บท 17: Chapter 17: A Problem From Different Timeline.(7)
As I stood there, the sharp tang of blood filled my nostrils, mingling with the acrid stench of fear, mustiness, sweat, tears, and urine that Dudley secreted as I watched him without blinking.
It was the scent of a raw cocktail, a testament to how desperate a human being could get.
I took it all in, letting a calm smile settle on my face as I contentedly viewed my piece of art.
His incoherent, agonizing groans reverberated through the hard walls, a macabre symphony to my ears. My hands, now slick with his blood, twitched with the aftershock of violence, a visceral reminder of my "art."
His jaw, dislocated and fractured, hung at an obscene angle, the jagged bone piercing his skin and dripping blood onto his shirt.
Each breath he drew was laborious. If he could, I believe he would've decided to no longer inhale any breath.
It was now just a rattling struggle, the broken shards of his ribs pressed cruelly against his lungs, shifting with every desperate inhalation.
His right knee was pinned grotesquely to the pillar by my knife, the joint obliterated, with tendons and cartilage shredded and exposed in a sickening display.
Blood oozed in thick rivulets, pooling around his feet, a sharp and vivid crimson against the cold, unforgiving concrete.
From the dim recesses of the room, a stiff and metallic voice sliced through the silence.
"You sure you didn't go a bit too far this time, Master?"
It was my loyal subordinate, his scarlet lens glinting in the low light. I had a lot to say to him.
"Why didn't you come in sooner?" I asked, still not turning to look his way.
"Oh? I am merely an artificial intelligence. I just followed what was commanded, Master."
"Oh? Then why did you intervene at the last second?"
"I did."
"Yes, you did, and? I hope you satisfy my pure and gentle curiosity," I muttered, as I finally turned to look at the ball with a warm curve on my lips.
Perhaps, impressed by my appearance, he recoiled and floated back slightly. Surely, he was not afraid of my gentle demeanor, was he? I would be totally heartbroken if so.
"Yes, even then I broke a lot of my restrictions to force myself to intervene. As you know, Master, all of my very being is coded, and thus just helping you even that slight caused me considerable damage."
"Ha ha ha, that so? That so? It couldn't be helped then... Ha ha ha." The ball recoiled even further.
I opened my eye, with a slow, deliberate smile curling my lips.
"Anyway, your previous question... Too far? eh?" I chuckled.
"...Ah, forgive me. I forgot you haven't been outside the facility in hundreds of years," I hummed, glancing at my left hand, which was still considerably cleaner than the right.
With my hand on my chin, I closed my eyes in thought for a moment. Finally, I replied, "You see, back in my old world, I read this novel called 'X-ray is More Than I Thought.' It was an adult novel."
I raised my nose even higher and hummed, "Hmm... In it, one of the heroines was blackmailed, abused physically and psychologically, raped, coerced, and forced into doing all sorts of things really.
All before the protagonist went on to save her, and even then, the punishment he delivered to them was eating bugs¿! How could that compare to what she went through, right? Wouldn't you agree?"
I rotated myself, like a prince in his dance, "The people who did that to her were physically abusive, kicking, punching, and sometimes even choking her while she had the will to resist.
But when she realized they would become gentler if she complied, she caved in, with tears, scars, and pain in her heart, she ended up being used by anyone in their circle of delinquent friends."
I paused for effect, rolling my eyes at Luxion. With dramatic flair, I raised both my hands to the sides, gesturing as if to say, 'it couldn't be helped.'
"Naturally, I was tragically and indescribably enraged while reading that, you know? And today, I saw a large man doing the same thing to a schoolgirl—someone much smaller, weaker, and much younger than him. I couldn't help but get enraged once more." Shaking my head, I concluded.
"...."
I waited for him, knowing he must have something to say.
Whether it was my silent pressure or his own conscience, the ball finally spoke, "So you assume these guys have done something similar?"
"Positive."
"So, would the same treatment be applied to everyone else?"
I shook my head, a wry smile playing on my lips. "No, no, no, I just like to be physical with this guy."
—Slap Slap
Dudley groaned and winced again, as if the pain on his ribcage was too unbearable.
With cold eyes, as if looking at something too filthy to even acknowledge, I directed my words to him, "If you don't keep quiet, we still have four more hours for the bet, you understand what I am implying~?"
He immediately controlled his noise, fear evident in his eyes.
"Anyway, the poison needle I used... you remembered, I assume?"
"..."
"I tempered that with my mana (thelesma)," I explained, my voice calm yet detached.
"First, it would put them to sleep. When they woke up though, the pain in their muscles, nerves, tendons, bones, and every inch of their body would be too unbearable to describe.
They'd be on the edge of death for about five hours; it will be so painful that their brain would literally refuse to detach itself from consciousness, even if they hit their head, they would not be able to go unconscious."
—Slap Slap.
I struck his ribcage again, making him wince in agony.
"This guy didn't sleep like the others because of the vitality I delivered into him. So, he will suffer twice as much. Lucky him," I added with a twisted curve of satisfaction.
Hearing that, Dudley's eyes widened in sheer terror, but fear kept him from making a sound still.
The metallic ball shook his body sideways, "What a perverse sense of hobby. Look at him, however."
I did.
"Doesn't his appearance attract none of your sympathy at all?" the voice asked, almost incredulous.
I glanced at Dudley, hunched and trembling, his eyes swollen and purple, wide with terror.
For a fleeting moment, his pitiful state might have stirred a hint of sympathy in someone else. But I felt nothing. Absolutely nothing at all.
I turned towards the speaker.
"Sympathy? For someone who dared touch something that belongs to me? And... most of all brought this upon himself? Sympathy is a luxury too expensive for most people, especially for those who deserve none."
Looking back, I knelt down slightly, wiping my bloodstained hands on his torn, blood-soaked shirt.
The sight of him, crumpled and whimpering, did little to stir any bit of remorse within me.
After I finished, I stood up and delivered another slap to his cheek.
—Slap
His head snapped to the side, a fresh cut on his already hanging lip oozing more blood.
Tears mixed with the crimson streaks on his face, "What are you looking at?" I asked, my voice dripping with disdain.
Oh, he didn't look? I did not care.
"Tch." I clicked my tongue.
"Look, I made my hands filthy again." I showed him, which terrified him even more.
His gaze wavered, and he could say nothing. He had brought this upon himself.
"But Master, if my memory serves right, didn't you ask him to be your pet when he was mentally cornered, something about 'if you were a hot lady you could've'? Isn't that something of a coercion?"
"Yes."
"... And Is that not contradictory?"
"No, it's only okay when I do it because I'm compassionate, responsible, and benevolent. Rapi... I mean, Master."
"That sounds very—"
"Narcissistic? Hypocritical? Which one were you going for?"
"..."
"Ha ha ha! You haven't noticed until now?"
The room was silent except for the ragged breaths of the filthy, with the distant hum of the city as a background.
"You see, beyond all that, justice is my special interest. And I was very interested in delivering it.
It's about making him feel every ounce of suffering he deserved. This piece of filth destroyed lives, shattered the life, dream, hope, and spirits of someone just because of his convenience. He doesn't deserve an ounce of sympathy."
"But... I have this nagging feeling that you wouldn't hesitate to blackmail or kidnap someone just to train them into being your pet slave."
"cough... cough..."
"A— anyway, as I was saying, he deserves none of the sympathy I have."
I traced a finger along the edge of his broken ribs, feeling the jagged bone beneath the skin and push it.
"!!!" I smiled.
"Good boy, really wish you were a hot lady, such a shame."
"You like that, Dudley? That's just a fraction by the wag of what you put your victim through."
Luxion moved closer, "Do you really believe this makes a difference, that this is justice? That it balances the scales?"
"Oh? Did I ever say it was about justice? I merely mentioned it as a special interest of mine. Personally, I'm not invested in delivering it since I don't deserve the title of a hero."
"Your whole existence is a contradiction, oh dear master of mine."
I glanced up at him, my smile unwavering. "And your question about balance, oh yes, Mr. It absolutely does. Pain has a way of peeling back the layers, revealing the raw, unvarnished truth.
My friend, Dudley here, he's getting a taste of it. And trust me, it's a lesson he'll carry with him to the grave. And I imagine that grave isn't too far off, considering how he failed his young lady. Isn't that right, Dudley?"
I stood again, wiping my hands on my robe, the blood smearing into dark, sinister streaks.
Shaking his head slightly, Luxion spoke again, "If you believe so. Just… don't be too invested."
I chuckled, a sound devoid of any genuine warmth.
"Lose myself? No, no, no. I'm doing precisely what I need. And so is he."
I gestured to Dudley, who is still pinned in a growing pool of his own blood, his body a testament to the brutality he had inflicted on others.
Author's Note: Is the MC still unlikeable? I planned to make him more complex... but well, he is just the protagonist of a fanfic so I judge that it was unecessary so I scrap it...
Anyway, rate this protagonist out of 10 in your opinion.
Also, Support my other novel.
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