The Knight’s chamber was like a tomb with walls of smooth and gray stone. The room was barren save for a table and two metal chairs.

  Atop the table sat an Angufluxivator beside Angar’s sack of gear. One wall bore a recessed mirror, while another had only the Eyes of Providence sigil.

  “The Angufluxivator’s primed, serum’s in, Sir Mithas,” a soldier stated with a flat voice.

  Mithas smirked as his gray gaze bored into Angar. He tore off his angular headgear and flung it onto the table beside the chair Angar’s wrists and ankles were shackled to.

  With a flourish, the Knight swept his blue cloak back over his shoulders with a dramatic motion, then sank into the chair across from his prey. His clean-shaven face twisted with predatory glee.

  A soldier cracked the door open and jutted his head in. “Omniscry’s recording, Sir Mithas.”

  “Good.” Mithas growled out, his eyes never leaving Angar. “Let’s carve the truth from this Heretic. Test the machine, Layman.”

  After his time with the Harmongulan’s spikes, Angar thought little could cause him real suffering. He knew it was coming, but he wasn’t prepared for the amount of agony that erupted through his body, sending his nerves blazing as if dipped in lava, and his muscles spasming against the shackles.

  A raw and unbidden scream tore free from his throat, echoing around the stone room. The torment lasted a short heartbeat, but it was a heartbeat of pure torment.

  “Working fine, Sir Mithas,” the soldier confirmed, his voice completely devoid of emotion.

  “Good. Get out.” Mithas waved the man off, snatching a small control device from the soldier as he passed.

  The door clanged shut, leaving Angar and the Knight alone, and the man’s perpetual disgust melted into something darker, something like excitement. His lips curled into a snarl masquerading as a smile.

  “I don’t know what sort of Heretical blasphemy mocks Holy Theosis with the issuance of false tasks, but I shall find out,” he hissed. “I pulled Captain Vernost’s records. I’m surprised you were able to trick her, and modify your medical reports, but I’ll know how you pulled these unholy stunts soon enough. I’ll have your tricks, and I pray you fight me every step.”

  His smile widened to something genuine and cruel. “Before we begin, for the sake of cleansing your own soul and renouncing this Heresy, I must offer you a chance to come clean and rectify the lies told to Captain Vernost. Confess. Renounce your sins.”

  The Angufluxivator’s sting lingered, but it was nothing compared to the Homunculus’ venom that had once shredded Angar’s soul. His scream had been a reflex, nothing more. He clamped his jaw shut as his resolve hardened like stone. This man wouldn’t get a word from him.

  A minute dragged by, tense, and thick with silence. Mithas raised the device. “Refusing to answer?” His thumb pressed down. “Good.”

  Pain flooded Angar again, a tidal wave of fire scorching his nerves.

  This time, the torment stretched, with seconds bleeding into eternity. His body shook, his limbs straining against the shackles, the metal gouging flesh until hot and wet blood trickled down his hands and feet.

  But he swallowed the scream, choking it down with iron will, pride swelling in his chest as his silence held.

  Mithas opened his mouth, but time snapped still. Spirit materialized, her face taut with exasperation.

  She slapped a hand on the Angufluxivator, then pressed her fingers to Angar’s temple. A fleeting warmth coursed through him, cutting through the pain.

  “I’m working on it,” she said gently. “Mithas, his boss, and the grand marshal of this chapter were all given tasks by Theosis to deliver you to Venerable Sister Kenson, overseer of all the Erim sector Cloisteranages.

  “They’re defying it, claiming you’re sending these tasks with some Heretical sorcery, tying it to what’s been reported from Sulfuron 9. Just answer his questions. He’ll have to see you’re free of dark influence, same as Vernost. I’m working on a few other things. Just…stay strong, answer the questions, and prove them wrong. I’m sorry this is happening, but please, please, don’t escalate things.”

  Her hand brushed his cheek softly. “They’re monitoring so I can’t stay with you in realm time, but know I’m still here with you.” She vanished, and the world jolted forward.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  “Tell me the truth, you are the cause of the gateways being upgraded, yes?” Mithas asked.

  Angar sighed. He was at fault for that, but unknowingly, as was Spirit. He would help this man as much as he could without betraying her.

  Hours bled into a haze of torment. The Angufluxivator struck again and again, each pulse a lash of molten agony.

  Angar’s breaths rasped ragged, but his pride burned hot. He hadn’t screamed out in pain since that first cry.

  “Do you know how many imperial citizens are dying right now because of you?” asked Mithas. “How many Holy Knights are dying at the hands of Raga? All this death and blood is on you, traitor. Despite your low Tier, we know you’ve somehow made malefica pacta, a dark pact, with a Demon Lord. It’s the only explanation for these events. We know you’re working with Teth Malevon.”

  Angar’s tale, every part of it, had been told a dozen times already. He knew this Knight didn’t care about the truth. He only craved an excuse to twist that machine’s dial.

  “I told you…,” Angar began, but the Angufluxivator roared to life, drowning his words in fire. When it faded, he sucked air through gritted teeth, bracing for the next activation.

  “Lies!” Mithas snarled, slamming a fist on his thigh. “By the Three, I’ll have your true confession!”

  Angar’s blood boiled. Ground Current burned in his veins, begging to surge free, to escape these shackles and test this bastard’s mettle in combat.

  But Spirit had appeared hours back, pleading restraint again, saying it would make everything far worse for him. She had set events in motion that would secure his freedom, a path that’d clear his name with the Eyes of Providence, a Knightly Chapter she claimed was uniquely focused on rooting out Heresy and Hell’s influence within the Holy Empire.

  People called all members of this chapter ‘inquisitors,’ and it was one of the few chapters to include Crusaders, Ecclesiastic, and those of the Laity all as official members, and mix genders.

  Suddenly, the lights flickered, then died. Darkness swallowed the room. Then a dim red glow from unseen seams replaced the darkness.

  Mithas glanced around, confused, curiosity sharpening his sneer.

  A few moments later, a soldier shoved the door open, poking his head in. “Main power’s down, Sir Mithas. Backup’s on, but the Omniscry can’t record without the main power on.”

  Mithas’ lips split into a cruel grin. “Thank you, Layman. Leave us. Do not enter again unless duty absolutely demands it. Have someone fetch a gurney.”

  The door slammed shut, and he unsheathed a massive knife from his belt. Its blade vibrated with a guttural hum, its edges gleaming in the crimson light. “That’s bad luck for you, Heretic. But without this being recorded, it shall be easier to get true answers.”

  Mithas stood, his shadow shifting in the dim red light as he stalked to Angar’s rear. The cold metal of gauntleted fingers clamped his left hand, twisting it against the shackle’s give until the metal bit into skin.

  The knife sang, vibrating louder as the blade carved through skin and chewed through tendon and joint. Warm blood leaked down his palm, and his monstrous hands proved their strange resilience again, as it hardly hurt.

  Angar suspected Spirit had sabotaged the main power to spare him torment, to buy more time for whatever events she had set in motion to unfold. He doubted she had foreseen that act resulting in worse torture.

  “Next will be a toe,” Mithas said, his voice now dripping with malice. “Just a few digits, then the nails of the remaining. After that, we’ll work on nerves throughout your body. I’m good at this, and I enjoy it.”

  He knelt and grabbed Angar’s foot. “Now, tell me which Demon Lord you have a pact with. The truth.”

  “I told you…,” another cut ended Angar’s reply. His left little toe joined the pinky, this amputation hurting as much as it should, unlike the finger.

  The questioning dragged on, Mithas pulling out nails then carving into flesh all over his body, only met with Angar’s silence, his pride set against this butcher’s glee. No screams left his mouth, his only reply was more wet drips of crimson on stone.

  Spirit had said the Eyes of Providence saved billions of lives each year, and though it was dirty work, the members of this chapter were generally good, providing an invaluable service to the Holy Empire.

  He was having a hard time seeing things that way. He thought Mithas was a dog, dishonorable scum, and the galaxy would be greatly improved without him in it.

  He took it all, knowing he could trust Spirit, that she was focused on a bigger picture than he could see, and the best long-term result, wanting only the best outcome for him.

  And the last time he had dismissed her pleas hadn’t ended very well for him.

  So, he sat his seat and endured it all, though he became more injured and bloodier as it went on, focusing on not gifting this dog with the satisfaction of a scream.

  “Your fell power has made you resistant to questioning,” Mithas spat, frustration cracking his calm. “But if the knife won’t break you, I know what shall.”

  He stormed to the table, rummaging through Angar’s sack, and yanked out the vial of Homunculus venom. Twisting his belt, he freed a bulky pack, slamming it down. From it, he drew a syringe, plunging its needle into the venom and pulling the plunger back with a slurp.

  He turned, grinning gleefully, the needle glinting in his fist.

  Ground Current activated. Angar materialized beside Mithas as lightning streaked down. Before the Knight knew what was happening, or maybe due to being stunned, the syringe jabbed into his eye, the plunger pressed, and the red light bathing the room flickered.

  Venom flooded the socket. A choked gurgle left the Knight’s lips, and he collapsed.

  As Angar reached to catch it, the body stopped mid-fall, frozen in the air.

  Spirit flickered into view, pacing in a frenzy.

  She halted, facing Angar with eyes filled with panic. “Okay. Events are getting out of hand, but we can fix this still.”

  Angar was past fixing things. He followed Spirit as he liked and respected the woman. He owed her a lot. She had given him power and had led him straight into many glorious battles.

  But too many times had she expected him to be as Mithas, a low man with no chest, and his honor demanded an end to that.

  To him, the Eyes of Providence was an unholy entity.

  He didn’t need Spirit to lead him to his next glorious battle, as he was already in the building where it would happen, and he’d paint its walls red.

  The Lord thirsted.