Arin recognized the cruel smile—it was the smile of a psychopath, drunk on power, who saw everyone around him as mere toys to play with.
The King clapped his hands, and suddenly, a rough, grating sound echoed from outside.
It was as if a heavy stone wheel was rolling over the polished marble floor.
Just as Arin had suspected, Count Velvetius appeared, strapped to a plank mounted on wheels.
Four Luminary Guards were pulling the plank, dragging the Count toward the court. Beside them walked a grim-looking man, his face hidden beneath a hood.
Ragna shrieked at the sight of the Count.
Arin, though he did not react as dramatically as Ragna, felt a deep chill in his core.
This was no longer the Count Velvetius they had fought before.
He was a mere shadow of the man he had been.
His condition made it painfully clear—he had endured the most grotesque torture a deranged, sadistic mind could devise.
And it had lasted an entire day—perhaps even into this morning.
