"Huh?"

Rafas stared blankly at where his right hand had vanished. Thick blood gushed like a spring from the pale white broken bones, splattering wildly. Shreds of flesh and sinew dangled messily.

Blood sprayed all over him. Dazzling droplets dyed his fine robes crimson.

A cold, desolate sensation spread from his wrist stump. It was followed by excruciating pain.

"Aaaahhhhh! My hand!! My hand!!!" The agony shot deep into his brain, stabbing his nerves. Rafas desperately clutched the stump, hoping to ease it.

But the moment his palm touched the wound, sharper pain nearly knocked him out.

His obese body rolled clumsily on the ground like a kicked-over wine barrel. Thick blood smeared the floor with his movements. Urine leaked from his lower body, its stench mixing with blood to choke the air.

"Magician Lord! Save me!!! Aaahhh!! My hand’s gone!!!" Rafas sobbed and wailed, rolling on the ground as he stared at the old man before him.

What was this old bastard spacing out about? Where was he even looking? His hand was severed! The mage should stop the bleeding first!

Bastard! Bastard! Bastard! Who the hell had cut off his—

"Gods... I’m not dreaming, am I..." The old man in black robes stared with bloodshot eyes at the black mist ahead. The ferocity on his face vanished instantly, replaced by shock and fanatical worship.

This overwhelming death aura. This darkness that could drag souls into the abyss. He’d spent his life chasing death’s master, studying death auras and demonic mists. At his age, he’d given up hope—expecting to die with regret.

But now he saw an existence above death itself. His faith. If only he could glimpse its face...

"My Lord above... the master I’ve awaited... please reveal your—"

Pitch-black mist drifted forward. A serpent formed from the fog, its crimson pupils glaring.

The old man got no reply. Only gaping jaws and gleaming fangs.

His upper body crushed in one bite. Blood splattered, dyeing the floor red.

The black serpent vanished after swallowing him, as if it never existed.

"Uwaaahhh!!!" Chunks of organs splattered onto Rafas’s twisted face.

Rafas froze, paralyzed by terror. He’d never seen such horror. Was this a joke? The all-powerful Magician Lord eaten by a serpent? What the hell was happening? Was he dreaming?

In his panic, he forgot his hand’s pain. Pale-faced, he babbled at the old man’s bleeding lower half.

"Th-this is..." Hank was stunned too. That powerful black mage devoured instantly? Where did the serpent go? Who had such terrifying power—

Crack!

Before Hank could think, the iron lock and wooden frame binding his wrists crumbled into particles, vanishing.

"What??" Freedom came just as pitch-black mist, thick with death aura, crept to his feet.

Instantly, Hank lost body control. He stood rigid as stone, unable to move.

He dared not speak. Not step. Not even glance back at the unknown creature.

His brain screamed warnings. Bone-deep fear choked him; he couldn’t breathe.

This evil wasn’t human. The being in the mist was no human.

"Wh-what are you..." Rafas paled as black fog surged toward him. A humanoid shape flickered within it.

Deep red light swirled around the creature. A demon-like helmet emerged from shadows.

Not human. Only human-shaped. A death-born monster.

He stared wide-eyed. A figure clad in black heavy armor, wrapped in death aura, stepped from the mist.

Fierce horns jutted from its helmet. An eerie red glow flickered in the visor slit.

Heavy boots clanged on the ground. Each step made Rafas’s heart clench tighter.

"D-don’t kill me... I’ll give you anything..."

"I can be your dog, sir. I have money, power, women."

"Spare my life. I’ll give you everything..."

Like a breeze brushing his abdomen.

Rafas looked down blankly. A tiny slit had opened in his clothes.

"Huh?" The cut visibly widened.

Thin blood streams shot out like a mini shower, spraying.

"Ah, no! Stop! Don’t widen! Stop!!"

"I beg you! No!! Stop!! I don’t want to die!!!"

Rafas frantically covered the gash with his left hand, trying to stem the flow.

But it was futile. A large wound ripped open on his belly. Fat and blood oozed out together.

Excruciating pain made him scream. He wailed hoarsely but clutched his abdomen tight.

He knew this torture method well—it was his favorite. He never dreamed he’d become someone’s plaything, especially with his own technique...

Crack!

A crisp sound echoed on the blood-soaked ground.

Rafas’s remaining left hand was severed. His abdominal gash ripped open to its maximum...