Profane Ascendant-Chapter 57: Lord Sadist

A sound seized Cyn's full attention, coming from the corridor in front of him.

It carried the same tone—one that had always belonged to him.

Yet at this moment, Cyn could not care less. Damn everything else—he only wanted to see which bastard had laid a trap for him and begun attacking from nowhere.

At that moment, the figure emerged from the corridor, moving with steady, heavy steps.

Cyn took two steps back—not out of fear, but in preparation for something.

His first impression was immediate:

Wait— I know him from somewhere. But I can't remember…

I have the feeling I've met him before. He looks like a swindler… a con artist.

Despite the pressure and the captivating presence standing before him, Cyn sensed something fraudulent screaming from the man in front of him.

He was dressed in an entirely white suit, its interior lining embroidered in soft violet cotton.

His long blond hair, streaked with golden strands, was slicked back—shining as if damp, like it had been soaked in horse saliva or something similar.

His facial expression radiated confidence, tinged with arrogance—but to Cyn, it felt artificial.

Behind that mask, Cyn glimpsed emptiness.

The same emptiness he himself suffered from.

But these thoughts and instincts lasted only a few seconds.

The man wore a single earring on his left ear—a reversed cross.

Although Cyn did not sense misfortune or negative emotions emanating from him, he knew one thing clearly:

anyone who bore an inverted cross was a heretic.

He was tall and broad-shouldered, comparable to Cyn himself—yet there was a noticeable difference in "quality."

And then there was the strangest part.

The presence vanished completely.

The pressure disappeared entirely.

Cyn no longer felt the man's presence—no pressure, no aura.

Just an empty husk standing before him, wearing a faint smile directed at Cyn.

The man stopped near the corridor, not approaching further, and spoke in a surprised tone, as if genuinely astonished:

"So… it turns out to be you after all?"

Cyn immediately recognized it as a deceptive question—a bait meant to draw him in.

He knew the man did not truly know anything about him.

But the fact that he asked meant he wanted something.

Once again, with raised brows and feigned surprise:

"No reaction? Yet your eyes say otherwise.

You are him, aren't you?

You were enlightened beforehand—but for some reason, you chose to hide it.

Are we not worthy of your trust?

You're the final piece we're missing."

What nonsense is he spouting? Enlightened? Final piece?

What am I supposed to know about any of this?

In a dark tone befitting his sadistic instincts and current state, Cyn replied coldly:

"I didn't sign up for this bullshit."

It was not the answer the man expected—but he merely smiled.

As if he had never needed an answer at all.

As if he already knew it.

The man hesitated, as though unsure what to say next.

Cyn noticed something unsettling.

The earring.

The inverted cross on the man's ear was moving on its own—reacting, as if responding to whispers only the man could hear.

Cyn stood silently for several minutes, watching as the man appeared to "consult" the inverted cross.

Eventually, as if responding to Cyn's growing impatience, the man's eyes refocused on him.

Sky-blue eyes met Cyn's crimson gaze.

The man clasped his hands together in a strange manner—as if shaking hands with himself—and approached Cyn with an expectant look, as though demanding much from him.

"Lord Sadist, you'll be part of a big project. Cheer up.

Someone like you would enjoy this—if we take your nature as a fundamental factor.

But first… hmm, one moment.

We need to sign a few documents."

Cyn stepped back twice as the man drew closer—especially because of his posture, and the way he held his hands.

That posture carried unpleasant connotations from Cyn's old world.

All he was missing was a big nose and—

The man continued advancing.

Cyn had nowhere left to retreat.

The door and corridor leading back to the Screaming Arena were gone—sealed, as if they had never existed.

He thought carefully about what the man had said.

An invitation.

But to what?

He had no idea.

"At least explain," Cyn demanded.

At the same time, his eyes changed instinctively.

Though he felt nothing physically, darkness overtook them, and the crimson vanished. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

"Where should I even begin?" the man replied casually while approaching.

"There's nothing to explain.

You've been enlightened.

That's all you need to know—for now."

Cyn knew the man had no intention of giving him a direct answer.

Still, he pressed on.

"And what about that poster earlier?"

Only a few feet separated them now.

With a light, playful laugh, the man replied:

"Oh, that trick?

I just wanted to impress you—leave a strong impression.

That old hag says it's the best way to make people remember you."

"So?"

"Is my face carved into your memory now?"

Cyn didn't realize it—but in a fraction of a second, the distance between them vanished.

He lost his balance and fell forward—

—and the man caught him.

It looked exactly like a princess catch.

Cyn was stunned.

"Hah—?! What just happened?!"

Golden strands of the man's hair brushed against Cyn's face.

He was incredibly close—smiling, as if about to kiss him.

But instead, his lips moved only to speak:

"So?

Do you remember me now?"

Cyn's face showed conflicting expressions.

Was he being assaulted?

What made it worse—he couldn't move.

It felt as if he were glued to the man's arms, trapped in his embrace.

The man raised an eyebrow, silently conveying a message:

Enjoying my arms?

Cyn cursed internally—but did not panic.

He stared straight into the man's eyes.

It was as though a black abyss collided with an endless sky.

The man exclaimed in surprise:

"Hah!

You're quite handsome.

Is that face a mask—to distract from the things you commit?"

Cyn tried to speak.

He couldn't.

That realization shocked him.

He couldn't move.

Now he couldn't speak either.

He was no longer even a spectator—just a listener.

Deprived of the ability to express anything.

Freedom of speech, my ass…

The man continued:

"It's only a matter of time before your nature overcomes you.

Which will you face?

Your other self—or your current one?"

"You have many enemies, Lord Sadist.

I don't know if I can call you that yet—since you haven't earned the title."

He paused, then ran his fingers across Cyn's face, intrigued.

"Oh? Cold. Very cold.

Like a corpse—as if you hadn't used your Scar just moments ago."

"But never mind that."

He leaned closer.

"So tell me—how do you plan to face your enemies with this face?"

"Trust me.

You'll need multiple faces—

alongside your other self."

Cyn didn't understand what he meant, yet he knew the words carried meaning despite their apparent chaos.

How am I even supposed to answer that? At least let me—

His thoughts were interrupted by the man's voice, now tinged with delight:

"Ah—actually, it just so happens I have something that might help you with that."

Sudden pain exploded in Cyn's left ear.

Violent vibrations shot into his head.

Half his skull throbbed.

Gah—!

Even his scream would not come out.

It was as if his voice did not exist in this place.

The sensation was like a needle piercing through his left ear and into his head.

He felt on the verge of losing consciousness—

Yet even that escape was denied to him.