Roy lifted a hand with lazy indifference. "That concludes the demonstration. I grow tired of the smell of burning garbage."
Grant immediately dropped the temperature. The air retained a heavy, sweltering warmth, but the active killing heat vanished. Roy stood up, and the marble throne beneath him cracked sharply down the center, utterly unable to withstand the shift in his mana's terrifying weight. He walked slowly forward, his eyes fixing on the ruined captive like a predator examining a broken toy.
"Too exhausted to speak?" Roy observed, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "Too damaged? You require medical attention before I can properly dismantle your pride." Roy glanced sideways, his head perfectly still. "Andri. Bring him back. Only halfway. I want him conscious enough to feel the fear, but not enough to feel hope."
Andri stepped forward, her movements tight and visibly uncomfortable. She raised her hands, calling upon the earth to form the Womb Tomb. The protective shell encased the charred general, sealing him away to initiate the mending process. She carefully regulated the output, halting the restoration long before he reached full health. The earthen shell crumbled away, dumping the monster back onto the asphalt. He emerged violently shaking and coughing, his wide eyes flooded with the sickening clarity that always follows extreme trauma.
JFK stepped in the moment the general twitched. The Super Elite Presidroid casually flicked a fresh, glowing seal onto the monster's chest, binding him in a box once again.
The general coughed hard, the sound morphing into a wet, broken laugh. "What did you do to me," he spat at the floor.
Roy stretched his smile wider. "Were you listening? I am a being of extraordinary mercy," he boasted. "What manner of man do you assume I am?"
Roy dropped the theatrical humor, ripping the false warmth from his face in a single, terrifying instant. Dense, suffocating mana rolled off his shoulders in visible, crushing waves. The sheer density of his power forced Warrex and Lynder to avert their eyes, their instincts screaming at them to look away from a predator. Takara, Orin, Rava, and Andri froze in place, struck by a visceral, icy dread pooling deep in their stomachs.
Floating just a few feet away, Orden watched the display with wide, unblinking eyes. The Primordial boy dangled his legs in the air, his chaotic aura completely undisturbed by the pressure. Zehrina moved smoothly, but lacked her usual quick response time. She spread an invisible layer of Navi'N dust over the weaker crew members, forming a breathable shield that instantly cut off the crushing weight of Roy's aura.
"Sorry, guys," Zehrina whispered.
Roy took one more step forward. The fractured throne behind him exploded into a shower of black marble rubble. He stared down at the trembling general, projecting the absolute authority of a god examining a worthless insect.
"I am the Thunder Rider," Roy declared, his voice low, absolute, and utterly terrifying. "The new god of this dungeon. Of your nation. Of you."
Twisting his charred face into a rigid mask of defiance, the general refused to cower before the crushing weight of Roy's aura. Rather than spitting a crude insult, the monster delivered a formal, highly controlled threat, weaving his words into a deliberate promise that his captors failed to comprehend the apocalyptic scale of the nation they had just provoked.
Roy did not even allow him to finish the sentence. Tilting his head a fraction of an inch toward the towering Presidroid, he let his tone drop into something terrifyingly conversational. "Grant, I do not believe that sounded like an answer to my question."
"No, Captain," Grant agreed, his mechanical voice carrying the grim finality of a falling gavel. "It did not."
Fixing his cold gaze back onto the ruined captive, Roy offered the simplest of commands. "Burn him again."
Grant reformed the shimmering containment box without a second of hesitation. He invoked Unconditional Surrender, plunging the general back into the agonizing, drafting heat of the magical furnace. The screams started faster this time, echoing through the sovereign pillars as the monster's dignity boiled away inside the blistering cage.
When Roy finally lifted his hand to signal the end of the second session, the silence that followed felt heavy and exhausted. Calling for Andri, Roy noticed an immediate shift in the young healer's demeanor. She did not disobey, but her steps dragged, her reluctance entirely visible as she summoned the earthen shell of the Womb Tomb. Healing a hostile target specifically so he could be tortured again was taking a quiet, undeniable toll on her, and Roy registered the hesitation before she pulled the monster back from the brink of death.
Leaving the general dumped on the asphalt in a trembling, coughing heap, Andri stepped away while JFK casually reapplied the heavy legal seals to the creature's chest.
Leaning forward over the shattered remains of his black marble throne, Roy pressed the issue. "How about now, General? Do you care to test my patience a third time?"
A flicker of genuine hesitation crossed the monster's eyes before he forcefully slammed his pride back into place. "You will get nothing," the general rasped.
Grant reached for the invisible dials of his containment frame, fully prepared to bake the captive for a third round, but Roy held up a single hand to halt the execution. Allowing the heavy, suffocating mana to recede, Roy shifted his voice back into the grandiose, mocking cadence of his theatrical persona. Instead of addressing the prisoner, he projected the sentiment to the entire room.
"You know what? I think we are above this," Roy announced, waving his hand as if the violence had suddenly become distasteful.
Catching the rhythm of the performance, Grant remained physically intimidating while adopting a tone of utter confusion. "You certainly are, Captain. Myself, though, I am not entirely sure that I am."
Standing near the back of the group, Warrex crossed his massive arms and delivered his contribution with deadpan, absolute sincerity. "Neither am I. I say we eat him."
Roy's composure betrayed him for a fraction of a second. He snapped his head sideways, pretending to study the floating scrolls overhead to hide the grin fighting its way onto his face.
Misreading the shift in the room entirely, the general seized what he believed to be a tactical victory. "Then you have lost your leverage," the monster spat from the floor. "You have no reason to expect anything from me anymore."
The hidden smile vanished from Roy's face. Snapping his attention back to the captive, his expression hardened into pure malice. "I ended one method," Roy clarified, his voice dropping several degrees. "Not the interrogation."
He called the next interrogator like a blade sliding from a sheath. "Eisenhower."
Eisenhower stepped into the light with rigid military bearing and delivered a crisp salute.
Roy gestured with feigned grace toward the broken captive. "Don't you agree our guest seems a bit stagnant? He could use some exercise."
Accepting the absurd suggestion as standard protocol, Eisenhower gave a solemn nod. "Maintaining peak physical condition is mandatory for any soldier. Even generals."
Turning his attention toward his apprentices, Roy locked eyes with the young administrator. "Rava. Link yourself, Takara, and the general. I would hate for him to keep too much of his speed and stamina."
Rava nodded grimly, gripping his mage staff, while Takara braced herself for the incoming magical tether. Raising his hand, Rava cast Administrator to the Three Hats. The general's overwhelming, monstrous strength shattered, his massive stamina violently slashed into thirds and dispersed across the network until he was reduced to a fraction of his former might.
Responding to the new parameters, Eisenhower swept his hand across the ground. Unlike the pristine highway he had summoned earlier, this newly manifested asphalt road emerged jagged and punishing. Spiked gravel and uneven ridges textured the loop, creating a surface designed entirely for maximum misery.
Roy gestured toward the ancient elven guildmaster. "Lynder, a chain, if you will."
"Gladly," Lynder obliged. A thick, heavy chain materialized continuously from his open palm, wrapping itself several times around the general's armored waist before Lynder whipped the free end through the air.
The heavy iron links struck the earth, clattering just out of Roy's reach. In a single fluid motion, Zehrina flicked her wrist, directing an unseen gust of black Navi'N dust to nudge the chain the final few feet until it settled firmly in Eisenhower's grasp. Roy gave Zehrina a quiet, appreciative nod, which she acknowledged with absolute silence.
Gripping the chain tightly, Eisenhower shot the general a bright, entirely unnerving smile. "Step on up," the Presidroid ordered cheerfully. "It is time for you to keep pace."
Upon taking the jagged road, Eisenhower surrendered to the magical asphalt's momentum. He began to skate in a vast circle, accelerating steadily as the heavy iron chain violently pulled the general in his wake. The captive initially tumbled, skidding along the abrasive surface and battering against the jagged rocks, until pure survival instinct drove him to scramble up and keep pace.
Every time the monster attempted to surge forward and break the tension, his body failed him. He reacted with frantic confusion to his own sudden weakness, his mind struggling to process the mathematical reality of Rava's link before the realization fueled a useless spike of anger. Digging his heels into the road, he tried to pull back and resist the relentless drag. Ultimately, it did not matter. Eisenhower's supernatural momentum on the highway easily overpowered the drastically weakened captive.
Collapsing onto the asphalt once again, the desperate general lunged forward and clamped his jaws around the magical chain in a frantic attempt to bite through the links.
Lynder burst into a harsh, echoing laugh. "You actually think I am stupid enough to conjure a chain you could bite through," the ancient elf scoffed, visibly offended by the attempt. "I am insulted. I vote we go back to burning him."
Patting the guildmaster on the shoulder, Roy maintained his persona for the hovering camera drones. "Oh, Guildmaster," Roy purred, his voice rich and entirely amused. "Your bloodlust is truly a delight to hear." He directed his gaze back to the captive, watching the monster scramble to his feet just to avoid being dragged on his face. "But surely a big strong monster general would never sell out his grand kingdom so quickly."
Hovering near the vaulted ceiling of the Convention, Orden crossed his small arms and let out a loud, theatrical boo, clearly disappointed by the sudden lack of immolation.
Roy signaled the drones to cut the recording feed before gesturing for the ancient observer to float down. "What's wrong?" Roy asked.
Pouting, Orden kicked his legs in the empty air. "I was enjoying the burning. Now I am bored."
Roy let out a long sigh. "Stop being scary. We are preparing to go to war with an entire monster nation. Try to be excited about that."
Orden remained entirely unimpressed. "Still bored."
Considering the situation for a brief moment, Roy offered a genuine compromise. "I doubt your dad would mind if you went outside and played with a few monsters," Roy suggested, raising his voice to make it sound like a passing joke, despite meaning every word of it. "Go ahead, assuming he does not object."
Turning his face toward the empty air, Orden waited as if requesting permission from an invisible, cosmic authority standing right beside him. After receiving absolutely no response, a wide, terrifying smile broke across his face.
"That's a yes!" Orden chirped.
Slipping through the sovereign boundaries of the Convention, the entity vanished into the dark expanse of the subterranean floor like a child skipping out to play in a graveyard.