Sai's consciousness drifted somewhere between pain and emptiness. He didn't know how much time had passed: hours, days, weeks? Time flowed differently here, stretching, breaking, disappearing. He could no longer feel his body—only the cold and the periodic flashes of agony that the demons dutifully returned to him, ensuring he wouldn't be lost to oblivion.
He hung from the chains like a broken doll. His chest rose faintly, his breathing heavy and ragged. His eyes wouldn't focus. Everything around him was just shadows, voices, footsteps, the clang of metal. His thoughts scattered like ash.
He wished he could lose consciousness for good, but the demons wouldn't allow it.
Every second, they reminded him he was alive, that pain was his only companion.
"You understand, don't you," whispered the demoness Tanyusha, forcing his head up by his hair, "that if you tell us everything we need, we'll stop."
He didn't answer. Not because he was strong. But because his tongue simply wouldn't move.
She smirked.
"Silly boy. We'll squeeze everything out of you anyway… even if we have to wring out your soul."
She snapped her fingers.
Sai heard footsteps. Heavy. Resonant. Different from the other demons. The air in the dungeon grew dense, heavy, pressing down on his chest. Even the chains rang with tension, as if sensing the approach of something ancient, powerful.
The demonesses instantly straightened up and bowed their heads. Even those who had been laughing and torturing Sai just a minute ago now stood trembling.
A silhouette emerged from the darkness.
Tall. Black. Armor like charred metal, adorned with carved lines, as if scratched by claws. His face was hidden by a mask resembling a skull, but with horns curving backward. An aura of power emanated from the figure, pressing down like a mountain of rock.
One of the 172 Generals of the Demon Army.
"Lord Vargreil," Tanyusha whispered, sinking to her knees. "We have gathered all the data, but… he is strange. His body… his resistance…"
The General raised a hand, silencing her.
Then he approached Sai.
The silence was so thick that only Sai's wheezing was audible.
Vargreil studied him in silence. For a long time. As if looking not at his body, but through it. Through the blood, bones, memory, soul.
Then he spoke slowly:
"How long… has it been since I've seen one like this."
His voice was low, resonant, like a subterranean stone speaking to itself.
He leaned closer, and for a moment, Sai saw the reflection of his own eyes in the mask—white, empty, but with a glint that could not belong to an ordinary human.
"You… remind me of the Shadow," said the General. "Even the scent. Even the emptiness inside. It is… unpleasantly familiar."
The demonesses shuddered. Tanyusha covered her mouth with her hand, as if afraid to even hear this.
Sai didn't understand the words. But he heard the tone.
And somewhere deep in his brain, something seemed to respond.
Vargreil reached out and touched Sai's chest. A light motion. But it felt like a knife passing through his bones. Sai arched his back, but the chains held him.
The General continued calmly:
"Your body was human. Once. But you are no longer human."
He spoke not threateningly, but… like a scientist describing a research subject.
"You lack the scent of a human. The trace of a human soul. The energy structure of a human. But there is… an echo of their pain. And… something else. Something we should have destroyed long ago."
He took a step back and added, not hiding his disgust:
"You… are a remnant of an ancient sin."
Sai tried to speak, but only a rasp came from his throat.
"Where… am I?" he managed to force out.
The General tilted his head, as if surprised he was still capable of speech.
"You are in a territory that humans once called… Great Britain.
But humans lost the right to name their lands long ago."
He turned, pointing to a map drawn on the wall in blood and charcoal.
A huge island, split into dozens of black zones.
"Now it is called Riftland.
The Island of Severed Reality. The Heart of the Second Circle of the Demon Territory."
Tanyusha added:
"We gather humans here for analysis. To understand how you are trained, how you fight, how you think. To… purchase your mind."
Sai lifted his gaze. Everything was swimming. But he understood the main point:
He was in a place where no help would come.
Where demons ruled as if at home.
Where humans were meat, material, a resource.
Vargreil approached again.
"We tried. We broke. We studied. But… you do not reveal yourself. It is irritating."
He placed a hand on Sai's shoulder.
The weight was like a mountain settling on his bone.
"But the most interesting thing…" the General leaned closer, "…is that you are alive. You should have died. Not once. Not ten times. A hundred times. But you did not die."
He tapped a finger on Sai's chest.
The metal of his armor rang like a funeral bell.
"You remind me of an ancient being," Vargreil whispered. "A vile one.
A being that stood against us thousands of years ago.
The Shadow. The King of the Abyss. The cursed lord we could not kill."
The demonesses retreated.
Vargreil straightened up.
"But you… are a weak copy. Merely a beginning. A seed. A larva of the shadow's will."
He fell silent.
Then he abruptly grabbed Sai by the head and jerked him up so high that the chains creaked taut.
"And you know what?"
His voice became cold as steel.
"We will find out what you are. Even if we have to take you apart piece by piece."
He released Sai's head, and Sai collapsed backward, hanging from the chains.
There was no strength left: not to scream, not to fight, not even to think.
But deep within his chest—where a human heart once beat—a small, dark impulse flared.
Alien. Icy.
But his.
And Vargreil saw it.
"Yes…" the General exhaled. "That is exactly what I was waiting for."
He turned to the demonesses:
"Increase the dosages. Remove the skin. Break the ribs. Let's see… how soon he awakens."