Chapter 46: Torture

Chapter 46: Torture

"Listen, Max. I know that you're still hiding things from me."

Raising his left hand, Emir lightly slapped Max's face twice.

"C'mon man, just stop wasting my time, we both know what would happen if you don't tell me all that you know."

Max's eyes widened in fear, and he began to stutter:

"O-okay, l-look, I already told you everything I know, the rest wouldn't help you, b-but I'll tell you anyway, okay? J-just don't hurt me."

Emir tightened his grip on the knife and stood up from the table.

He leaned in closer, the knife still pressed against Max's throat.

"That's better," he growled.

"Now tell me all you know about this warehouse. What's the entrance like? How many guards do they have? Are there any weaknesses I can exploit?"

Max stammered out a jumble of answers, clearly terrified of Emir's threatening demeanor.

But nothing of what he said was of use, only confirming that Max was continuing with his act of barely knowing anything.

And Emir noticed that, so he slapped Max across the face, stronger this time, and pressed him for more details:

"I know there's more you're not telling me. And I'm begging you here, it's getting very hard not to kill you right now... So just tell me, alright?!"

Shaking his head, Emir rebuked himself:

"Actually... scratch that, just follow me and don't make a sound. We'll talk in private."

Just as those words left his mouth, he signaled Max to stand up using his knife.

Max shot up from his seat, his body trembling with fear, and reluctantly stepped forward.

His every movement cautious as he made his way towards the bar's exit under Emir's watchful gaze.

With the knife hidden behind Max's back, Emir followed him out of the bar and through the winding corridors of the slums.

They eventually arrived at a secluded corner, with Emir keeping the knife pressed against Max's back the entire way there.

When they moved further into the alleyway, Emir finally let him go.

And so Max moved away, planting his behind against a nearby wall.

He stuttered, asking:

"Are...are you going to kill me?"

Emir scoffed, having none of it.

"I don't have time for your lies. Your life depends on how cooperative you are."

"Now, spill everything you know about this group."

Max gulped nervously.

"I swear that I told you all I know, man, I don't know anything else."

Emir propped up his knife once again and held Max's arm with his left hand, sinking his knife into it at a very slow pace.

"That's not good enough! IF you don't stop lying to me, you'll have to say goodbye to your right hand that you love so much! C'mon man! I'm giving you an out here TAKE IT!"

Letting out a sigh, he stepped back as if trying hard to control himself.

Shaking his head, he continued:

"This is the last time I will be asking this, make it count. So... you said you've been following them for a while. What else have you seen?"

Max's face contorted as if he was frantically trying to remember anything he could tell Emir.

"I...I overheard them talking about secret entrances to some of the UEF-owned ruins, it's probably where they got their relics from."

Lowering his knife slightly, Emir said:

"That's more like it. Is there anything else?"

Max shook his head.

"That's all I know, I swear... Now...please let me go."

Emir smirked.

"You should've just told me everything from the start, you wasted both of our times with your useless drivel."

With a sudden lunge forward, he plunged his knife into Max's throat, while covering his mouth, holding back any potential scream.

"You can rest easy now, Max. Your poor brother will be avenged."

He pulled the knife out of Max's neck and propped his dead body up on his shoulder, disappearing into the shadows, leaving no trace of his involvement except for the questionable knowledge he gained.

'He acted suspicious from the start, I can't trust him with most of what he said, and for all I know, he might be directly involved with the group, and well....'

'His body will be needed for my second plan.'

[Lyra, lead me to the best inn nearby.]

[Understood.]

Her hologram instantly materialized as she walked in front of Emir, her appearance and attire standing out against the backdrop of the dingy slums.

Emir followed behind her and carefully made his way to the inn, trying to stay inconspicuous.

His mind raced with thoughts of one of the three underworld factions being involved, as was subtly revealed by Max.

And minutes before they reached the inn, Lyra informed him:

[The Lost Inn is in the next block forward.]

[Good, let's proceed with the plan.] Emir said as he threw Max's body away in a corner.

...

As Emir pushed open the creaky doors of The Lost Inn, the scent of stale alcohol mingled with the smoky air of the establishment hit him like a wave.

And his arrival did not go unnoticed, as his eyes immediately fell upon a stooped, middle-aged man tending to the worn bar counter, his tired eyes trained on Emir, reflecting a lifetime of hardship.

At the nearby tables, clusters of weary hunters in tattered gear clutched their drinks, their battle-worn gear telling stories of past encounters drowned their sorrows in glasses of cheap liquor.

He walked up to the man and asked:

"Do you have a room available for one person, just for tonight?"

In a gruff voice, he replied:

"It'll cost you 100 UC. And don't even think about complaining about the price. With gear like that, you can definitely afford it."

"Just give me the damn room!" Emir spat, not in the mood for bickering.

With a deep voice laced with an undercurrent of menace, his words reverberated through the room, filling it with an aura of intimidation.

His dark eyes, devoid of any trace of warmth, pierced through those who dared to meet his gaze, leaving them unsettled in his presence.

Towering over most, his imposing figure instilled fear in the hearts of both hunters and ordinary bystanders alike, despite their familiarity with the daily struggles of survival in the slums.

Even the middle-aged hunchback, tending to the worn bar counter, couldn't escape the grip of fear that tightened around him.

Trembling, he extended a key to Emir and stammered:

"I-I'm sorry for any disrespect I've shown. Please, take our best room. I don't want any trouble."

Emir snickered as he grabbed the key from the innkeeper's hand.

"Good that you know."

Saying that, he made his way upstairs, following the room number he was given.

When he reached the second floor, he walked down the hallway until he found room 201.

Inserting the key into the lock, he opened the door and stepped inside.

And he was greeted by a nice room with a simple bed, desk, wardrobe, and bathroom.

Still donning his rucksack, he sat down at his desk and began to analyze all the potential ways things could go wrong.

But it was clear that what he had in mind had to be done, this group was fully armed and potentially had access to illegal relics, making it a daunting task to take them down one by one.

While in thought, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched.

He quickly scanned the room but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

Continuing his planning, he acted as though he had brushed it off.

And without warning, a noise pierced the air behind him.

Emir's instincts kicked in, and he swiftly pivoted, his eyes widening as a shadowy figure barreled into him with incredible force, sending him sprawling to the ground.

He exerted every ounce of strength to rise to his feet, his muscles straining against the pain, but the figure was too fast.

He felt a sharp pain in his side as they plunged a knife into him.

Emir, now stranded on the ground, caught a glimpse of their mask, realizing that they were a member of the group he had been going after.

It looked to be a woman with cold, calculating eyes.

She wore all black, with a long coat that billowed behind her as she moved.

"You're quite the troublemaker, aren't you?" She sneered as she drew her knife out of Emir's side.

Blood poured out of the wound, and Emir struggled to catch his breath.

"Who...who are you?" He gasped.

While speaking, he tried to reach for his own knife but found that it was no longer in its sheath.

He acted out, exaggerating his panic.

Seeing his reaction, she chuckled darkly and said:

"You may call me Raven. And you, my friend, are in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Emir gritted his teeth, feeling his strength start to fade.

"What do you want from me?" He growled.

She leaned in close so that her face was just inches from his.

"I'm only a hired hand, friend, and you are in... Very... Big... Trouble..."

And before Emir could respond, she plunged her knife into him again.

This time, the pain was too much for his body to bear, and everything went black.

...

...

As Emir regained consciousness, he tried to move but realized that he was tied up, his arms bound with chains.

His eyes strained to make sense of his surroundings in the dimly lit room.

The flickering light revealed bare concrete walls, cold and unwelcoming.

The air hung heavy with the stench of dampness and despair.

A single bulb dangling from the ceiling cast eerie shadows that danced across the blood-stained floor.

There was no mistaking it—it was a simple torture room.

The eerie silence was punctuated only by the distant hum of machinery, a haunting reminder of the torment that awaited him.

His head throbbed, as he tried to recall how he ended up in this situation.

But just as he remembered, a figure wearing a mask entered the room.

"Ah, you're awake," they said.

"Good. We've been waiting for you to come around."

A desperate need to speak clawed at Emir's throat, yet his parched vocal cords offered only a raspy whisper.

Croak...

Noticing that, the figure grasped a bottle of water and forcefully jammed it into Emir's mouth.

The cool plastic pressed against his lips, and as the water gushed into his mouth, he choked and sputtered, his body instinctively gasping for air amidst the deluge.

With a burned throat, Emir's gaze remained fixed on the figure, observing their eyes narrowing with a cruel satisfaction, as they slowly retracted the bottle.

He coughed out water all over the place, forcefully expelling it and speaking through the remnants of the liquid that lingered in his mouth.

"Who are you?" Emir demanded, his voice strained.

"And why are you after me?"

The figure smirked.

"My name isn't important. What is important is that I am a part of the group you were looking around for, and we know everything about you, Emir. Your family, your friends, your cute little date, and your connection to the old-world network."

Emir's eyes widened, barely managing to hide his reaction, as he thought, 'Dammit! I was careful in keeping my connection with Lyra a secret, but it looks like it has been uncovered or at least suspected.'

'Well... At least I now know why they went after me.'

"We want you to tell us how to access the old-world network," the figure said.

"And we're willing to do whatever it takes to get that information from you."

Just as he said that, he disappeared into a separate room for a few moments before returning with a tray.

The tray was filled with an assortment of sharp and dangerous-looking objects, such as knives, needles, and screws—the basic stuff.

He placed it down next to Emir's chair before stepping back.

"I don't need to explain what we will do to you, right?" He asked.

"Speak now if you want an easy death."

Seeing that Emir had no intention of speaking, he picked up a knife.

And with that, Emir's nightmare began.

The torturer plucked out his thumb's nail using the knife, then proceeded to skewer it with needles.

Emir gritted his teeth and tried to endure the upcoming trial.

Each needle skewered into his finger brought him more pain than the last, with each nerve ending screaming in protest.

'FUCK...ING HELL!! GOD Dammit! I will have to go through this for a few days at least, I can't tap out now!' Emir screamed inwardly, keeping himself in check.

And seeing that Emir was still holding strong, the man paused his torture only to burst into laughter, relishing in the thought of prolonging Emir's suffering.

Offering no respite, he resumed his assault, this time targeting Emir's other fingers.

And despite Emir's efforts to suppress the agony, he couldn't help but bellow even more, internally, of course, and many of those words were of the atrocious kind.

Once the feeling had vanished from Emir's right arm, the man moved on to Emir's left, repeating the same brutal process.

Like clockwork, Emir endured the pain without showing any signs of surrender.

But as the torturer twisted Emir's pinky finger on his left hand, it suddenly snapped, catching him off guard.

His vocal cords tensed, and his throat burned with the raw desire to unleash a bloodcurdling scream.

Yet, with an iron will, he clamped down on the rising tide of agony, his teeth sinking into his lower lip until coppery blood trickled into his mouth, suppressing the scream that threatened to tear from his throat.

Not wanting to give the bastard in front of him the satisfaction of winning over him.

"Wow, impressive. Really. No one has ever endured that without even whimpering in agony before. Good job," he remarked, his tone dripping with condescending mockery.

"But we have a long way to go, so shall we continue?" He asked, eager to prolong Emir's suffering even further.