If it was soone weak, he might get a chance in the future.
"And who’s the other?" He looked at Amon with cold fury, asking for the other person’s identity.
Amon knew he should have just pushed everything onto Galahad. But damn it, one part of him was telling him to tell the truth.
Amon’s lips curved widely into a creepy smile. His teeth were bloodied. His face was filled with wounds.
And then those dark, delighted eyes. The creepy smile made Zareth uncomfortable for a mont.
"It was ... hehehe~ hahahahaha. That pathetic bastard... his na I don’t know... but he was stronger than ... yet got killed by ... by a weakling. He had amber-colored eyes. He truly deserved death... such a loser. Hehehe~. You can’t believe how he was looking at in his last mont. He was one hell of a loser bastard–"
Amon kept talking while laughing crazily, but his words didn’t get completed as a punch collided against Amon’s swollen cheek.
Blood splattered.
"You fucker! So it was you who killed him... you killed Aziz. You really have the nerve to tell the truth."
Zareth felt angry and amused at the sa ti. The young man had taken so much beating from him, yet he still told him the truth.
And even after taking the punch, he was still smiling. Laughing.
As if the fear and pain he had before had disappeared sowhere.
Amon was laughing. "HAHAHAHA!"
He didn’t know why, but he really liked Zareth’s angry and irritated face. He was clearly furious. Knowing Amon was the one who killed his friend made him so furious.
It gave Amon a weird kind of satisfaction.
"You!... you have gone insane!" Zerath started to beat Amon again.
Pain shot through all over Amon’s body. But he couldn’t think straight. He was still laughing.
Zareth continued his cycle. Healing Amon. Then giving pain again.
Amon’s mind began to blur at the edges. Reality felt distant. He could no longer tell where one mont ended and the next began.
"Hehehehe~" yet he continued to giggle.
Zerath finally threw him back into the cage, his breathing heavy with anger. He beat Amon so much, tortured him so much, yet he didn’t feel any satisfaction.
The boy today kept laughing even while getting pain from him.
Amon collapsed onto the cold tal floor, barely conscious, his body shaking violently.
"Hehe~ tired?" Amon’s dazed but delighted eyes gazed at Zareth.
Zerath looked down at him with amusent.
"Just you wait," he said. "Tomorrow this will get worse."
The cage door slamd shut.
The tent flap closed. Silence returned.
Amon lay there, tears slipping from his eyes, but not from pain this ti.
His body hurt. His mind hurt more. But there was still so satisfaction in his mind.
Now, inside him, a stubborn, burning refusal remained.
He stopped laughing. He clenched his teeth weakly.
’I won’t break...’
Even as darkness slowly crept back into his vision once again.
’I will kill him’, he thought before losing consciousness.
---
Amon regained consciousness slowly.
At first, there was only pain.
It ca in waves. Deep, crushing, all-consuming. Every nerve scread the mont his mind surfaced. His chest felt tight, his limbs heavy, his head pounding as if it were about to split apart.
He sucked in a shallow breath.
It hurt.
Another breath.
It hurt more.
His fingers twitched weakly, and a dull clinking sound followed.
Chains.
Cold tal bit into his wrists. He didn’t need to look to know. His hands were cuffed again, bound tightly with suppressive runes. The mana-sealing pressure pressed against his core like a lid screwed shut.
He let out a slow, shaky breath.
So he was still alive.
Barely.
His body felt worse than before. The healing potions had repaired the damage enough to keep him conscious, but they hadn’t erased the pain. His muscles burned, his bones ached, and every movent sent sharp reminders through him.
He opened his eyes. The familiar sight of iron bars greeted him. The cage. The tent. The dim glow of the mana lamp beyond. Nothing had changed.
Except him. He lay still for a long mont, listening.
No footsteps. No voices. Just the faint crackle of the lamp and the distant sounds of the demon camp outside, tal clashing, low voices, movent.
They hadn’t co back yet. Good.
Amon swallowed, his throat dry. His lips were cracked, blood dried at the corners of his mouth. He shifted slightly, testing his body.
Pain flared instantly. He gritted his teeth but didn’t make a sound. Calm down, he told himself.
Panicking wouldn’t help. Screaming wouldn’t help. Fighting blindly wouldn’t help.
He had already learned that.
Zerath was stronger. Far stronger. Physically, ntally, and in authority. As long as Amon acted like a cornered animal, he would only be toyed with.
’No!’
If he wanted to survive. If he wanted to escape. He needed to think.
Amon forced his breathing to slow, even as pain tried to tear that control away. He stared at the bars, not really seeing them, his mind beginning to move again.
First problem were the cuffs.
Mana suppression. Heavy-duty. Probably keyed to demon enchantnts. Breaking them with raw strength was impossible in his current condition.
Even if he sohow regained mana, these wouldn’t co off easily. The realization ca. ’There is a chance...but I need to wait.’
So brute force was out. Second problem, Zerath and commanders of the current demon force.
Zareth was sadist. Calm. Intelligent. Experienced. He enjoyed control more than answers. That ant one thing. Zerath wouldn’t kill him quickly.
He also need to think of a way to avoid Commanders eyes. Others might won’t be big problem.
Also long as Amon was "useful," Zerath would keep him alive. But now Amon also know...he will keep torturing Amon until he won’t satisfy.
’I hope Mira and Harvey are not dead.’
He clenched his jaw. Third problem, the camp.
From what he had glimpsed. This wasn’t a small outpost. It was a powerful camp. Organized. Disciplined. Guards, patrols, commanders.
Running blindly would be suicide. So escape couldn’t be imdiate.
Amon closed his eyes briefly. ’Then what can I do?’ He thought.
The answer ca slowly, painfully clearly. He need to bbserve. He need to Endure. He need to plan. For now, survival ca first.
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