My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger Chapter 1237 - 1238: A Man Of Silence

"Eiiiiiiahh... ahhh... graaass!"

Had there ever been a scream so desperate that it came out shallow and broken, as if the person making the sound wanted nothing more than to die?

Truly, he did.

He wished for death.

It was damp here, and the air carried the foul stench of human blood, vomit, urine, and feces.

The stench was one of human despair.

It was here that the faithful were broken, where God had died and the devil ruled. There was no mercy here. There was no god. There was no love.

There was only the desire for release.

It was here that man learned the cruel nature of life and realized that perhaps the goal of all life was death.

A fat man with enormous muscles stood nearby, holding a pair of tongs in his hands. His face was covered by a black mask that reached down to his neck.

His arms were covered in scars.

"Count back in fives," the man said calmly, without even glancing at the man seated on the chair covered in blood.

The man sitting in the chair had no teeth left in his mouth. His gums were swollen and bleeding, torn and forced out of place, with blood mixed with saliva dripping down his chin.

His fingers had no nails, exposing the soft red flesh beneath.

The clothes he had once worn had long since been stripped away, leaving him completely bare on the chair.

Stripped of every shred of dignity he possessed as a human being.

At first, he had cared about it.

But dignity meant nothing when pain was the master.

Of course, he was not here without reason.

He had committed a great crime.

A crime so deserving of such torment.

His crime was simple.

He had been born poor.

He had been born weak.

And he had fallen into the hands of someone born into power.

The world was unequal, and only common fools deluded themselves into believing otherwise.

There was no equality then.

There was no equality now.

And there would never be.

All your ideals and dreams would eventually turn to ash upon your tongue. You would taste the bitter nature of reality and realize just how insignificant you truly were.

How beautiful was life?

Life was very beautiful.

Such was its beauty.

Linga Felt had heard those words from the woman who had brought him here.

She had a twisted view of life, and the longer he was tormented in this place, the more he found himself beginning to mimic her.

It was as if his own tormented self was slowly being replaced by hers.

A vial of high-quality potion was poured into his mouth.

His body began to recover.

His vision cleared. His eyes could see properly again. His breathing was restored, and the blood filling his lungs disappeared.

It was a high-quality potion capable of restoring even severe wounds.

It was extremely expensive.

A common man could never obtain something like this.

In fact, Linga had spent years trying to acquire one when he was crippled, but he had never succeeded.

Not until Damon gave him one and allowed him to rebuild his life.

To think that the same kind of potion was now being used as an instrument of torture.

Linga cried.

But it wasn’t only because of the pain.

He cried because of how unfair it was.

They were using these precious potions simply to heal him and torture him again and again, while there were people outside who desperately needed them but would never have the chance to obtain even one.

"Haha... haha..."

A small laugh escaped his lips.

The man in charge of breaking him did not speak.

He was a man of few words, but a monster when it came to torment.

He would bring out small nails and slowly press them against Linga’s exposed fingers, drawing out each moment of pain as Linga begged and screamed.

"Tell me."

The man dragged Linga’s chair across the damp floor, moving him toward another section of the chamber.

It was dark.

Linga never saw what waited for him in the darkness, because there was always a bright light pointed directly at his face.

"I don’t know! I don’t know! I... I... please, let me go! I just want to stay here! Please!"

His tears streamed down his face, and he lost control of his bowels once more.

He knew the torture was about to begin again.

His agony would soon return.

That was when a thin fog appeared.

The fog slowly gathered, taking the shape of a woman.

"I admire your loyalty, Linga Felt. Truly, I do. Your devotion to whoever it is you are protecting is commendable."

The woman smiled faintly.

"A shame it isn’t mutual."

The fog moved closer to his ear.

"Tell me what you’re hiding. Tell me what lie you’re telling. I am a curious woman, and I can’t let you die unless you do."

"I don’t know! I don’t know!"

Linga struggled against the chair, screaming as he desperately tried to thrash his body free.

Terra sighed.

She glanced toward the large man wearing the black mask.

"Troll. Continue your work. He needs a few more days."

Linga’s hands trembled so violently that his entire body shook.

He began releasing hoarse screams, almost like the sound of someone trapped in sleep paralysis.

Except he was awake.

He was painfully awake.

"Don’t worry. No one will hurt you today. You can have some time to think."

When she said those words, Linga could feel the vile intent hidden beneath them.

"Right, you didn’t ask about your family."

Terra tilted her head slightly.

"Come to think of it, you haven’t asked about them for the last two days. I suppose you forgot about them."

She smiled.

"They’re doing well for now."

Linga’s lips trembled.

His mind immediately went to his wife and his two young children.

The man began dragging him into the darkness.

Once they reached the next section, he forced Linga’s head into position and covered his eyes with a blindfold.

Linga thrashed violently.

He waited for the pain.

But it never came.

Instead, he felt a cold drop of water land on his forehead.

That was all.

But it was only the beginning.

Another drop soon followed.

It landed on the exact same spot.

Then another.

Intermittently, the drops continued to fall against his forehead.

At first, it wasn’t anything.

But alone with his thoughts, with nothing to hear except the endless drops of water, the hours slowly passed.

He tried many times to move his head, but it was locked firmly in place.

"Ahhhhhhhhh... hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!"

Soon, he began screaming until his voice grew hoarse.

He cried.