The Regressor’s Younger Brother’s Insanity

Aether silently followed the cultists through winding stone corridors, each step echoing like whispers of something terrible ahead. Eventually, they emerged into a massive underground colosseum.

And what Aether saw made his eyes widen in disbelief.

He stood among a silent crowd of spectators, all looking down at the circular arena below.

In the center of the field was a man, his body bound by five thick ropes. One rope was tied to each limb, and one to his head. All five ropes stretched outward in different directions, each fastened to a separate iron stand, placed like anchors across the arena. The man's body was pulled tight, trembling under pressure.

Then, a cultist stepped forward.

He walked up to a table placed near one of the stands. Next to it was a strange device with five buttons, each labeled:

Left Arm, Right Arm, Left Leg, Right Leg, and Head.

The cultist placed a stack of money on the table… and pressed the Right Arm button.

He then raised a blade and cut one of the ropes tied to one of the stands.

Aether watched in horror.

Suddenly, the man's left leg was yanked with brutal force, ripped clean off his body. Blood poured across the arena floor as the victim let out a gut-wrenching scream.

The whole arena burst into cheers and laughter.

While the cultist clenched his fists in frustration.

He had bet on the Right Arm, but the mechanism tore off the Left Leg instead. He lost.

Aether's face hardened with disgust. He quickly realized the cruel rules of the game.

Each gambler had to place a bet by choosing a body part and then cutting one of the five ropes. If the torn limb matched their guess, they won the prize money. If not, they lost their wager. The victim's pain, however, was certain...no matter the outcome.

It was a twisted game of chance. A spectacle of torment and screams.

Aether stood in silence, his gaze fixed on the arena below.

The victim's body was now missing a leg and an arm. Only his left arm, right leg, and head remained.

Another cultist stepped forward.Without hesitation he pressed righ leg, then he approached one of the stands and cut another rope.

SCHRRRIPKRAK!

Aether flinched as the man's head was suddenly ripped from his shoulders. Blood splattered across the sand. The body collapsed, lifeless.

The crowd erupted in a mix of cheers and envy. some celebrating, others cursing their bad luck.

Aether narrowed his eyes.

'No matter the bet, if the head was torn off, it was considered a win.'

The cultists didn't care about prizes. They came to watch the blood gush across the arena floor, to count the severed limbs scattered like discarded meat. Their eyes followed every twitch of a dying body, as if each drap of blood was more precious than any gold.

Then, something unexpected happened. A small figure was dragged into the arena.

Aether's breath caught in his throat. His eyes widened.

It was a little girl, no older than Ten.

She was dragged forward by a chain wrapped tightly around her neck. Her bare feet scraped against the solid ground, leaving faint smears of blood behind her. Her body trembled,

But she made no sound.No scream. No protest.

Because she couldn't.

Her limbs were rotting. Gangrene clung to her legs and fingers like mold devouring dead wood. Her skin cracked, blackened, split in places, looked like it would fall off with the slightest touch. The scent of infection and decay reached even the stands. Whip marks laced her back in a brutal tapestry, the wounds fresh, many still oozing.

She was so thin, it was a wonder she could breathe.

Her body was a portrait of suffering, bruises blooming like poison beneath the skin, deep cuts that had never been cleaned, let alone healed. Most of her fingernails were gone. Torn out by force. And her teeth almost all missing, as if someone had wanted to silence her completely, left only a few molars behind.

But then...

Aether's gaze fell to her eyes. Or what was left of them.

Her left eye was simply gone. A hollow socket where innocence had once lived. The right eye remained, barely glazed, blind, blinking slowly without focus. She couldn't see. Not anymore.

She wasn't screaming. She wasn't begging. She was already far beyond fear.

They had taken everything from her. Everything but the pain.

And now, these monsters were tying her up, just like the man before her. Rope to her wrists. Rope to her ankles. One to her skull. Pulled tight. Prepared for the game.

Seeing this cruel display unfold before his eyes, Aether hesitated.

His objective was clear, find a way out of this hellhole. No distractions. No saving anyone.

Just survive… and destroy those who wronged him.

But rescuing her would only bring him unnecessary trouble.

In truth, it might be better for her to die. The world was cruel, indifferent to mercy. And Aether? He wasn't a hero either.

Just as he turned his back on the thought of saving her, a cultist stepped forward and placed his bet.

He raised his blade, ready to sever the rope.

Just then, the girl trembled. Her lips moved as if to speak, but no sound came out.

Aether, well versed in mana, could still understand. He read her mouth shaping the words:

[Please… help me, Demon God.

My mother told me there's helping Gods who watches over us. She said if I prayed, They would hear my wish. But I've prayed so many times diligently and no answer came.]

[I'm terrified. I don't want them to tear me apart like they did my parents. I'm so scared. Please, Demon God, I'll do anything.]

[Or perhaps give me a painless death… please, just end this suffering..]

Interrupted by her words, Aether felt a strange wave of emotion. To see her in such a desperate state, calling out to false gods, only to be broken and now seeking aid from a demon, was heartbreaking.

She had lost faith in the Gods everyone revered as omnipotent and was turning to a demon for salvation. This stirred something deep within Aether.

Unable to contain himself any longer, he swiftly grabbed a sword from a nearby cultist.

In an instant, with lightning speed, he reached the girl and cut through all five ropes that bound her.

The crowd erupted. Swords were drawn immediately, aimed at Aether with deadly intent.

"Who is he?"

"Did one of us betray the cult?"

The crowd buzzed with chaos and suspicion.

From atop the platform, the man overseeing the ritual slammed his staff into the ground. "Who are you, bastard?" he barked, eyes scanning the masked faces.

Their organization was vast, and most of them kept their identities hidden, even from each other.

"I said, reveal your name this instant!" the man roared, his voice cracking with fury.

But Aether only smiled, calm and defiant. "Do you even have the qualifications to know?"

Before the man could respond. The girl, who had been unable to speak moments ago, murmured a single word, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Demon God..."

And with that, the entire hall fell silent.

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To be continued....