Chapter 291: Torment (1/2)

Aina gently touched the scars on her face and winced. They felt exceptionally tender as though they had just healed, but only she knew that she had had these scars for an entire 18 years of her life.

Her main reliance were these very scars on her face.

'These scars you've given me, not only will I not let them shame me, I will use them in a way you could never have calculated.'

A fiery rage lit Aina's amber eyes. In that moment, they flickered like golden flames.

Without hesitation, she poured the entire vial contents down her throat.

BANG!

Aina's clothes were blasted to ash. However, there was no gorgeous sight to behold. What should have been delicate, somewhat tanned skin, was nowhere to be seen.

Along with her clothes, Aina's skin had been torn asunder. A rain of her own blood and flesh coated the walls of the cave as though a massacre had taken place. All that was left were the fine fibers of her bloody muscles. In fact, even some of her skeleton shone through regions where even her deep tissue was broken.

She looked like a human that had been skinned alive. Yet, somehow, the scars on her face still remained prominent. They were so deep that they dug into the tissue of her face and latched onto her skull. Even in this situation, they pulsed like grotesque worms, not letting go even as their host was on the verge of death.

However, if one looked closely, it seemed that Aina was still in a state of meditation. She no longer had eyelids to close her eyes, but, her pupils seemed to have glazed over.

Anyone sane would believe that she was dead… That is, until one noticed a steadily beating piece of flesh. It was beneath two large mounds of yellow fat flowing with blood, beneath a  ribcage bathed in crimson, and between two barely perceptibly moving lungs…

Her heart. It continued to beat with a rhythmic consistency.

As time passed, its beating slowed. It seemed that Aina might die at any time, however… though the rhythm seemed to slow, it became deeper and more resounding. Soon, it felt as though the whole underground space was trembling beneath its might.

…

At that moment, in a certain region of Earth, there was a hidden estate. It seemed completely separate from Earth, as though it was a heaven gracing the land of mortals.

There were vast stretches of exotic, alien plants, plains were graced by odd creatures of mythology, and the forests held an irresistable scent to them that seemed to pull one into a trance.

At the center of this land, there was a mansion that hung in the skies. From its base, thick, heavy chains hung. From a distance, it almost seemed as though these chains were the pillars that held this mansion up. If it wasn't for their slight swaying every so often, any ignorant observer would conclude this as well…

Within this mansion, in a room hidden from the eyes of even most of those worthy of stepping foot onto its floors, there was an alter.

Though it was an alter, it didn't seem to be worshipping anything. Rather, it seemed to be the exact opposite.

A stone tablet of sort sat with names crossed out, as though being banished from a level of respect they had once deserved, or maybe never deserved to begin with.

There were only two names on this list. Both of them seemed to have a magic aura wrapped around them. However, this aura was poison, sinister and dark…

Compared to the awe inspiring display of the Morales family ancestral grounds, this place was several levels less grand and also lacked any celebratory mood.

At that moment, an emanciated old man looked up with dull eyes. He sat within this dark room as a perpetual overseer, but his position didn't seem to be very high. Whether it was his long black robes or the rattling of chains beneath them, he seemed more like a slave than an elder.

His eyes were a milky white. He seemed completely blind, yet also seemed to sense something. However, whatever that something was made him sigh.

Before he could do much of anything, the pulsing lights on one of the names became more intense. The aura it exuded became several levels more vindictive and savage, exuding an endless dark energy.

A commotion was raised throughout the mansion and soon news was spread to all corners.

Within a room of that mansion, a beautiful middle aged woman sat before a mirror, allowing a petite maid to apply light makeup onto her delicate features. If it wasn't for the slight wrinkles toward the side of her eyes, it would have been impossible to tell this woman's age.

Not long later, a messenger quickly entered the room and left just as quickly.

Upon hearing the message, the beautiful middle aged woman snickered.

”That whore's daughter is still trying? How many is that already in the last year?”

”38, Madame.” The petite maid replied softly.