Halochassis

It was a shameful sight.

Adzeel stood at the center of the public podium, completely naked, his muscular and heavily scarred body exposed before the entire city of Luminous City. His wrists were bound tightly to a thick wooden stake, the rough ropes digging into his skin as he stood beneath the harsh afternoon sun. Scars covered his body from years of battles, each one a reminder of the countless fights he had survived. Now, however, those scars were displayed for the entire city to see, not as marks of a warrior’s pride, but as part of his public humiliation.

The streets surrounding the podium were packed with angry citizens. Their voices merged into a deafening wall of hatred as they shoved against one another just to get a better view of the infamous Iron Bandit. The smell of sweat, dust, and the countless bodies packed together filled the hot air. Then came the rotten scent of food as someone hurled a bruised tomato toward him.

Splat!

The tomato struck Adzeel’s chest and burst across his skin. Red pulp and seeds slowly slid down his muscular torso. Another person threw an egg, which struck his shoulder and shattered, leaving pieces of shell clinging to his skin as the yolk dripped down his arm.

“Die, you bandit!”

“How dare you kill our heroes!”

“Fuck you! I hope you and your mother die!”

Those were only a few of the cries rising from the furious mob. Hundreds of voices screamed at him from every direction, some filled with hatred, others with grief, and many simply eager to see the notorious criminal suffer. Their insults echoed between the surrounding buildings, turning the entire square into a storm of rage.

Yet, instead of lowering his head in shame, Adzeel smiled.

The tomato covering his chest did not bother him. He slowly licked some of the juice from his lips and chuckled.

“Hm. Sweet.”

Another egg struck the side of his face and broke against his cheek. He wiped away some of the yolk with his tongue.

“And savory.” His grin widened.

The crowd became even louder, but Adzeel barely seemed to hear them anymore. His eyes slowly swept across the sea of furious faces. Beneath his smile was something far more frightening than anger. It was a cold, murderous intent that made his expression look almost predatory.

“If I’m not shackled to this stake, I’d kill each and every one of you! Hahaha!”

Adzeel’s laughter thundered across the podium. It was deep, rough, and completely devoid of shame. The sound caused some people near the front to recoil despite their hatred for him. Others simply screamed louder, throwing more food in his direction.

Beside him stood the golden hero, the Chosen One, Alexander Goldheart.

Unlike Adzeel, Alexander looked immaculate. His pristine white clothing barely showed a speck of dust, and his golden armor reflected the sunlight with an almost blinding brilliance. His legendary golden sword rested at his side, its polished surface glowing beneath the afternoon sun. His golden eyes remained fixed on Adzeel with undisguised disdain.

He could not understand him.

Why is he smiling?

Alexander’s expression remained composed, but his thoughts were filled with confusion.

This situation is entirely detrimental to him. He is being publicly shamed, surrounded by thousands of people who despise him, and displayed like a criminal. He is completely naked, covered in rotten food, and awaiting punishment. Why does he look as though he is enjoying himself?

Adzeel noticed Alexander staring at him. Slowly, he turned his head toward the Chosen One. Their eyes met.

Adzeel’s menacing smile remained unchanged, even with crushed tomato smeared across his chest and eggshells stuck to his hair and face. His expression seemed to grow even more sinister as he looked directly into Alexander’s golden eyes.

“Go on. Do your duty,” Adzeel said.

Alexander stared at him for several seconds before finally dematerializing his golden sword. The brilliant weapon dissolved into particles of golden light, disappearing from his hand as his expression became colder.

“Today is not the day you will die, Adzeel Schwarzer,” Alexander said calmly. “You still have so much to tell me. About the remaining Iron Bandits. About the Halochassis.”

Adzeel’s smile disappeared for only a moment. Then he leaned forward as much as the restraints allowed and spat directly onto Alexander’s immaculate white trousers.

“Go to hell, scum!”

The glob of saliva landed against the pristine fabric. Alexander’s eyebrow twitched.

For a brief moment, irritation flashed across his otherwise controlled face. He looked down at the stain, his golden eyes narrowing as the moisture slowly spread across the white cloth. Of everything that had happened today, this seemed to offend his sense of dignity more than Adzeel’s insults.

He could not bear the thought of his immaculate clothes being stained by someone he considered nothing more than a lowly criminal. Yet Alexander knew better than to give in to his emotions.

His position demanded control. His reputation demanded dignity. Thousands of citizens were watching him, and any visible outburst could damage the image he had carefully cultivated as the Chosen One. So instead of reacting with anger, he slowly raised his head and smiled.

“Take him back to the dungeon,” Alexander said.

The soldiers immediately obeyed. Several armored guards approached Adzeel and began removing him from the wooden stake. The restraints were released one by one, only to be replaced with heavier chains. Thick iron cuffs were locked around his wrists and ankles, each connected to enormous iron balls that struck the stone floor with heavy metallic thuds.

Clang.

Clang.

The chains dragged behind Adzeel as the soldiers forced him away from the podium. Another guard fastened a thick metal collar around his neck. It was designed to restrict his movements and prevent him from using his strength to escape, making him look less like a defeated warrior and more like some dangerous beast being transported back into captivity.

The crowd continued to scream.

“Execute him!”

“Kill the bandit!”

“Don’t let him escape!”

Adzeel merely laughed again.

As the soldiers marched him away, they whipped him whenever he slowed down. The leather cracked against his scarred back with sharp, echoing sounds, leaving fresh red marks across old scars.

Yet Adzeel did not scream. Instead, he laughed.

The pain seemed to amuse him. Every strike only made his grin wider, as though the sensation of being beaten reminded him that he was still alive. He deliberately dragged his feet across the stone pavement, forcing the soldiers to strike him again and again.

“Hahaha!”

His laughter echoed through the square.

The soldiers exchanged uneasy glances. They had expected a defeated criminal to beg, cry, or at least curse his fate. Instead, Adzeel seemed almost entertained by his own punishment.

Alexander remained on the podium for a moment, watching the prisoner disappear through the cathedral entrance.

Then he turned toward the crowd.

The citizens were still enraged.

Many of them had expected an execution. They had gathered in the square believing they would watch the infamous Iron Bandit pay for his crimes in front of everyone. Instead, their anger had only grown when they learned that Adzeel would be returned to the dungeon for further interrogation.

Their voices continued to rise like an angry tide.

Alexander’s expression hardened. For a moment, he frowned as the noise washed over him. He could feel the weight of thousands of eyes upon him, demanding an answer he had no intention of giving.

He said nothing. Without another word, Alexander stepped away from the podium and entered the cathedral. The heavy doors swallowed the noise of the crowd behind him, replacing the screaming voices with the colder echoes of stone corridors.

Ahead of him, the soldiers continued dragging the chained Adzeel deeper into the cathedral’s dungeon.

The iron balls scraped against the floor.

Clang.

Clang.

Clang.

And somewhere beneath the cathedral, Adzeel was still laughing.

Back in the dungeons beneath Luminous City, Adzeel was still being tortured by the soldiers while Alexander watched from outside the cell. The underground chamber reeked of damp stone, sweat, and old blood. Water seeped between the cracks in the walls, forming small puddles beneath the flickering torches. The air was cold and stale, but the heat of the torches did little to make the place feel comfortable.

Adzeel was chained by both his wrists and ankles, his arms pulled upward while heavy iron restraints kept his legs firmly in place. His muscular body was covered in fresh bruises, red welts, and shallow cuts from the repeated blows. Every time the whip cracked against his skin, the sound bounced through the narrow dungeon corridor with a sharp snap that seemed to linger in the darkness. Yet despite the pain, Adzeel refused to give them the information they wanted.

“Where are the other Halochassis!?”

The soldiers shouted the same question again and again until their voices became hoarse. They demanded names, locations, anything that would lead them to the remaining Iron Bandits. But Adzeel answered every question with either silence or mocking laughter. His lips were split from the beating, and there was dried blood around his mouth, yet he still managed to grin as though the entire situation were some kind of joke.

The soldiers eventually became frustrated enough to resort to even dirtier methods, striking areas intended to humiliate him rather than simply hurt him.

“Where are the other Halochassis!?” one of them barked again.

Adzeel lifted his head, his long hair hanging over his sweaty face. Instead of fear, there was that same irritating smile in his eyes.

“You should aim for my left nut,” Adzeel said through a crooked grin. “I’m getting itchy over there! Hahaha!”

The soldier’s expression twisted with anger. He raised the whip and struck.

Adzeel’s entire body jerked against the chains, the iron restraints rattling violently against the stone wall. For a brief moment, his grin disappeared under the shock of the pain, but it returned almost immediately.

“Whooohooo! Awesome!” Adzeel laughed like a madman, his voice echoing through the dungeon. “Maybe you should jerk me off as well!”

The soldier’s face turned red with rage. His hand moved toward his sword, fingers wrapping tightly around the hilt.

“I’ll skin your stick while I’m at it!”

Adzeel merely stared back at him, completely unafraid. The other soldier seemed ready to continue, but before either of them could make another move, Alexander’s calm voice cut through the room.

“Enough.”

The single word carried more authority than all the shouting that came before it.

Both soldiers immediately stopped. One lowered his whip while the other reluctantly released his sword. They glanced toward Alexander, then bowed their heads before stepping out of the cell. The heavy metal door groaned as it opened, then slammed shut behind them with a deep clang that echoed throughout the dungeon.

For the first time in hours, Adzeel and Alexander were alone.

“This is just the first day. There will be endless ones to come,” Alexander said.

His voice was calm, almost gentle, which somehow made the threat even more disturbing. He stepped closer to the bars and raised one white-gloved hand toward Adzeel. Golden light gathered around his fingers before transforming into a soft green glow.

“Heal.”

A stream of green magical dust drifted through the air and settled over Adzeel’s battered body. The warmth spread across his skin almost immediately. Cuts closed. Swollen bruises faded. Torn flesh knitted together as though the injuries had never existed. Even the old scars from battles fought years ago slowly disappeared beneath the magical light.

The healing should have brought relief.

Instead, the moment Adzeel’s wounds disappeared, his smile vanished. His jaw tightened. His fists clenched as much as the chains allowed, and his teeth ground together hard enough to make his temples ache.

Alexander watched the transformation with cold amusement.

“We can do this over and over again. I will heal you, hurt you, then heal you again.” His golden eyes glowed faintly in the darkness as he stared directly at Adzeel. “I will not grant you a sweet, swift death. Instead, I will give you a life everlasting, and you will see the end of your allies.”

Adzeel’s breathing grew heavier.

For a few seconds, neither man spoke. The dungeon seemed unnaturally quiet, with only the faint crackle of the torches filling the silence.

Adzeel finally lifted his head.

“Fuck you, Alex,” he roared.

His voice echoed through the stone chamber.

“Fuck you!”

Alexander’s lips curled into the faintest of smirks. He turned around and walked away without another word.

His footsteps echoed down the corridor, each step growing fainter as he disappeared deeper into the dungeon. Behind him, the torch flames began to weaken one by one. The bright orange glow that had illuminated the chamber slowly dimmed until only a few trembling flames remained.

Then even those began to fade.

Adzeel was left alone.

The darkness swallowed most of the cell, leaving only a thin stream of pale moonlight shining through a small barred window high above the wall. The moonlight fell across the floor in a narrow silver strip, barely strong enough to reveal the outline of his chained body.

For a while, Adzeel simply stood there, breathing heavily.

Then he noticed something cold touch his forehead.

Drip.

A droplet of water fell from the ceiling.

Drip.

Another landed in almost the exact same spot.

Adzeel frowned.

The water was freezing against his skin, and after everything he had endured, the tiny sensation somehow felt more irritating than it should have. He tried shifting his head away, but the chains prevented him from moving very far.

Drip.

The droplet hit his forehead again.

Drip.

Again.

Each impact was tiny, almost meaningless, yet the repetitive sound slowly began to crawl into his mind. It echoed through the silent dungeon with maddening consistency.

Adzeel found himself panting for no apparent reason. His chest rose and fell heavily, and his muscles trembled from exhaustion. Maybe it was the beating. Maybe it was the magical healing. Maybe he had simply reached the point where his body could no longer distinguish pain from fatigue.

He looked down at his chains. There was nowhere to sit comfortably. At this rate, he would have to sleep standing up.

Adzeel closed his eyes.

For the first time since his capture, his thoughts drifted away from himself and toward the others.

Were they safe?

His mind immediately went to Risha. He couldn’t stop himself from worrying about her, even though he knew her bloodline came from the phoenix clan, beings said to possess immortality. Risha was stubborn enough to survive almost anything, but that did not mean Adzeel could stop himself from thinking about what might have happened to her.

Then there was Shin.

And Aether.

Neither of them had been found during the raid in the slums. Shin had managed to send a warning through his raven before everything went wrong, so Adzeel held onto the hope that the two of them had escaped before the soldiers arrived.

He breathed slowly, trying to convince himself that they were alive.

Then he heard something.

Footsteps.

Adzeel’s eyes opened immediately.

The sound came from somewhere down the corridor. Slow. Measured. Unhurried. Someone was approaching.

A faint light soon appeared in the darkness, reflected against the damp stone walls. Adzeel narrowed his eyes as the figure drew closer. The footsteps became clearer with every passing second until the stranger finally stepped into the dim moonlight.

Short golden hair. Green irises. A handsome face that looked almost completely out of place in the filthy dungeon.

He wore elegant black-and-gold royal clothing beneath a pristine white cape, every part of his appearance sharply contrasting with the bloodstained walls and rusty chains surrounding Adzeel.

The stranger stopped in front of the cell and offered a polite smile.

“I hope I was not disturbing your peaceful rest, Sir Schwarzer.”

Adzeel’s eyes widened. His exhaustion disappeared for a moment, replaced by pure shock.

“Wait... you are...”

The handsome man immediately raised one finger to his lips.

“Shh.”

His expression remained calm as he silently warned Adzeel to keep his voice down. Then he reached into his clothing and pulled out a set of keys. The metal keys glinted faintly under the moonlight as he slid one into the lock.

Click.

The cell door unlocked. Adzeel stared at the mysterious visitor, his mind racing as the door slow