2.The Life of the Noble Slave

The Dragonior family was an ancient line with a legacy spanning a thousand years. Every head of the house had been the bravest and strongest of their era. And then there was me: Vivian Dragonior, the 13th head of the family, celebrating my birthday with nothing but heavy iron chains on my hands and feet.

Today is June 1st, 1507. A crimson moon hangs in the sky, and I watched it through the narrow slit of my dungeon—or rather, their dungeon. I lay there wondering what they truly planned for me, and what had become of my mother and sister. Fear gnawed at my stomach.

"Sigh... What was I thinking?" I whispered to the cold stone. "I was supposed to protect them. I want to..."

The sound of footsteps cut me off. I froze, staring at the heavy iron door. It creaked open, but for a moment, I saw no one.

"Who's there?" I demanded, my voice cracking.

There was no response. Just as I felt my heart begin to calm, a heavy metal object was tossed through the shadows, clattering against my feet. It was a slave collar. A man stepped into the torchlight.

"Do you like your birthday present, my Lord?" he sneered. "I had it specially made for you."

In the dim light, I recognized the voice immediately. It was the man who had first betrayed my father: Sir Mordred Vilethorn.

"You—" I started, but he cut me off with a snarl.

"My Lord, it is your birthday. You don't have to say a word. If you want something, just name it, and I'll have it ready. But... if you dare speak another word without permission, I will cut out your tongue like butter."

He lunged forward, grabbing my jaw with a gauntleted hand, trying to force his fingers into my mouth. Before he could do more, another voice echoed from the hall.

"We need him to be able to speak, Sir Knight. You cannot cut out his tongue."

Mordred immediately released me and dropped to one knee.

"Lord Roderick! Why have you come to such a filthy place? I can handle this boy easily."

Duke Roderick Blackwood stepped into the cell, his eyes gleaming with malice.

"You don't need to know why I'm here. Now, put that collar on his neck. I want to see what a Dragonior looks like when he's dressed like a dog."

I struggled, but with my broken arm and the chains, I was helpless. Mordred forced the cold iron collar around my throat and snapped it shut. The moment the lock clicked, Roderick burst into a manic laughter that echoed off the damp walls.

"Hahahaha! Did you see that, Wyatt? I have your son in a dog's collar!"

Rage surged through me—a heat so intense I thought I might catch fire. I tried to lung at him, but Roderick simply released his aura. The pressure was like a mountain collapsing on my chest. The aura triggered the enchantments in the collar; shockwaves of agony ripped through my nervous system. My body began to convulse, and the air left my lungs.

Roderick grabbed me by the hair, hoisting my head up so I had to look at him.

"You have a strong will, kid. That's the Dragonior blood for you," he whispered. "Do you know why I made you a slave? I've always wanted to break that will with my own hands. It's a pity your father died so early, but you will take his place. I will torture you until there is nothing left of you. Hahaha!"

The pain from the collar was so great that my vision blurred. Tears of blood began to leak from my eyes, staining my cheeks. Now, it wasn't just the moon—the whole world looked crimson.

After Roderick and Mordred left, Roderick's second son, Shou Blackwood, sauntered in.

"Aww... look how pitiful you are,"

Shou mocked, poking at my side with his boot.

"I can hardly stand to see you suffer. But you should know, this is only the beginning."

My hatred for the Blackwood name grew ten-fold, but I couldn't move an inch. Shou continued to yap, enjoying my silence.

"Did you know you're the first noble slave in the history of Eldoria? Welcome to the life of a slave, Mr. Dragonior."

They left me there on the cold floor. I didn't sleep that night. I spent the hours memorizing every face, every name, and every insult, carving them into my mind so I would never forget who I had to kill.

Suddenly, screams began to echo through the dungeon. They were distant, but so full of agony that my skin began to itch. Then, I heard heavy, thumping footsteps. When the door opened, the creature that entered was barely human.

He was massive, his body bloated with fat and muscle, scars covering half his face while the other half was a map of burn tissue. He looked like a demon crawled out of a hole. Saliva dripped from his jagged teeth as he roared.

"Yahahaha! Duke Roderick gave me a new toy to play with!"

Earlier that day, on June 2nd...

A secret meeting was held at the King's personal tea table. Present were all those who had conspired to destroy the Dragonior family.

"Duke Roderick, Count Judas, Count Brutus," King Mida S. Tyrannos said smoothly,

"I am pleased with your company and the work you have done."

Roderick smirked.

"It is my pleasure, Your Highness. It was an honor to complete the task you personally ordered."

The King stood up, his eyes turning cold.

"If I remember correctly, Roderick, I wanted you to bring me two things. I have yet to hear about them."

Roderick's smirk vanished. The atmosphere turned heavy.

"My King... I searched the entire Dragonior estate. I even forced Wyatt's personal butler to speak, but he knew nothing. I—"

"I don't need excuses," the King interrupted, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

"I want results. I don't care if you have to cut off that boy's limbs or torture him to death—I want those things by any means necessary."

Roderick bowed his head, sweating.

"Your Highness, do not worry. I will make the boy give up what you seek."

The King smiled, a look of pure, unchecked greed.

"Hahaha! That's what I wanted to hear. But remember... if a single word of this conversation leaves this room, I will have all your heads on the floor."

The King's killing intent was so overwhelming that the Duke and the Counts trembled, unable to even meet his gaze. They had one mission: find the "two things."

Back in the dungeon, the Beast approached me, licking his lips.

"Oye, kido... what do you taste like? I want to eat you alive!"

I was terrified. I realized the screams from earlier had come from his victims.

"What... what do you want?"

I stammered.

Judas Slytherin entered the cell, followed by a cloaked figure.

"He doesn't want anything. We want something from you. Don't worry, it's not your life... yet. You're worth more to us alive."

I vowed right then that whatever they wanted, I would never give it to them.

"Start the show," Judas ordered the Beast. "We have a special guest."

The cloaked figure stepped forward and spoke with a familiar, melodic voice.

"Oh, Judas, you flatter me. I'm not nearly as special as our precious little toy, Vivian."

My heart stopped. I knew that voice. It belonged to Roseliane, my own caretaker—the woman I had trusted most in the world after my mother.

"Roseliane?" I gasped. "Why are you with these bastards? Were you with them all along?"

She leaned down, her eyes cold.

"Oh, my Lord! You're too smart for your own good. Is that the Dragonior blood talking?"

At Judas's signal, the Beast moved. He grabbed me by the hair and slammed my head into the stone floor. He lifted me up and smashed me against the wall again and again until I was a broken, bloody mess. The Beast began to lick my blood off the floor.

Judas looked on with disgust.

"Enough of that, you dog. I want to hear him scream, just like his butler did."

"What... what did you do to Butler Jose?"

I wheezed through the pain. Jose had been like a second father to me.

The Beast laughed, his mouth stained with my blood.

"Lisk... what do you think? Didn't you hear those screams earlier? Hnnn..."

The world turned cold. Jose had been with my mother and sister. If they had him... where were they?

Judas sighed. "Don't think too much, kid. What happened to him is about to happen to you."

The Beast grabbed my chains and began dragging me down the hall.

"Time to change your room, Mr. Noble..."

He dragged me into a chamber that looked like a nightmare. Racks, iron maidens, boiling vats of lead, and jagged blades lined the walls. The Beast hoisted my chains and hung me from the ceiling, letting me dangle over the blood-stained floor.

He leaned in close, his breath smelling of rot.

"Hooo... Welcome to my paradise, Mr. Noble."

 TO BE CONTINUED

Upcoming:

[The Paradise of the Beast]

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