—Trigger Warning: This chapter contains graphic violence and detailed descriptions of gore. Read at your own risk.—
After three months of planning, they finally had everything in place. Every guard rotation, every detail about high-profile visitors, and every weakness in the building's defenses had been mapped out meticulously. Tonight would be the night.
The team assembled in Exeo's room, their expressions cold, each one mentally preparing for the bloody night ahead. Exeo began, "Arthur Louser—the lowlife running the slave market here—is holding a major auction tomorrow night. Here's the plan. Riggs, you'll be one of the guards, Em and Bo as sellers, and Val… you're the slave."
Val's eyes narrowed slightly, unflinching, simply nodding. He didn't question the plan. There was no room for doubt on this mission, only brutal precision.
The auction night finally arrived. Bo and Ember, cloaked in their finest tuxedos, stood just outside the main hall of the auction venue. Behind them, a large, battered metal box was dragged along by one of Louser's men. Inside, Val sat shackled and shirtless, his lean muscles covered in grime and bruises, his eyes burning with a fierce rage beneath a façade of resignation.
As they stepped into the opulent, dimly lit hall, the sound of whispered deals and laughter filled the air.
Arthur Louser approached, flashing a smarmy grin. "Mr. Drith," he greeted Ember, extending a hand. "It's an honor to have someone of your… taste joining us tonight."
Ember's jaw tightened as he looked at Louser's outstretched hand with thinly veiled contempt. He finally clasped it in a crushing grip, his forced smile as icy as his tone. "The pleasure is all mine," he replied, barely concealing his disgust.
Louser's gaze lingered on Bo, who held back a sneer as Louser's eyes traveled up and down his form with a greasy, lascivious interest. Sensing Ember's barely contained anger, Bo gave a subtle shake of his head. They both knew they couldn't break their cover. Yet.
Riggs slipped unnoticed into the guards' quarters with the pretense of illness, clutching his stomach in mock agony. "Ugh, I can't hold it!" he grunted, barely able to keep a straight face as he staggered past the guards, doubling over in a convincing display.
Once alone, he dropped the act, his expression turning steely as he activated his wind ability, zipping through the empty corridors toward the basement. There, hidden in the dark, was the large metal box where Val was held. Riggs knocked three times. From inside, three slow knocks responded. The locks clicked, and the box creaked open. Val stepped out, his face set with a chilling calm.
"Time to tear this place apart," he muttered, flexing his wrists, feeling the weight of his chains.
Together, they moved through the corridors like shadows, silencing any guard unlucky enough to cross their path. Blood splattered against stone walls, and bodies slumped to the ground, limbs twisted in unnatural angles.
Reaching the basement, Val and Riggs were hit by a foul stench—a putrid combination of rot, urine, and stale blood. They stopped at the edge of a cell block, filled with crammed, pitiful figures caged like animals. The desperate, hollow stares of the prisoners followed them, clutching at thin air as if grasping at their last fragments of hope.
Without a word, Val raised his right hand. In the blink of an eye, small black orbs formed in each cell's padlock, dissolving them with a muted hiss. The iron doors swung open.
"Run," Val commanded, his voice cold and detached. "You're free. Take your chance."
At first, the prisoners stared blankly, too broken to understand. Then one man staggered forward, his eyes wide, disbelief and terror warring on his face. "Thank you," he whispered, before stumbling past Val. That broke the dam, and the others followed, pouring out like a flood, leaving behind chains, blood, and broken dreams.
But not all could leave.
At the far end of the block, a faint whimper caught Val's attention. He approached the last cell, where two young boys sat huddled together. One boy lay on his back, barely moving, his face pale, his leg a bloody stump wrapped in filthy cloth. The other, crying softly, looked up with terror as Val appeared. His eyes darted to Val's cold, intense gaze.
"I-is it my turn now, sir?" the boy asked, his voice trembling, his face a picture of resignation.
The question hit Val harder than any punch. He stepped inside, crouching down to the boy's level. "You're free," he said, forcing his voice to remain steady, though rage simmered beneath the surface. "Leave. Take your friend and get out."
But the boy shook his head, his voice a broken whisper. "He can't walk, sir. He… he lost his leg last week so they wouldn't choose him." He looked down at the limp figure beside him. "They just… left him here. Like he was trash."
A dark, violent fury twisted inside Val. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. But he pushed down the urge to go berserk, forcing himself to be calm.
"Stay here. We'll take care of him," he said, his voice rough as he reached out, placing a firm hand on the boy's shoulder.
Upstairs, the auction was beginning. Men and women with gleeful, twisted faces bid feverishly on each human "product," treating lives as mere commodities. Arthur Louser sat at the head, a disgusting grin stretched across his face as he raked in the bids.
Suddenly, the host announced, "And now! The main event of the night!" He gestured to the stage, and the crowd fell silent as Val was led out, chains clanking, eyes burning with hatred.
In the back row, Ember and Bo exchanged dark looks. The time had come.
A sharp, thin wire of ice, barely visible, extended from Bo's hand. A split-second later, the heads of every guest, except Louser, toppled silently from their bodies, eyes wide in permanent horror. The hall filled with a suffocating silence before blood erupted like fountains from the headless bodies, pooling on the ground, soaking into the fine carpets, splashing onto the remaining, terrified spectators.
Arthur spun around, his face painted with terror and flecks of blood. "You… monsters!" he screamed, stumbling back in horror as Bo and Ember advanced, their faces emotionless, their eyes glinting with murderous intent.
In a flash, Val was upon him, his hand twisting into Arthur's collar, forcing him to his knees. Val leaned close, his voice a deadly whisper. "You preyed on the weak. Treated children as fodder. Tell me, what mercy do you think you deserve?"
Arthur whimpered, his face pale, his mouth opening and closing like a dying fish. "Please… I can pay you! I'll give you whatever you want!"
"Your life," Val replied coldly.
A thick, dark mist coiled around Val's hand, sinking into Arthur's chest. Arthur's eyes bulged, his mouth gaping in silent agony as his heart disintegrated within his chest. His body collapsed, lifeless.
Ember stepped forward, extending a nearly invisible thread, and with a quick flick, decapitated Arthur's head cleanly. Blood sprayed across the room, splattering onto Val's expressionless face. He reached down, picking up the severed head, holding it up to the light.
"This," he said to his team, his voice reverberating in the silent hall, "is a warning for anyone who follows."
Outside, in the shadows beyond the doors, a lone figure watched, their eyes wide in horror, taking in every detail, every gruesome sight, as blood dripped down the stage like a river.