Chapter 111: Torturing Mind
"Stop all this bullshit!"
Andrew was the first to snap. His palms slammed against the table with a sharp clatter that echoed through the room. Roanna only rolled her eyes, as if he were a petulant child throwing a tantrum.
He didn’t know if what he was seeing was real or some twisted illusion, but even for a man who’d witnessed the worst of humanity, this was far beyond what he could stomach.
"Stop playing with us! This isn’t how you welcome your guests!" he shouted again, his voice cracking with fury.
Roanna propped her chin on her hand, lazily twirling a strand of her ink-black hair. "Hmm..." she hummed, utterly unbothered.
The circus continued its nightmare performance in the background. A boy with a torch staggered onto the stage, cheeks bulging with oil.
He tried to blow out flames like a fire-breather only for the fire to surge backward. In an instant, his mouth ignited, and the flames raced across his body like a hungry beast.
He didn’t even scream. He simply stood there, silently burning alive, his hollow eyes staring straight ahead as his skin cracked and blistered.
David squeezed his eyes shut, unable to watch any longer, while Lulu doubled over and vomited on the floor. The stench of blood and scorched flesh mingled sickeningly with the once-delicious aroma of the feast.
"So," Roanna drawled, her voice slicing through the chaos, "what else can I entertain you with? Perhaps a little play about our beloved Elle? Her story has become quite... moving."
David’s eyes widened in horror. He knew if she showed him the experiments done to Elle—his daughter—he wouldn’t survive it.
The image of those blackened, swamp-dwelling children he’d seen before flashed in his mind, and the thought of Elle in their place made his heart twist violently.
Andrew saw his friend’s face pale and knew Roanna’s words would break him. He cut her off sharply, his voice firm.
"No... enough of this madness. Stop all this bullshit and let me see my son!"
At the mention of Seamus, Roanna’s left eye twitched, an involuntary flicker of irritation crossing her face.
But then her expression shifted. Her shoulders tensed, and slowly, a cruel grin spread across her lips, a grin that promised nothing good.
"Sure," she purred. "Then I’ll show you what Seamus is doing right now."
The big screen flickered to life on the small circular stage of the circus freak show they were watching.
At first, it showed nothing but blackness. Then the darkness began to move, forming the image of a man standing with his back turned.
Even from that single glimpse, Andrew knew who it was.
The way the man stood, the line of his shoulders, and the faint glint of green in his reflection on the screen could only belong to one person.
It was Seamus.
He was holding a woman with long red hair. Andrew’s stomach dropped as he recognized her face.
It was Viviane, the woman everyone knew had died. His eyes widened, disbelief tightening his voice.
"What is this? That girl is supposed to be dead."
The scene changed before he could make sense of it. Seamus’s arm shifted, and a faint gleam appeared in his hand.
The knife plunged into Viviane’s chest, staining her white dress a deep black as she gasped for air.
Her expression froze in shock, her eyes trembling with pain and confusion as she looked up at him.
.
.
.
"Seamus, please, I’m your girlfriend," Viviane whispered weakly, her voice trembling with agony and desperation.
She looked into his tear-filled eyes, trying to reach him. Her bloodied hand lifted and brushed against his cheek, the touch gentle despite the pain shaking her body.
"No, you’re not real," Seamus replied in a low voice. His throat tightened as he forced the words out.
"You’re just an illusion, a cruel one. I’m sorry, Viviane, but I have to do this."
A soft voice echoed in his mind, belonging to Madeline, who seemed to enjoy watching his suffering.
’It’s inside her heart, Seamus.’
"I know. Shut up. Just shut up," he muttered through clenched teeth, trying to silence her voice.
Viviane’s body trembled as her strength began to fade. Before she could fall, Seamus caught her and gently lowered her to the ground.
Her breath came in short, uneven gasps, and blood stained her lips as her crimson eyes met his. They were full of pain and disbelief, silently begging him to stop.
But he couldn’t.
Seamus lifted the knife once more, his hands shaking violently, and drove it back into her chest. Blood splashed across his face, warm and sticky, as Viviane screamed.
"Seamus, stop! Please, it hurts so much! Why are you doing this to me?"
Madeline’s voice cut through her cries.
’That thing isn’t alive. It’s just a doll.’
The words made him tremble even harder. His mind wanted to believe her, but his heart refused. Viviane’s voice came again, softer this time, full of sorrow.
"You cried for me not to leave you at that time... But why, why now you’re the one killing me."
Her words tore through him like a blade. He remembered every detail of the day she died, every tear, every desperate prayer he made to bring her back.
The memory burned in his chest as his sagacitas and the system confirmed what he already knew.
This was not real. It was an illusion meant to crush him.
Yet even knowing that, the pain refused to fade.
Tears ran down his face, mixing with the blood that clung to his skin. "I’m sorry, Viviane," he whispered. "I will find a way to bring you back. I promise I will."
He drew the knife again and made a deeper cut across her chest. Her body convulsed, her eyes wide with betrayal and disbelief as he reached into the wound.
His trembling hands grasped her heart, and he pulled it free. The last breath escaped her lips, and her body fell still.
The heart in his hand stopped beating, its color fading until it turned pale and lifeless.
Seamus pressed his fist against his chest, suffocating under the weight of guilt and grief. He wanted to scream, to let the pain out, but no sound came.
His trembling fingers tightened around the heart as it began to change, hardening and twisting until it became a large golden key.
Before him, the window shimmered and shifted. It dissolved into a massive door made of bronze and gold, covered in moving gears that turned and clicked with the sound of steam hissing from their sides.
He could smell the faint scent of oil and smoke as the gears came to a stop.
Exhausted and trembling, Seamus rose to his feet. His eyes stayed fixed on the door as he stepped forward and inserted the key into the lock.
The mechanism turned by itself, and the door opened slowly, revealing only darkness beyond.
Without hesitation, he took one last breath and stepped through. The shadows closed in around him, swallowing him whole as the door sealed shut behind him.
***
Bork was in the middle of cleaning up the scavengers’ corpses. Their blood would rust anything it lingered on, and their bodies were far more toxic to humans than the vampire hunters.
Officers who helped with the cleanup worked behind gas masks and full protective gear.
Most of the university grounds had been cleared, but the eastern section still held a handful of scavengers holed up in the campus buildings, and they had human hostages.
A grey, wrinkled monster clutched one of the captives, a knife pressed to the poor girl’s throat as she wept.
"Let go of me and I will free this woman," the scavenger shouted, trying to keep distance to avoid another needless death.
"Oh? You are smarter than the rest of that mindless weak creature, huh?"
A voice came from behind the hunters; they parted like a sea. The click of heels sounded on broken concrete as a woman approached.
She wore a white shirt and high black pants, a black jacket draped over one shoulder. The wind lifted the jacket and the hem of her shirt.
Her hair was cropped in a sharp wolf cut with white and streaks of black color that caught the moonlight. Her red eyes were tired and empty when she stopped in front of them.
"Huh? Shut up, bitch. Do what I said," the scavenger snarled and swung the knife as if the motion could change anything.
The woman only turned her head as if bored. Veins rose along the palm of her hand until they stood out like cords. Something thin and alive like a worm slid from her sleeve.
It moved fast coiled around the scavenger head, and his scream ripped the night apart. He dropped the girl and staggered back as his eyes began to melt. Black blood ran from every orifice, and he collapsed and stopped moving.
"Useless information," the vampire said, shaking her head.
"Lady Fleur, the patriarch is calling for you," Matheo reported from behind her.
Fleur glanced over her shoulder. "Is it time to head to Corvane?"
"It appears so. It is already time."
She let a thin smile curve her lips. "Finally. Let us kill that harlot and end this war."