Midas panted heavily as he gave a wary glance towards the man that was bound in chains. As the silver burned into his flesh, creating a dozen miniature clouds of smoke, the Stranger seemed to grow weaker.
At the very least, he seemed unable to break the chains that bound him despite the supernatural strength he had shown previously. Thus he was helpless as he hung on the side of the shuddering metal crate, wincing at every movement of it as he could feel the beast within constantly knocking against the spike that was pinning him there.
Since that spike was also through his guts, he could feel every tiny movement, and none of these movements were tiny. Combined with the chains sizzling into his flesh, both inside and out, his existence had quickly turned to absolute torture. But the Stranger was alone in thinking that he did not deserve it.
