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Who could he have wronged so gravely?
Whose life was he being made to pay for?
The questions swirled in his mind, but before he could formulate a coherent response, another blow struck him, this time a fierce kick to his ribs that knocked the breath from his lungs.
Gasping for air and reeling from the pain, Jansen could only watch in horror as the girl loomed over him, her eyes burning with a cold determination that sent shivers down his spine.
"Your time is up," she whispered, her voice dripping with malice as she raised the knife once more, ready to deliver the final blow.
The girls had descended into madness, Jansen realized, as they mercilessly pounded his face, each blow delivered with the intent of keeping him conscious. "No! You can't die just yet. I haven't had my fun," one of them sneered, her grin twisted with sadistic delight.
"Hang him," she ordered the other girl, who had been watching silently all along, her satisfaction evident in her satisfied smile.
In the grim scene that followed, the two girls bound one of Jansen's leg tightly, securing them to the iron frame of the upper bunk bed. With grim determination, they wound the ropes around his ankle, each knot pulled tight with a malicious fervor.
Jansen could feel the rough texture of the rope digging into his skin, the pressure mounting with each turn until his legs were firmly immobilized.
As the last knot was secured, Jansen found himself suspended in mid-air, his legs dangling helplessly above the ground. The girls stepped back to admire their handiwork, their faces twisted with cruel satisfaction as they surveyed their captive prey.
With a final, chilling smile, the girl who had given the order stepped forward, her eyes gleaming with anticipation as she prepared to unleash a new wave of torment upon her helpless victim.
Jansen's body hung in a grotesque inversion, starkly exposed in its naked vulnerability. But the true horror and torment came from the asymmetry of his predicament—while one leg dangled freely, the other was cruelly left to bear the entirety of his weight, causing an excruciating sensation as if his groin had been torn asunder.
"Pl-please... forgive me... I beg of you. Anything, anything you ask for, I'll give it... I'll even make amends for the life you seek... but please, release me—"
"AAAGHHH! IT HURTS LIKE HELL! PLEASE! IS ANYONE OUT THERE! I BEG YOU, GET ME OUT OF HERE!"
His pleas echoed off the walls of the chamber, a desperate cry for mercy lost in the depths of his tormentors' depravity.
And as the minutes stretched into eternity, Jansen's screams of agony served as a chilling reminder of the price to be paid for his sins.
"Hahaha, damn. My heart is racing from those futile screams," she chuckled darkly, her grin stretching wider until her eyes disappeared behind the curve of her smile. It was as if the echoes of Jansen's torment fueled her sadistic pleasure.
With a deliberate slowness, she shifted her gaze back to Jansen's exposed groin, her eyes glinting with a perverse fascination.
Then, with a swift and calculated motion, she seized one of his legs and pulled it in the opposite direction, eliciting a sickening snap that reverberated through the room.
The symphony of Jansen's agonized screams seemed to resonate with a twisted harmony in the ears of the two girls, their faces twisted into expressions of wicked delight as they reveled in the sight of their captive's suffering.
The relentless onslaught of agony surged through him, driving him to maintain consciousness against the overwhelming tide.
His body convulsed, muscles rigid and flushed with the intensity of his torment, while veins protruded, swollen and pulsating with each beat of his anguished heart.
"P-please... release me... I-I promise I won't... repeat the same... mistake...." His words were choked out between ragged gasps, the desperation evident in his trembling voice.
SRRRRTTT!
"ARGHHH ENOUGH! I BEG OF YOU, NO MORE! PLEASE, DON'T INFLICT ANY MORE PAIN! JUST END IT! I BEG OF YOU! JUST END IT ALL!" The raw anguish in his voice reverberated through the room, a plea born of sheer desperation and unbearable suffering.
"Oh? Has he given up already? Despite seeming to relish killing his business rival, or that girl?" remarked the casually lounging girl, a hint of amusement coloring her tone.
Her words only fueled the anger of the other girl. With a determined expression, she flexed the muscles in her hands, readying herself to administer the final touch to her grand act of vengeance.
With calculated precision, her hand began to move, tracing intricate patterns across Jansen's abdomen.
Then, without hesitation, she repeatedly struck his stomach with a baseball bat retrieved from the corner of the room, each blow intended to soften his bones in preparation for the impending slicing.
Each impact echoed through the chamber, a grim accompaniment to the symphony of Jansen's agonized cries.
"Y-you? Wh-who are you really?" Jansen's voice quivered with a mixture of fear and disbelief as he struggled to comprehend the identity of his tormentor.
"Don't you recognize this voice? Excellent!"
As the heavens opened up, unleashing a torrential downpour that pounded against the earth, Jansen's mind conjured the haunting silhouette of Viktor.
The thunderous booms and crackling lightning illuminated the scene, casting Viktor's shadow through the figure of the girl who carried out his vengeance.
It was as if the elements themselves conspired to reveal the truth, highlighting the grotesque irony of Jansen's demise at the hands of his own misdeeds.
"Y-you?" Jansen stammered, his voice barely audible over the roar of the storm and the agonized cries that echoed in the chamber.
As Jansen's breath faltered, his life ebbed away, mingling with the spill of his own entrails. With a steady hand, Viktor extracted the contents of Jansen's abdomen, the crimson fluid coating his fingers in a macabre display.
Despite not inhabiting his physical body, Viktor still wielded the power of Malphas to animate the young prostitute's body.
Despite the surreal nature of the situation, he could sense every sensation experienced by the girl—her touch, her scent, her very essence.
It was a strange and disorienting sensation, but also oddly comforting as he witnessed the grisly fate befalling Jansen.
As he surveyed the grotesque scene before him, Viktor's stomach churned with revulsion and relief in equal measure.
The sight of Jansen's wretched condition brought a sickening satisfaction, a twisted sense of justice served.
Yet, the sheer brutality of his own actions and the visceral reality of the scene threatened to overwhelm him, causing a wave of nausea to wash over him.
He pushed aside his discomfort, focusing solely on the task at hand—the completion of his bloody retribution.
Blurred vision and the overwhelming stench of death threatened to overwhelm Viktor, causing his stomach to churn and his head to swim.
"Now what?" inquired the beautiful girl, her voice a soothing contrast to the chaos around them, as she handed Viktor a handkerchief to wipe away the blood.
"One more person... related to him..." Viktor's words were barely audible, strained through gritted teeth as he fought to maintain his resolve amidst the horrors of his vengeance.