John walked back down the twenty stairs, his boots echoing on the black marble, the water beneath the floor rippling softly with each step. The throne room felt colder now, emptier, with only the bodies of the two dead rapists and the sound of his own breathing. He stopped in front of Zedrik and Alrick, looking down at their headless corpses with a mixture of disgust and satisfaction.
"System," John said, cracking his knuckles.
"Conjure up some chains. Heavy ones. And tie these two up. Wrists, ankles, the works. I don't want them going anywhere when they wake up."
You're really going to revive them? After everything they did?
"Yep. Death is too easy. Too quick. They need to suffer first. And then maybe I'll kill them. Or maybe I'll keep them alive forever. I haven't decided yet."
You're a special kind of crazy, you know that?
"I've been told."
A flash of blue light, and thick iron chains materialized around the two corpses. The chains wrapped around their wrists, their ankles, their chests, securing them to the floor with heavy stakes that drove themselves into the marble. The metal was dark, almost black, and it gleamed under the torchlight like it was hungry for something.
John crouched down beside Zedrik's head, picked it up by the hair, and placed it back on the neck. The flesh knit itself together as he held it, the bone fusing, the skin sealing. He did the same for Alrick, positioning the severed head carefully, making sure it was facing forward.
"Revive them," John said.
Fine. But I'm warning you, they're going to be loud.
Another pulse of blue light, and the two men gasped back to life.
Zedrik's eyes snapped open first, wide and panicked. He jerked against the chains, the metal clanking loudly, his body twisting as he tried to sit up. His red hair was matted with dried blood, his handsome face pale and sweaty. Alrick woke up a moment later, his scarred features contorting into a snarl, his fingers clawing at the floor like he was trying to dig his way through the marble.
"Where the hell am I?!" Zedrik shouted, his voice echoing off the walls.
"What is this place?! Who are you?!"
Alrick's eyes darted around the throne room, taking in the pillars, the water, the throne. His gaze landed on John, and his snarl
deepened.
"You. The goblin. From the gala. What did you do to us?!"
John just stood there, arms crossed, watching them struggle. He didn't say anything. He wanted to hear what they had to say first. Wanted to see how deep their arrogance ran.
"You'll regret this!" Zedrik spat, yanking at his chains.
"Do you have any idea who I am?! I'm Sir Zedrik of House Thorn! I have friends in high places! The king himself has dined at my table! When I get out of these chains, I'll have you drawn and quartered! I'll have your head mounted on a pike above the city gates! I'll feed your entrails to the dogs!"
Alrick laughed, a cold, dead sound.
"You think chains can hold us? You think this little dungeon scares us? We've survived worse. We've done worse. I'll carve out your eyes and wear them as rings. I'll skin you alive and wear your hide as a coat. I'll fuck your corpse and then feed the remains to the pigs. There are no pigs here? I'll find some. I'll import them if I have to."
Zedrik nodded vigorously, his green eyes blazing with fury.
"And that's just the beginning! My family will hunt you to the ends of the earth! They'll pay bounty hunters, assassins, whole armies if they have to! You'll never know a moment's peace! Every shadow will hide a knife! Every stranger will be a killer! You'll be looking over your shoulder for the rest of your miserable, pathetic life!"
Alrick grinned, his scarred face twisting into something grotesque.
"Assuming you have a life left after we're done with you. I'm going to enjoy breaking you. Slowly. Piece by piece. I'll start with your fingers, then your toes, then your tongue. By the time I'm finished, you'll be begging me to kill you. And I won't. I'll just keep going. Forever."
John had heard enough.
He closed his eyes and let his body shift. The tall, muscular husk form melted away, replaced by the chud. Five-foot-eight. Soft and doughy. Greasy black hair. Taped glasses. The overlord clothes hung off him like a tent, the sleeves drooping past his fingers, the coat pooling on the floor. He looked ridiculous. He looked pathetic. He looked exactly like the person Zedrik and Alrick had tormented all those weeks ago.
John opened his eyes and looked at the two men.
"Do you remember me?"
Zedrik stared at him for a long moment, his brow furrowed. Then his face smoothed out, and he shook his head.
"Never seen you in my entire life. You're nobody. A nobody in a nobody's body. I don't know you. I've never known you. Now let me go before I—"
John slapped him.
The sound cracked through the throne room like a whip, sharp and sudden. Zedrik's head snapped to the side, his cheek reddening, a thin trickle of blood dripping from his split lip. He turned back slowly, his eyes wide with shock.
"Don't lie to me," John said, his voice calm.
"I know you remember. The servant. The one who watched you massacre an entire village because the women weren't hot enough for you. Remember now?"
Zedrik's jaw tightened. His eyes flickered with recognition, and then with something else. Fear? No. Not fear. Just annoyance. Like he was being bothered by something insignificant.
"Fine," Zedrik muttered. "I remember you. You were that pathetic half-foreign freak who couldn't even kneel properly. What of it? What problem do you have with us? We only fucked the villagers. It's not like we raped you or something."
John stared at him. The cognitive dissonance was staggering.
Zedrik genuinely didn't seem to understand what he'd done wrong.
In his mind, the villagers were nothing. Livestock. Objects to be used and discarded. And John?
John was just another object, one that had gotten in the way.
"We didn't touch you," Zedrik continued, his voice gaining confidence. "We didn't beat you. We didn't even know your name. So why this? Why the chains? Why the heads? What did we ever do to you?"
Alrick nodded, his scarred face twisted in confusion. "Yeah. What's your angle here? You want money? We have money. You want land? We have land. You want women? We can get you women. Just name your price and we'll pay it. No need for all this... drama."
John pinched the bridge of his nose, pushing up his taped glasses.
"This isn't about what you did to me. I don't care what you did to me. You want to know what this is about? This is about the villagers you killed. The ones you massacred because you thought it would be funny. The ones you burned and butchered and left to rot in the streets."
Zedrik blinked. "The villagers? You're doing all this for a bunch of peasants?"
"They were people," John said.
"They had lives. Families. Dreams. And you took all of that away because you were bored."
Alrick started laughing. It was a low, rattling sound, like stones grinding together.
"Oh, I see. I see what this is. You're jealous. That's it, isn't it? You're jealous that we got to have fun and you didn't. You're jealous that we got to fuck those dying sluts while you were stuck watching like a good little dog."
John's jaw tightened, but he didn't interrupt.
"You think you're some kind of hero now?" Alrick continued, his voice dripping with mockery.
"Some kind of avenger? Those sluts died for nothing. They died because they were weak. Because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. They don't need to be avenged. They don't deserve to be avenged. They were nothing. Less than nothing. And you're out here pretending like they mattered? Like any of this matters?"
Zedrik joined in, his laughter harsh and sharp. "He's right, you know. You're just one of those fuckers who thinks they're a knight in shining armor because they didn't get to enjoy the crimes. You're not a hero. You're not a savior. You're just a jealous little freak who couldn't get any, so now he's taking it out on the people who could."
Alrick leaned forward as much as his chains would allow, his scarred face inches from John's. "Admit it. You wanted to be us. You wanted to have the power, the women, the freedom to do whatever you wanted. But you couldn't. Because you're weak. Because you're ugly. Because you're nobody. And now you're trying to make yourself feel better by pretending you have morals. It's pathetic. It's laughable. You're laughable."
Alrick threw his head back and laughed, a full, hearty laugh that echoed through the throne room. Zedrik joined in, their voices mingling in a chorus of mockery and contempt.
John started laughing too.
It was soft at first, just a chuckle, but it grew louder and louder until it filled the room, drowning out their laughter. Alrick's laugh faltered. He stopped, his scarred face contorting with confusion.
Zedrik fell silent a moment later, his green eyes narrowing.
"What are you laughing at?" Alrick demanded. "What's wrong with you?"
John's laughter didn't stop. It grew wilder, unhinged, the laughter of a man who had seen too much and cared too little. His yellow eyes, still visible behind the taped glasses, gleamed with something that might have been madness
.
"You're just making me feel better," John said between laughs, "about what I'm about to do."
Alrick's face went pale. Zedrik started pulling at his chains again, harder this time, panic creeping into his movements.
"What are you going to do?" Zedrik asked, his voice cracking.
John stopped laughing. He straightened up, the overlord coat pooling around his chud feet, and smiled. It was not a nice smile.
"You'll see," John said. "You'll see."