Under the three moons gazing down at the endless Bleeding Desert, a young man with silver hair walked calmly through the sand.

Behind him, a figure clad in a black cloak walked in silence. Dangling on its shoulder was a female covered in dry, cracked blood.

Her breathing was faint, and her face was deathly pale, as if she was struggling to draw each breath.

For a long moment, the only sounds that echoed were the footsteps of the young man, the cloaked figure, and the soft groans of the young woman dangling on its shoulder.

The desert wind howled fiercely in their ears, and in the distance, they could see the dunes shimmering like mirages.

Beauty born from danger and death.

Finally, the young man halted his track, and the cloaked figure dropped the young woman roughly to the ground.

Ahhh!

A sharp cry of pain escaped from her lips as she crashed onto the cold sand.

She licked the fresh blood from the corner of her lips and raised her head to look at the young man.

"Just kill me now," she said calmly, her eyes burning with strange determination. "You can forget about prying any secret from my mouth."

Since she had fallen into the hands of the Grim Reaper, she knew there was no escape.

Thus, she was already prepared for death. Staring deep into her eyes, the young man, who was obviously Thoren, could see her complete acceptance of death.

There was no fear in her gaze, only total surrender.

Somehow, she had given up on life entirely.

"Interesting," he whispered and looked at the cloaked figure.

Thud! Thud!

The cloaked figure walked toward the young woman, who was Cressida.

Looking at the figure draped in black, Cressida could not help but shudder violently.

She could already imagine what was going to happen next.

The Grim Reaper was cold and unforgiving, and his methods were legendary in their cruelty.

Ahhhhhhhhhh!

Crack! Crack!

A soul rending scream escaped from her throat as her bones were slowly crushed in a grotesque, deliberate display.

Blood splashed onto the desert sand and was instantly swallowed by the thirsty ground.

For a full one minute, the heart piercing scream permeated the still night air.

Ahhh! Ahhh!

Cressida wished she could be killed immediately, but her wish was far from being fulfilled.

Thoren watched with the same cold indifference as his undead servant crushed her bones one by one.

"Ahhh, I will talk. I will talk," Cressida pleaded, blood gushing out from all her major orifices.

She had lost every sensation from her left leg. It felt like her leg was no longer part of her body.

And indeed, it was no longer part of her body. It had been crushed into a bloody paste.

Flesh mixed with blood and bone dangled from what remained of her limb.

Her face was pale just like a ghost, having lost far too much blood.

Just as the undead servant wanted to move to her chest, it stopped abruptly and stepped back.

"Will you tell me what I want to know now?" Thoren asked casually.

Cressida did not respond immediately. She gasped for breath, her chest heaving painfully.

Slowly, she raised her head and looked at Thoren. A slow, sadistic grin crept up her blood covered face.

"Torture me as you like," she chuckled, her face twisted into a grotesque display of madness. "You will not hear a single word from my mouth."

Looking at her savage grin, Thoren was slightly surprised. Many would have broken under such torture, yet she was willing to endure such agony just to keep a guild secret.

’Is it possible there is more to this than I thought?’ He creased his brow, lost in thought.

’No matter what it is, I will find out,’ his eyes blazed with cold determination.

He did not believe that he could not break her completely.

"Let us see how you fare under this," he whispered and took a small bell from his inventory.

Seeing the silver bell, Cressida’s savage expression faltered instantly. ’No. No. Not this,’ she screamed in her mind.

She could withstand the pain of the flesh, but the pain of the soul was something she could not endure.

Ting!

Before she could react, Thoren shook the bell, and a soft, soul piercing chime echoed faintly across the desert.

Ahhh! Ahhh!

Cressida, already weak both physically and mentally, screamed at the top of her voice.

She spasmed on the ground vehemently, as if she was being electrocuted from within.

"Ahhh, I will talk," she screamed at the top of her voice, but Thoren did not stop shaking the bell.

Ahhh!

"P-P-PLEASE...CULT. I...CULT." She begged with all her strength.

"K-KILL...ME...AHHHHH" She shrieked. 𝚏𝕣𝕖𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚋𝚗𝐨𝐯𝕖𝕝.𝕔𝐨𝕞

She thought she understood how far the Grim Reaper was willing to go just to unravel the power behind. She was ready to die, bury everything with death.

But she was wrong.

Too wrong.

Suddenly, her scream rose to a crescendo, reaching another octave of pure agony.

On the ground, the cloaked figure began crushing all her ribs in a slow, gruesome display.

This pushed her completely over the edge. She was being assaulted with both physical and mental pain simultaneously.

It was too much.

Just too much for any living being to bear.

Yet, Thoren was everything with cold indifference.

Cressida swung her head back and forth in uncontrollable agony. An agony impossible to fathom by mere looking.

She was wrecked inside and out.

She screamed until her lungs almost burst from the pressure. Her tears turned into crimson streaks down her cheeks.

She had bitten through her own gum, and blood gushed out continuously from her mouth. She tried to numb the pain, but it was impossible.

The pain was too much for her mortal body to bear.

"I...belong...to ... .a cult...Ahhh Ahhh..." she gasped between sobs.

"Ahhh, ahhh."

"The slave...trade guild....is a..puppet...of the guild." she confessed, her voice breaking.

Thoren finally stopped shaking the bell. The desert fell silent once more, save for Cressida’s ragged, wet breathing.

****

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