CHAPTER 8: TORTURE AS A MESSAGE

Lucas stared at the system notification with a smile that chilled the air around him. SS-Rank Threat—a classification that should have made any Lord fearful. But to Lucas, this was simply a more interesting challenge.

"Change of strategy," Lucas ordered through a mental link to his entire force. "I want him alive. Kill everyone else, but let that elite scout breathe. I have a more... entertaining plan."

Shadow Stalker responded with a wave of dark acknowledgment. The Ghoul Footmen began to move in a more tactical formation, while the Bone Dogs spread out to cut off all escape routes. The Death Knights took up positions at strategic points, their black armor blending into the darkness.

[System Alert]

Elite Scout has entered kill zone

Multiple hostiles detected alongside target

Enemy composition: 1 SS-Rank Elite, 4 A-Rank Soldiers, 2 B-Rank Supports

Recommendation: Retreat and request reinforcements

Lucas laughed—a sound that resonated with pure madness. "Reinforcements? They’re the ones who’ll need reinforcements."

Selena stood beside Lucas, her red eyes gleaming with fearful anticipation. "My King, should I come down and play?"

"Not yet," Lucas replied, raising his hand. "Let our children play first. I want to see how well they’ve trained."

The battle began with a boom that shook the entire Night Crypt. Through Shadow Stalker’s eyes, Lucas could see an elite scout moving at inhuman speed, his blade gleaming with powerful enchantments. But he wasn’t alone—four heavily armored soldiers flanked him, while two support casters began casting barrier spells.

"Interesting formation," Lucas muttered as he analyzed the enemy’s movements. "But they don’t know who they’re facing."

The first Ghoul Footman to attack was immediately met with a brutal counterattack. The elite scout moved like a whirlwind of death, each slash of his blade slicing through undead flesh with ease. But Lucas had anticipated this.

"Activate pack tactics," Lucas ordered.

The scattered Bone Dogs suddenly appeared from all directions, their blue fire eyes burning with a terrifying hunger. Their Pack Hunt ability activated, and their damage increased manifold when attacking the same target.

The elite scout was forced to retreat, his elegant movements starting to be disrupted by the pressure of multiple attackers. One of the support casters tried to cast a healing spell, but Shadow Stalker was already behind him.

Death Mark.

The first support caster fell with his throat open, blood flowing like a miniature fountain. But what interested Lucas was the elite scout’s reaction—he didn’t panic, he didn’t get angry. He smiled.

"Something’s wrong," Selena whispered. "He’s too calm for someone who’s losing."

Lucas frowned. His instincts honed by countless battles began to scream warningly. "Shadow Stalker, retreat now!"

But it was too late. The elite scout pulled a crystal from his armor and crushed it. An explosion of white light blinded the entire area, and when the light subsided, Lucas saw something that made his blood boil.

[System Alert]

Enemy has activated [Divine Protection]

All undead units suffer 50% damage reduction

All healing effects increased by 200%

Duration: 5 minutes

"Holy magic," Lucas growled. "He’s a Paladin."

The situation changed drastically. The previously dominant Ghoul Footmen began to retreat, their flesh burned by the divine aura emanating from the elite scout. Bone Dogs whimpered—a strange sound for creatures that should not be able to feel pain.

"My King," Selena said in a dangerous voice, "allow me to go down."

Lucas stared at the increasingly heated battle. His original strategy of capturing the elite scout alive was beginning to be threatened. But he would not give up so easily.

"No," Lucas said, raising both hands. "I will go down myself."

[System Alert]

Lord Lucas Nightveil entering combat

All friendly units receive [Dark Lord’s Presence] buff

ATK +100%, DEF +50%, SPD +25%

All enemy units suffer [Terror] debuff

Lucas leapt from the balcony, his body enveloped in a darkness so thick that the air around him felt like syrup. When he landed, the ground beneath his feet cracked and turned into obsidian.

The elite scout—who Lucas could now clearly see was a dark-skinned man with scars on his face—stared at Lucas with eyes filled with determination. "Lucas Nightveil," he said in a steady voice. "I have come to kill you in the name of Lord Marcus."

"An interesting name for someone who is about to die," Lucas replied as he took out the Nightfall Blade from his inventory. The sword, made of crystallized darkness, vibrated with the same hunger as its master.

The battle between the Lord and the Elite Scout began with a clash that made the air tremble. Holy magic met dark power, creating shockwaves that destroyed the trees around the area. The elite scout—who introduced himself as Sir Gareth—moved with flawless technique, each strike calculated to maximize damage to the undead.

But Lucas was no ordinary undead. He was the Lord of the Night Crypt, a being who stood on the boundary between life and death. Holy magic was painful, but not fatal.

"You are strong," Lucas admitted, parrying a strike aimed at his heart. "But you made a fatal mistake."

"What was that?" Gareth asked, continuing to attack with relentless fury.

"You came into my territory," Lucas replied with a sadistic smile. "Here, I am god."

Lucas activated Vampiric Dominion at full power. Dark energy exploded from his body, creating a zone of absolute darkness within a radius of 100 meters. Within this zone, he could feel every heartbeat, every breath, every movement of his enemies.

Sir Gareth tried to maintain Divine Protection, but divine magic had its limits. After a few minutes of fighting in absolute darkness, his crystal began to crack.

"Now," Lucas whispered.

The Shadow Stalker emerged from the darkness, not to kill, but to paralyze. The Death Mark was replaced with the Paralysis Mark, a technique that halted movement without killing the target.

Sir Gareth fell, his body stiff as a statue. The remaining soldiers tried to help, but the Ghoul Footmen, buffed by the Dark Lord’s Presence, moved with frightening speed.

In a matter of minutes, the battle was over. Sir Gareth was bound in chains of materialized darkness, while the two surviving soldiers—though seriously wounded—were also captured.

"Take them to the dungeon," Lucas ordered the Death Knights. "I’ll be right back."

Lucas returned to the Night Crypt where Selena waited with barely contained excitement. Her red eyes glinted with terrifying anticipation.

"My King," she whispered, licking her lips, "is it time to... play?"

"Yes," Lucas replied, opening the door to the dungeon. "But this isn’t just for fun. This is a message."

The Night Crypt dungeon was a masterpiece of torture architecture. The walls were lined with movable spikes, self-tightening chains, and various devices designed to inflict maximum pain without killing the target.

Sir Gareth was suspended by chains in the center of the room, while two soldiers were tied to torture tables on either side. Their eyes still showed defiance, though fear was beginning to show.

"Welcome to my home," Lucas said as he walked around the prisoners. "I hope you’re comfortable, because you’ll be staying here for... some time."

Selena approached one of the soldiers with predatory movements. Her pale fingers transformed into sharp claws, and she began to scratch the soldier’s armor slowly.

"My King," Selena said in a voice filled with sadistic joy, "may I start with this one? He looks... young. It’ll be more... intense."

Lucas nodded. "Do as you wish. But remember—they must stay alive. I want to send a clear message to Marcus."

Selena smiled—a smile that made even the combat-experienced Sir Gareth shiver. "Of course, My King. I will be very... careful."

Screams echoed through the dungeon as Selena began her work. She moved with the elegance of a true artist, each cut calculated to inflict maximum pain. Blood flowed in beautiful yet gruesome patterns.

"Stop!" Sir Gareth shouted. "Let them go! Take me!"

Lucas turned to face the elite scout with genuine interest. "Loyalty. I respect that. But unfortunately, this isn’t about you guys. This is about Marcus."

Selena paused and looked at Lucas with gleaming eyes. "My King, I have an idea. What if we cut them into... pieces? Artistic pieces?"

Lucas smiled with dark satisfaction. "Excellent idea, Selena. We’ll send their parts back as gifts."

"We’ll send the parts back... as gifts," Lucas said as he looked at Sir Gareth whose face had gone pale. "I’m sure Marcus will... appreciate our gesture."