In the once-serene soulspace of Zeph, a symphony of booming, agonized screams echoed endlessly. Zeph, his small hands and legs constantly in motion, was unleashing his fury on the creature who had once boasted of feasting on his bones. The anger that had surged through Zeph earlier had not waned—instead, it seemed to grow with every passing moment, fueled by the satisfaction of his continuous assault.
The white-and-gold flames that cloaked his body ignited again, and as Zeph threw another fiery punch into the creature's chest, the searing blaze reduced it to ashes once more. But the creature, cursed with its god-like regeneration, resurrected itself from the embers, returning to its original state. No matter how thoroughly Zeph incinerated it, no matter how violently he tore it apart, the creature always came back.
The cycle of death and rebirth had continued for hours, and yet, strangely, Zeph never felt tired. Time within the soulspace moved differently, slower, but it did not seem to affect him. He was a child, yet in his soulspace, he possessed the stamina of a god. Every punch, every kick, every bite he took out of the creature felt effortless, almost fun. It was as if his soul was channeling his every desire for vengeance into this endless torment, and the more pain he inflicted, the more exhilaration he felt.
But for the creature, the story was much different.
With every regeneration, the agony it experienced deepened. The flames that Zeph wielded were no ordinary fires—they scorched the creature's very essence, burning through not just flesh but soul. Every time the flames engulfed it, the creature would feel itself consumed, torn apart, and utterly destroyed, only to be pulled back into existence, forced to endure the same cycle again and again.
Where once the creature had snarled and spat defiance, claiming to be the death of Zeph and Lucian, it now moaned pitifully. The screams that had once rung through the soulspace had diminished into soft, broken wails. The creature—once prideful, once a terror who had slaughtered millions—was now reduced to little more than a pitiful, quivering heap. It no longer looked toward Zeph with hatred, only fear.
Zeph's eyes, glowing with satisfaction, burned as he focused his attacks. His strategy had changed over time—he no longer aimed to simply burn the creature alive. Now, he was methodical. Each time the creature regenerated, Zeph targeted a different part of its body, testing the limits of its endurance. Sometimes, he would throw a punch into its stomach, the flames sizzling through its gut. Other times, he would claw at its back, leaving searing trails of fire in his wake. There were even moments when Zeph would wrap his small arms around the creature's head, clamping down with fiery teeth, biting into it like an animal claiming its prey.
It was a cruel game, one Zeph had grown to enjoy more than he'd expected.
Lucian, at first, had found the spectacle amusing. He watched from his energy throne, arms crossed, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he observed Zeph's relentless assault. But after a time, the novelty of the creature's torment had begun to wear off. His mind, always searching for knowledge, had already begun formulating new possibilities.
While Zeph vented his fury, Lucian considered the creature's unique physiology. The regenerative abilities it possessed were remarkable—its body, despite being burned to cinders repeatedly, would reconstruct itself, seemingly without effort. Curious, Lucian sent out a small thread of his own soul energy toward the creature. When the energy touched its body, the creature let out another pained whimper, its form shuddering as Lucian's energy seeped into it.
Lucian's interest piqued.
"What an interesting specimen," Lucian mused aloud. His eyes glinted with excitement as ideas blossomed in his mind. The creature was not only a source of pain and amusement for Zeph, but it could serve as the perfect subject for his experiments. He could study its anatomy, its resilience, and—most of all—the limits of its regeneration. Lucian leaned forward in his throne, intrigued by the potential knowledge he could glean from such a powerful entity.
Seeing Zeph now tiring of his constant battering, Lucian rose to his feet and approached. "Zeph," he called out, his voice breaking through the rhythmic thud of Zeph's punches. "I've formulated some experiments we could perform on this creature. Would you like to join me?"
Zeph paused, his eyes wide with curiosity. He had enjoyed venting his frustration on the creature, but the prospect of learning more—of discovering new things about this unknown being—ignited his interest even more. With a nod, Zeph agreed. His small face lit up at the thought of participating in something greater than simple violence.
Lucian's smile grew wider. "Excellent. Since it possesses such a powerful regenerative ability, we won't need to hold back."
Lucian gathered a few threads of energy from his own soulspace, swirling them around his fingers. The energy crackled with malevolence, and he looked toward Zeph expectantly. Understanding Lucian's intent, Zeph made a small opening in the barrier that once again surrounded the creature. It was a tiny crack, but it was all Lucian needed.
With precision and control, Lucian channeled his energy through the gap. As it touched the creature, the effect was immediate and brutal. The energy tore into the creature's body, shredding it into countless pieces. The creature let out a guttural scream, louder and more agonized than before, as it was literally ripped apart at a molecular level. Its limbs, its torso, its head—all were separated, floating in the air, writhing in unbearable pain.
But the creature did not die. As its pieces hung in the air, the regeneration began again, pulling them back together. Slowly, agonizingly, the creature reformed, whole once more—but only for a moment. Lucian, unfazed, repeated the process. The energy tore it apart again, scattering the creature's body across the soulspace.
And again, the creature screamed.
Zeph, fascinated by the process, watched with wide eyes. The pain that the creature was experiencing far surpassed anything Zeph had inflicted with his flames, and yet it kept coming back, regenerating itself from even the most horrific destruction. It was a cycle of torment that seemed endless, and with each repetition, the creature's cries grew louder, more desperate, reverberating across the once-tranquil soulspace.
Lucian's face remained calm, almost detached, as he continued his experiment. "Remarkable," he murmured, his voice barely audible above the creature's screams. "Its regenerative abilities are even more powerful than I anticipated."
The creature, broken and humiliated, could do nothing but endure the agony. There was no escape, no end in sight. Its body was repeatedly torn apart and reassembled, its mind trapped in an unending nightmare. The arrogance it had once shown was gone, replaced by the raw instinct to survive—an instinct that, in the face of Lucian and Zeph's cruelty, seemed pitiful and futile.
After what felt like an eternity, Lucian paused, his energy retracting into his body. He glanced over at Zeph, who was still watching with a mix of awe and excitement. "Shall we continue?" Lucian asked, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.
Zeph nodded eagerly, already preparing for the next round of experiments.
The creature, now reduced to nothing more than a helpless, screaming mass, could only pray that the end would come soon—though it knew, deep down, that in this place, there would be no mercy.