Leonhard's head hung low, his breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. Blood soaked his torn shirt, dripping from the gash on his shoulder and pooling beneath him. His vision blurred, and he could barely see through the swollen, bruised mess his face had become. Every inch of his body throbbed with pain, and the weight of the star stone chains crushed his spirit as much as his strength.
The man with the red hair and golden armor leaned over him, gripping his chin and forcing his face upward. Leonhard's head lolled to the side, barely able to hold itself upright.
"Stubborn brat," the red-haired man growled. "You think this is all just a game, don't you? Hexrend's little disciple, acting tough." He sneered and backhanded Leonhard across the face, splitting his lip open.
Leonhard coughed, spitting blood onto the stone floor, and forced his eyes to meet the man's hateful glare. "I don't... know... Hexrend," he mumbled, his voice raw and strained.
The man with the eye patch gave a low, humorless laugh. "Yeah, right. Kid's been trained to resist. We're wasting time." He glanced at the silver-haired torturer, who nodded and picked up a branding iron from the fire. The red-hot metal glowed ominously in the dim room.
Leonhard's heart pounded, but he bit his tongue to keep from crying out. They'd already carved into him, beaten him, burned his arms and legs, but he refused to give them the satisfaction of begging.
The silver-haired man pressed the branding iron against Leonhard's ribs, and the sizzle of burning flesh filled the air. Leonhard screamed, arching against the chains, but they held him fast. His vision swam, and he thought he might black out.
The old man—Jeb—just watched with a twisted grin on his weathered face. "Tough little bastard. Wonder how much longer he'll last."
The red-haired man scoffed and tossed the iron aside. "We'll see about that." He gestured to the door. "Bring in the woman."
Leonhard's heart lurched. No. Not her.
Two guards dragged a figure into the room, a burlap sack covering her head. Leonhard strained against the chains, fresh panic blazing through his veins despite the pain. "No! Leave her alone!"
The guards shoved her to her knees, and one of them yanked the sack away. Martha's face was bruised and bloody, but her eyes remained fierce as she took in the sight of her son chained and broken.
"Leonhard!" she cried, trying to crawl toward him, but the guards held her back.
"M-Mom," Leonhard rasped, tears streaming down his dirt-smeared cheeks. "Don't... don't hurt her... please..."
The man with the eye patch snorted. "Seems the brat's found his weak spot." He grabbed Martha by the hair and yanked her head back, drawing a dagger to her throat. "Now, kid. You tell us where Hexrend is, or Mommy here's gonna bleed out right in front of you."
Leonhard thrashed against his bindings, raw desperation clawing at his chest. "I don't know! I swear I don't know! Please! Just let her go!"
The red-haired man smirked. "You're lying. And you know what happens to liars." He nodded at the torturer, who moved forward and dug his fingers into Martha's shoulder, pressing on an old wound. Martha clenched her jaw, refusing to scream, but a pained groan escaped her lips.
Leonhard sobbed, powerless, his magic sparking faintly at his fingertips only to be drained away by the star stone. He struggled harder, mana flaring only to be extinguished again and again, until he was left breathless and helpless.
"Don't!" Martha pleaded, her voice cracking. "He doesn't know anything! He's just a boy!"
The man with the eye patch sneered. "Boys don't burn wolves alive and sprout vines from the ground. He's a demon spawn—and so are you for sheltering him."
Martha's lips trembled, but she kept her gaze steady. "He's my son. He's just a child. Please... let him go. Kill me if you must, but spare him."
Leonhard's stomach twisted at the thought, and he pulled at the chains until his wrists bled. "No! Don't say that! Please!"
But they didn't listen. The silver-haired torturer brought a spiked rod down on Martha's arm, snapping bone with a sickening crunch. Martha cried out, clutching her arm as pain washed over her.
"STOP!" Leonhard screamed, his voice breaking. He fought the chains, pushing every ounce of his remaining mana through his veins, but it slipped away like sand through his fingers. "STOP IT! I'LL DO ANYTHING! JUST DON'T HURT HER!"
The red-haired man only smiled. "Then talk."
"I CAN'T! I DON'T KNOW!"
They hit Martha again, then again—punches, kicks, knives carving shallow cuts into her skin. Martha's eyes found Leonhard's, and she managed a pained smile, blood running from the corner of her mouth. "L-Leonhard... close your eyes... don't look..."
"No... Mom... I can't... I can't just..." He sobbed, his shoulders shaking. The pain in his chest was worse than any wound they'd given him.
"Enough," the red-haired man finally said. He nodded to the eye-patch man, who drew his blade and pressed it to Martha's throat.
"Say goodbye, boy."
Leonhard's heart shattered. "NO! PLEASE! DON'T—"
The knife flashed. Blood sprayed across the stone floor as Martha's body slumped forward, eyes staring blankly into nothingness.
Time seemed to stop. Leonhard couldn't breathe, couldn't think. All he saw was his mother's lifeless body lying on the cold ground.
Something snapped inside him. The pain vanished, replaced by a white-hot fury. His head bowed, and his breath came in harsh, guttural gasps. The chains rattled, and golden light began seeping from his skin, forming cracks along his flesh.
The torturers took a wary step back, eyes widening in alarm.
"Wh-What's happening?" the eye-patch man stammered.
The fractures spread across Leonhard's entire body, his skin splintering like fragile porcelain. Light poured from the cracks, and his hair turned snow-white, floating upward as raw power erupted from him. His eyes glowed with a molten gold hue, and when he looked up, the air seemed to hum with his rage.
The golden-haired man shouted, "Kill him! NOW!"
The silver-haired man lunged, but before his blade could make contact, Leonhard's restraints shattered, and he moved faster than their eyes could track. His hand plunged into the torturer's chest, ripping his heart out with one clean motion. Blood sprayed across the room as the body crumpled to the floor.
The red-haired man swung his gleaming sword, but Leonhard caught the blade mid-swing, his bare hand cutting through the metal like it was nothing. The red-haired man's eyes filled with terror as Leonhard grabbed his throat and squeezed. Bones crunched, and the man's neck snapped like a twig.
The last two men tried to flee, but Leonhard moved faster, his movements a blur of light and fury. One's head was torn from his shoulders, the other's body impaled on a spike of pure golden energy.
Standing amid the carnage, Leonhard's golden eyes flickered, his body still glowing as he looked at Martha's motionless form. He fell to his knees, the power slowly fading, his hair returning to its usual color.
A sob tore from his chest as he crawled to her side, his trembling hands reaching for her face. He wiped the blood from her cheek, cradling her head in his lap.
"Mom... I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..."
He stayed there, rocking back and forth, whispering her name through his tears as the room filled with the silence of death.