Path To Godhood Begins With Marrying Wife And Gaining SSS Rank Skill Chapter 363: Beneath Blanks

Beneath the lands of the Blanks, far below stone streets and quiet hos, there was a place that never slept.

The secret basent stretched deep underground, carved layer by layer with brutal precision. Thick stone walls were reinforced with runes and tal cribs. Torches burned with a dull blue fla, casting long, twisted shadows that crawled along the floor like living things.

This was not a dungeon ant for simple prisoners.

This was a prison for monsters.

Rows upon rows of iron cells lined the vast underground hall. Chains hung from the ceiling, thick as a man's arm. The air slled of blood, sweat, rust, and sothing darker that clung to the lungs. Faint screams echoed constantly, never fully stopping, never fully beginning. They blended into a low, maddening hum.

Inside the cells were the worst of the worst.

Crazed maniacs who laughed while killing. Dark wizards who had stitched people together while they were still alive. Wanted criminals whose nas alone could freeze towns into silence.

So were tied to walls. So were nailed into place. So were locked inside cages filled with suppressing runes that crushed mana and will alike.

And all of them were breaking.

A man scread as hooks dug into his shoulders, slowly lifting him off the ground.

"Please! Please stop! I'll talk! I'll tell you everything!"

A hooded interrogator tilted his head slightly.

"You already told us everything," he said calmly. "Now we're just making sure you rember it."

The hooks turned.

The scream turned into a hoarse croak.

In another corner, a woman with burned hands laughed hysterically while strapped to a tal chair. Sparks danced over her skin as a device pulsed against her spine.

"This hurts," she giggled. "But it's not enough."

The interrogator paused and stared at her.

"…What?"

She licked her cracked lips and grinned, eyes wide and unhinged.

"More. More. Pleasure more."

The interrogator slowly turned his head.

"What the fuck do you an by pleasure more?"

Another guard snorted from behind.

"We're torturing you, not fucking you, asshole."

He swung his whip.

The whip was lined with sharpened bone fragnts. It cracked through the air and tore into her flesh, peeling skin away in long, wet strips.

She scread this ti but what followed was another crazed laughter.

"Ahhh!The pleasure of pain,I love it."

All across the prison, similar scenes played out.

So begged. So cursed. So laughed until they choked on their own blood. A few tried to sing. Others muttered prayers to gods that were no longer listening.

At the center of it all stood a raised platform of black stone.

There, surrounded by runes and silent guards, stood Hall.

The Leader of Black Thorns.

He wore simple dark clothes, clean and neat, as if he were attending a eting instead of overseeing hell. His hands rested behind his back. His eyes were closed.

He listened to the screams. The sobs. The rage. The despair.

He breathed it in slowly, like a man enjoying a strong drink.

This place was not for the weak-willed.

Even trained operatives sotis broke just by standing here too long. So fainted and so vomited. A few suffered heart attacks before they even began their work.

Recently, a new recruit had collapsed the mont he stepped inside.

"I warned them," Hall muttered quietly. "Don't co here if you can't handle it."

He opened his eyes and looked around calmly.

"Everyone wants to be a man in the shadows," he said. "But no one wants to carry the weight."

As he spoke, a crystal ball on the table beside him began to glow.

Hall turned slightly.

"Yes," he said.

A voice echoed from the crystal.

[Sir Hall. There is a troubleso matter.]

"What happened?" Hall asked, his tone steady.

[Frontier is under demon attack.]

Hall's brows creased slightly.

"Demons? All of a sudden?"

He turned his head toward the map carved into the stone floor.

"What happened? Any clear intel?"

[Not yet. Our forces haven't infiltrated deep enough.]

[The King has issued multiple orders, but the situation is still unclear.]

"How bad is it?" Hall asked.

A pause.

[One fifth of the kingdom's border land has fallen.]

[The King has ford a defensive line and is concentrating all power there.]

Hall exhaled slowly.

"I see."

The light faded as the channel closed.

Hall stood still for a mont, then shook his head faintly.

"I wonder how the empires will respond," he said quietly. "Though I doubt we'll learn much."

Their foundation was still shallow. That was the truth.

They simply did not have enough people embedded deep inside imperial cores. Most of their operatives were strong enough for guards, scouts, and minor officials. Nothing more.

He had often wondered why empires produced so many strong seedlings while smaller lands struggled.

Until his Lord explained it clearly.

Talent was inherited.

Anyone with real potential eventually left for the empire. Centuries of migration had drained smaller lands dry, leaving behind only scraps and nobles clinging to bloodlines.

To change that required insane amounts of money, resources, and patience.

Like Ethan had done.

Hall glanced at his own hands.

He was never ant to reach Master Realm.

Not in this lifeti.

Yet here he stood.

That alone was enough to bind his loyalty forever.

A sudden shout pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Sir!"

A man rushed up the steps, kneeling quickly.

"We have intel. A cavalry unit is approaching our territory. They bear the flag of the Empire."

Hall's eyes sharpened instantly.

"Cavalry?" he repeated.

"Yes, sir. Should we deploy counterasures?"

Hall straightened fully.

"No," he said firmly. "Not yet."

He turned sharply.

"Inform Sir Rathlos imdiately and ask for his judgnt."

The ssenger nodded and ran.

Hall clenched his fist once, then relaxed it.

"Cavarly out of nowhere.This shouldn't be an attack," he said quietly. "Not yet."

He looked back toward the prison, where screams still echoed endlessly.

"Stay on standby," he ordered. "And keep your eyes open."

....

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