Chapter 13: The Devil’s Byproduct

“Whoo. Hah. … Haa.”

A sound of breathing began in the prison that had been as silent as an underground graveyard. It was a sign that Reef’s consciousness, which had been knocked out, was slowly returning.

Reef refused to open his eyes, thinking he would rather have his soul vanish than wake up like this. But the pain of his body, which had been swept far away by the wave called sleep, returned to the shore of consciousness. He had no choice but to open his eyes.

“Hahk.”

Reef lifted his eyelids and groped the floor.

Clank, clank.

When he moved, the chains on his wrists scraped the floor and made an unpleasant noise. Reef could not hear the chains because of the groans leaking from his mouth.

The skin on both wrists was peeled off. Even staying still brought pain like salt being sprinkled on a wound.

‘Is this what they call karmic retribution?’

Reef gave up on moving because of the pain in his wrists and tried to let out a self-mocking laugh. But he had used up all his strength just before, so he did not even have the power left to move the corners of his mouth.

From appearance alone, Reef did not actually look like he had suffered that great a torture. Compared to whipping or branding with an iron, the electric torture Baskerville had devised left fewer external wounds on the body.

‘Was it during the war with the Buonarroti Kingdom that I made this magic? No, maybe it was the Battle of Lumacon when I joined the war at fourteen.’

Reef felt the curves of the magic circle carved into the stone floor seeping into his body. He recalled an old man’s ugly past.

There had been a time when the entire Kanon Continent was heated by war. Put that way, it might sound very brief, but the conflict between the Cardmos faction and the Balman faction dragged on stubbornly for decades.

‘It was an era when everyone was swept up in madness. People drove enemy mages to their deaths without a second thought, tortured them…’

It was during that time that Baskerville created a magic circle for torture called the “Devil’s Byproduct.” He had never dreamed he would personally experience the magic that had once made enemy allied mages tremble. The situation felt bitterly comic to Reef.

‘It’s magic I made, but its effect is tremendous.’

During the Thirty Years’ War, commanders praised Baskerville everywhere because it became much easier to extract information from prisoners. Some seriously argued that Baskerville deserved a medal. Baskerville inwardly resented not understanding why the commanders were making such a fuss.

But now that he had felt the magic circle’s power firsthand, he realized the soldiers’ praise had contained no exaggeration or flattery. Not that he had ever welcomed such praise, then or now. No, it was worse than unwelcome. It was so disgusting he could barely stand it.

‘Why was I even born with memories of a past life? There isn’t a single thing about it that helps me. It only torments me.’

Reef was afraid to sleep. While conscious, he could suppress the memories of his past life by his own will. But the moment Reef’s personality fell asleep, Baskerville ran wild.

Baskerville pulled out old memories in random order and shoved them before Reef’s eyes.

As if to say, ‘You must not forget your sins. You were rotten from the root, so don’t even dream of being happy. You were reborn to be punished.’

The pain that had briefly subsided while he recalled past-life memories grew strong again.

“It hurts. Ugh…”

Reef curled up, sweating cold. The reason the Devil’s Byproduct was called vicious was that it made the subject feel similar pain even when not being electrically tortured.

It did not actually deliver a shock of the same intensity. It stimulated the muscles and nerves and made them relive the most painful moment. Like a mercenary who lost an arm feeling pain in an arm that no longer existed, or a ghost repeating its death over and over.

‘Stop. I don’t want the pain anymore. I’d rather have a nightmare.’

For the first time in his life, Reef wanted to run away into a nightmare. He knew nightmares exhausted the mind, but the immediate pain was too great.

Yet Baskerville, who otherwise kidnapped Reef so well, did not drag him into a nightmare today even when he showed an opening.

‘You really are the worst human being. Because you’re so petty and cowardly, everyone hates you!’

Reef thrashed in pain and slandered Baskerville. He knew better than anyone in the world that Baskerville was innocent. But the pain was so unbearable that he needed someone to resent.

Baskerville had fallen to the status of a universal object of hatred for any living creature in the material world. But even he had once been revered as a hero.

He had heard praise as a genius of the century, one who appeared maybe once in a thousand years, until his ears were sore. Every year he was chosen as the mage younger mages most wanted to resemble. But the records containing such stories had been thoroughly distorted and erased by the Continental Allied Forces.

The youngest ever to reach the 6th Circle and become a master. Innovative research achievements that contributed greatly to the development of magic. The first human since the ancient Great Demon God War era to cross the threshold of the 8th Circle. One with a demonic talent for magic… All these were titles given to Baskerville alone.

Nobles waited weeks and months to arrange meetings with him. Formidable kingdoms begged him to come to their countries, promising to grant him the title of Archmage.

But none of it meant anything to Reef. The current him was not Baskerville, the Archmage famous across the Kanon Continent.

Reef did not envy the brilliant, luxurious life Baskerville had possessed at all. He could not say life as a s*ave was good, but there had never been a time he found it unbearable.

But now that he was locked in a prison and being interrogated for a crime he had not committed, he resented for the first time that he had been born a s*ave with no power.

“Ah, ugh. Urk.”

Reef lost consciousness alone in the darkness and woke again, over and over. Even when he regained consciousness, he was not in a state where he could think normally. His mind wavered so much that he could not tell whether he was Reef or Baskerville.

As he swung like a pendulum between reality and hallucination, the sound of footsteps came to Reef’s ears. Thud, thud, echoing down the corridor.

Fear spread through Reef’s unfocused eyes. Reef was not given separate meals. Therefore, there was only one reason footsteps could be heard in the prison corridor where the jailer did not come. Russell was returning to torture him.

‘It’s okay. I can endure it. I’m not scared.’

Reef tried to be composed. But thinking of the pain soon to come, his body trembled regardless of his will.

Could he survive today?

He felt death drawing closer with each moment. The black stain in the corner of the wall looked like a passage through which a demon or the reaper came and went. Reef was sure he would not be surprised even if the reaper poked its head out and grabbed his ankle right now.

Death. Something he had already experienced once.

Maybe dying was not entirely bad. If he died, he would not suffer from Baskerville’s memories.

Clank. He heard the lock of the thick iron door opening.

Creeeak, bang! As the prison door opened, light from the corridor poured in. But the shadows cast on the floor were different from yesterday. There were two, not one.

‘Maybe I’m seeing things from the heat. Or my eyesight has gotten worse.’

Reef did not consider the possibility that he had seen correctly and two people had come. His consciousness was fading again just then, so he assumed his body’s functions had declined as usual.

While Reef was unconscious, Russell invited the guest accompanying him to enter first.

“This is the place, Your Highness. Please go in.”

Iska looked down at Russell with an expression of disbelief. It was not as if this was his first visit to the prison, so why was he being told the destination was here? But it was too minor a mistake to scold him for, so Iska let it pass without comment.

“The smell is awful.”

Iska frowned as he stepped into the prison. Russell thought he meant the smell came from Reef, not the prison, and pointed at Reef.

“Shall I wash him?”

“Russell, do I look like a noble who frequents salons? You should know that this much smell doesn’t even count as stench to me. And come to think of it, you’ve been making a fuss over nothing since a while ago. Did you do something you feel guilty about?”

“Absolutely not!”

Russell jumped up, feeling wronged by Iska’s suspicious look. His lord was acting unlike himself, so he had only tried to assist with extra vigor, and now he was being nitpicked for it. It was too unfair.

Whether Russell felt wronged or not, Iska turned his gaze to Reef, who was sprawled face-down ahead like a corpse.

“Is that thing alive?”

“He was alive when the interrogation ended yesterday. Hmm, since I haven’t looked in for over half a day, he might be barely breathing. I’ll check.”

As Russell tried to approach Reef, Iska stretched out an arm to stop him.

“No need.”

“Yes? What do you mean, no need…”

“You don’t need to check. He’s alive. Can’t you hear him breathing?”

Russell nearly exploded.

‘If you knew he was alive, why ask if he’s alive? Why! Why! Damn it, serving a lord with such a filthy temper is too hard. He wasn’t usually like this, so why is he being so prickly about every little thing today?’

While Russell beat his chest in despair over his aide’s life, Iska slowly approached Reef like a cautious lion approaching a snake.

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