Chapter 13: Power and Conspiracies

Adam lay slumped on the chair, completely exhausted, his breathing low and strained, with blood and something thicker gathering at the back of his throat. He spat it out instinctively, but it only smeared down his chin and dropped onto his chest in a thin, red line. He’d been stripped of his shirt, his body battered and covered in small cuts and dark bruises. All ten of his fingers had been broken, one kneecap busted, and one of his eyes was swollen shut from the heavy blow he’d received, but he was still conscious ... just barely.

The Bronze-Ranks had obeyed Julius’s last order to the letter. They showed him no mercy as they continued the torture, slowly working their way to the rest of his body after breaking his fingers repeatedly, and then crushed one of his kneecaps, never once allowing him to lose consciousness no matter the pain they inflicted. Adam wasn’t sure if minutes or hours had passed since Julius left. Everything had slipped into a blur and his vision swam in red. The agony in his shattered knee consumed him, drowning all other pain, even the intense throbbing of his broken thumbs and the eight fingers twisted at grotesque angles. The blood had stopped flowing long ago, drying on his hands like flaking paint.

The knights hadn’t asked questions, they just wanted to break him, and Adam knew that there was nothing he could say that would save him, they would just cut out his tongue as Julius had ordered. The pain was the worst thing he had ever known, an overwhelming agony that threatened to break his sanity. But even through the torment, he didn’t beg. He screamed, he cursed, he thrashed against his tormentors, but he didn’t beg for mercy. That would have done nothing to ease his suffering, and he refused to give them the satisfaction.

He would rather die...

With effort, Adam lifted his head to look at the Bronze-Ranks surrounding him. One of them stood directly in front of him, and the other two were positioned by his sides. The Silver-Ranks had left with Julius, leaving only the four of them in the room.

Adam fixed his stare on the Bronze-Rank in front of him, the man still holding the bloody hammer he’d used to shatter one of his kneecaps. He appeared to be in charge now that Julius and the Silver-Ranks were gone. He was a middle-aged man with an overgrown mustache prominent on his face. Adam deeply loathed him. He was the one who’d handled most of the torture, and even now he was looking at him like a slab of meat, wondering what part to carve next. The other two were just as guilty, of course, with one healing him whenever he was close to mercifully slipping into unconsciousness, the other one striking him whenever he thrashed too hard. He despised them all, but the mustache knight most of all. He’d memorized their faces. Somehow, he would make them all pay dearly.

“He’s a tough one,” the mustache knight said evenly.

The second Bronze-Rank knight, a younger man with shaved head—the one who’d been striking him over and over—let out a snort. “Think he beats the record?”

“You mean that demi-human? He lasted two whole days before he started squealing like a pig, begging us to stop,” the mustache knight responded and nudged Adam’s broken knee with his boot. “This one is stubborn, I’ll give him that. But I don’t think he lasts that long. We haven’t started pulling out his teeth, that usually gets them begging.”

“I agree,” the shaved head knight said. “He doesn’t last the night.”

“I think he does last,” the healer chirped in, standing at Adam’s right shoulder. He was another young man. “Look at him, he’s glaring at us. There’s still fire in his eyes.”

The shaved head knight chuckled softly under his breath. “A bet then?” he said in a casual tone. “One gold says he doesn’t make it past tonight before he starts begging.”

“I’ll take that. I’m telling you, this one is going to last,” the healer said.

Adam listened to the knights exchange, and every word stoked the hatred and rage simmering underneath his pain. The way they talked about him, their laughter, their wagers, their cruelty, it was like they didn’t even see him as a person, just something insignificant, like a toy they could use, break and discard at will. His muscles trembled with the force of his fury, his jaw clenched until his teeth ached, and that darkness he carried swelled inside his chest. They were wrong. He would correct them. They were the ones who were worth nothing, not even dirt to be walked on. They didn’t deserve to exist in this world.

The hunger to kill them, to make them feel even a fraction of what they had done to him, swept through Adam’s mind like a sudden flood. He wanted to see their smiling faces deformed into masks of horror and despair, and their laughter twisted into cries of pain. He wanted to hurt them badly. He’d never wanted anything more in all his life.

The desire rooted itself deep inside Adam’s mind, feeding on his pain, his anger, his burning hatred. The darkness inside him rose higher, heavier, surging from his chest to his throat. It was like a hand closing tight around his throat, he couldn’t breathe. The darkness swallowed him whole, and his mind echoed with only one thought, one desire.

The mustache knight glanced at him and nudged his broken knee once more. “Still glaring. Maybe I should start pulling those eyes out since—”

Adam barely heard the rest, he didn’t even acknowledge the knight. A sudden chill crept over him, tightening around his chest and prickling his skin, as if his own blood had turned into ice. The air also grew heavier, vibrating faintly around him.

“Do you feel that?” The healer asked with a frown.

The temperature in the room dropped lower and Adam felt it first, a strange energy bubbling inside him, sliding through his veins like icy water searching for a way out. Then he saw the thin, black mist leaking out from his skin, first from his fingertips, then curling up to his arms and swirling around his shoulders. The air hummed, and the room grew cold enough that he could see his breath. The knights stood frozen, looking at him in confusion.

Then Adam exhaled a quiet breath...

In an instant, a sudden burst of dark energy exploded outward like shockwaves from a massive bomb, completely shattering the chair he sat on and hurling the three Bronze-Rank knights across the room, slamming them into the far wall with enough force to crack the plaster. Even he hit the floor after the chair’s destruction, momentarily disoriented. But slowly, he rose back to his feet. The agony in his body had dulled, not gone, just muted, drowned beneath something far stronger, something hungry and ancient. His broken fingers moved with soft pops as he clenched his hands into fists, and he stood upright despite his shattered knee. They weren’t healed, but he could move them now.

The air grew heavier as the darkness spread thicker around him, his entire body now leaking black smoke. It was like all the shadows were no longer content to simply cling to the corners of the room, they were reaching for him, recognizing him, pulling themselves toward the one who now resembled their long-lost master.

Adam didn’t know what was happening, but the energy flooding through his entire body felt overwhelming, like a nuclear charge swelling inside his chest, one wrong breath away from detonating and destroying every single thing. His senses muddled, every sound, even his breathing felt so much louder; his sight too, clearer than they’d ever been even in the dim light. His emotions were scattered, and some didn’t feel like his own, like the dread and shock he sensed. The sensations crashed together chaotically, clawing for space in his mind. But despite the turmoil, one thought, one fierce desire, cut through the fog clearly.

The knights ... they had to die.

Adam watched the three Bronze-Ranks stagger to their feet, immense fear and shock drawn clearly on their faces. Quickly, he realized some of the emotions he sensed, the ones that weren’t his own, they were from the men, he could almost smell it on them. But despite the fear that gripped them, they drew their weapons, two swords and one mace.

The mustache knight stared at him in shock. “ ... What are you?”

Adam didn’t answer. He just stared at the men like they were insects, so far beneath him that didn’t deserve his words, or even his attention. But after everything they had done, everything they had said, he would deliver judgement. Adam felt like a god about to punish some ants that had bitten him, the task was beneath him, yet he wanted to see their eyes as the light drained from them, he wanted to hear their screams, he wanted to watch their faces in the moment they finally understood the grave mistake they had committed.

The shaved-head knight recovered from the shock first and charged toward him with a loud shout. Dark energy surged from Adam’s hand, pooling like liquid shadow. He raised his arm instinctively and a jet of black flames shot out from his palm.

It engulfed the knight and he thrashed wildly, slamming head first into a wall before collapsing and rolling across the floor. The black flames consumed his flesh, even after his cries of torment ceased and he stopped flailing, he still continued to burn. When the flames finally vanished, nothing was left of the knight but a charred corpse on the floor.

Panicked, the healer’s face drained of color and he tried to run to the door, but Adam moved, just a step, and he crossed the distance in the blink of an eye. He didn’t know how he moved so fast, but he just wanted to block the escape, and he was there. The healer ran straight into his chest and stumbled back in horror. Adam didn’t give him a chance to react after that as his hand clamped around the man’s throat, lifting him from the ground. Bones cracked under his grip, and the knight kicked and scrambled, but Adam barely felt it. With a single twist, he snapped the man’s neck and let him drop like a discarded doll.

He turned to the mustache knight and the man stumbled backwards, horror widening his eyes as he waved his mace. “Stay back! Stay back! Sir Julius—”

Adam stepped forward and the Bronze-Rank swung wildly at his head, but he caught his arm mid-strike. He squeezed hard and bones cracked beneath his grip, the arm bending at an unnatural angle and bones jutting out. The man shrieked and Adam extended his other hand to clench his throat, cutting off his screams. Not now ... they would come later.

“How long will you last, I wonder,” he whispered in a low voice that didn’t sound like his own. It was stronger, forceful, even the air shook under its intensity.

The mustache knight shook his head violently and his lips trembled as tears streaked down his ugly face. He stared at Adam like something he’d never seen before, like he was death itself. His face had gone ghastly pale, and his eyes seemed ready to burst out of their sockets. That was exactly what Adam wanted to see, the raw despair of a man recognizing his own powerlessness, the complete surrender to whatever fate Adam chose for him.

“Please ... I beg you. I—”

Adam didn’t wait to hear the rest of his words. He flung him across the room and he slammed him into the wall with a force that shattered at least a couple of ribs. Before he could begin to pick himself up, Adam was there, standing over him. He stomped on the knight’s leg, crushing bone, and the man’s screams tore through the room as he begged for mercy. Adam seized him by the head and drove it into the wall once, decisively. The scream cut off, the skull caving in with a sickening pop as blood sprayed across the stone.

Adam took a slow step back, standing alone in the room, breathing quietly, his entire body shaking, not from exertion, but something else. The black smoke that surrounded him had thickened even more, spilling into every corner of the room, and energy surged through him, buzzing under his skin like trapped insects searching for a way out, it was as if nothing he’d done had diminished it. The energy felt bottomless, endless, impossible to contain. It wanted to break free. It wanted more. Adam gritted his teeth, trying to hold it down, trying to force it to settle, but it was like trying to stop a sneeze with his bare hands.

The pressure inside him built, stronger, and stronger. It felt like his body was tearing apart as the power threatened to erupt. “Stop!” he gasped to himself, to the darkness.

Suddenly, the entire world went dark. A massive explosion of shadow erupted from his body, shattering the stone walls like glass and splitting the floor open. A wave of pure black energy tore through the room, swallowing sight and sound, swallowing the building, swallowing everything in a single, violent release. Then the distant sound of explosion.

A deafening silence fell afterward.

Adam lay in the rubble, the room—the entire building—everything was completely destroyed, reduced to shattered stone, splintered wood, and dust. Above him, the night sky stretched wide, and the moon hung low and bright. Adam stared at it, barely breathing, his body trembling as the last traces of energy hummed weakly through him. Slowly, the world began to blur, his eyelids growing heavy, then finally, he slipped into unconsciousness.

For the first time...

Elsa had just met with another one of Elliot’s contacts, a baker from the lower district. He was a short, pudgy man with a mean face and shifty eyes, like an old fox. Elsa didn’t trust him, but he was completely docile to Elliot. According to her second-in-command, the man was a law-abiding citizen, but in the past he had worked with the wrong sort of people, and now those same people were after him for reasons Elliot didn’t share. Elliot protected him and his family from them, and in return the man provided information. He had a wife and children, so it was dangerous to lie and risk Elliot withdrawing his protection. That was the reason Elsa believed him—despite his untrustworthy appearance—when he told them that he hadn’t seen or heard anything about someone matching Adam’s description.

He was the third of Elliot’s contacts that they’d met. The other two, a brothel owner and a street urchin, hadn’t seen or heard anything either. Night had fallen and they’d gotten no closer to finding where Adam had been taken. Elsa was panicked out of her mind, her emotions frayed. Her jaw hadn’t relaxed once since afternoon, and she couldn’t take a step without turning her head, desperately searching for signs of him in the crowd. Elliot had probably noticed her fear, but he hadn’t said a word, and honestly she wouldn’t have cared if he did. Adam had been missing since the afternoon, probably being tortured. Even if he could somehow hold out, she couldn’t help but worry about the shape he was in.