, Joka’latrex had simply watched from the sidelines, letting Iryoku and his group face her newly revived terror. His stomach churned.
If it was something like that… if it came from that level… then the nightmares in this prison were only the beginning. Shit—I’m even weaker than back then. No Wolf Fang. No White Rope. No daggers with frozen damage.
The old man stirred faintly, voice rasping just above a whisper.
“I don’t know… but when they dragged me into Master Sigil’s laboratory, I overheard something. They said the creature fell from the sky… wrapped in a pillar of white-blue light. A light that poured down from an impossibly vast, floating being…”
“What—?” Iryoku’s breath caught. His body trembled. His teeth clenched until his jaw ached.
Could it be her…? His chest tightened, a sharp ache burning deep inside.
The old man gave a broken laugh—wet, bitter, and short-lived.
“Heh… such a cursed world. I thought the demons would be our end. But no… we’ll destroy ourselves first. Greed, hunger for power, hurting each other—that’s what will finish us. This world has no time left...”
His coughing fit ended in silence. His chest stilled.
The other prisoners didn’t weep, didn’t cry out. They only glanced at his corpse for a heartbeat, then lowered their eyes again, chained back into despair.
Iryoku stood in silence, face grim.