EVIL SYSTEM

Ben opened his eyes and stared at an unfamiliar ceiling. He tried to move but found himself handcuffed, unable to do anything except look at the ceiling.

His mouth also seemed to be gagged, so he couldn't speak or scream for help.

The sound of something scraping against another surface echoed in the gloomy room.

Ben didn't give up and tried everything to free himself and use magic.

His cuffs and restraints began to grow slightly warm after he used a lot of his magic, but not even a spark came out.

"Oh?" A small exclamation, accompanied by a hint of amusement, suddenly rang out.

Ben immediately froze and tried to look in that direction, but his neck and head were also restrained by thick steel clamps.

But he didn't need to strain himself, as the sound of footsteps grew closer and closer.

"You're awake!"

A young man appeared in his field of vision, no older than 25. He had blond hair, blue eyes, and a big, happy smile on his face.

The guy was the living image of something Ben didn't think was possible—or at least hadn't considered.

Being blond and blue-eyed... and ugly, very ugly.

His face was deformed, with a disproportionately large head and very little hair. His teeth were crooked, and the distance between his eyes was so wide that his nose looked tiny.

"Maybe you're wondering, 'Who is this handsome man in front of me?'" the guy said with his crooked smile.

"But that's not a good question." The young man raised a finger in front of his face and shook it side to side. "No, a better question would be, 'What is that in your hand?'"

The young man grinned, his eyes wide open, and from his right hand, he showed Ben a tool.

A tool commonly used in metal crafting, jewelry making, or even tailoring.

An awl!

"And do you know what an even better question would be?" The guy leaned in close to Ben, his expression twisting into something cheerful yet horrifying. "What do I plan to do with it?"

The guy kept smiling as he touched Ben's chest with a perverted look. Slowly, he moved his hands to Ben's shoulder and arm.

His hands quickly reached Ben's wrist, and he gripped it tightly.

"The answer is simple." The guy took one of Ben's fingers and pointed the awl at it.

Ben writhed in desperation, seeing his intentions, but he was firmly strapped to the metal table.

"I'll do whatever I want." The guy drove the awl into Ben's index finger.

Ben's body twisted in pain, his eyes wide open, while only muffled groans escaped his gagged mouth.

"Come on, buddy, just say 'stop,' and I'll stop." The young man smiled amiably, and Ben looked at him with pleading eyes, but not a single word could escape his gagged mouth.

"What's that?" The guy leaned his ear closer to Ben but kept applying pressure to the awl. "I can't hear you."

"Guess you don't want me to pull it out." Shrugging, he left the awl buried deep in Ben's finger.

"But don't worry." Walking out of Ben's sight, the guy returned with another tool. "The fun is just beginning."

The new tool was a large piece of iron bent into the shape of a screw, with a wooden handle and a very sharp tip.

The guy placed the tip on Ben's palm... and began to screw it in.

**Mbnbnhhhbnn!!!**

The pain was something Ben had never experienced so intensely. His eyes rolled back, and his body convulsed as if he were having a seizure.

With every turn of the giant screw, Ben felt the iron penetrate his flesh and grind against his bones.

"That's it!!! That's it!!! What a beautiful expression!!!"

...

Luxury cars arrived one after another at the entrance of a massive mansion.

People stepped out of the cars, exchanging glances but not speaking to each other.

They entered the mansion but treated each other like strangers.

The entrance looked like a very old hall, with paintings of various figures on the walls.

"Back in this damn place." A woman in her thirties, with shoulder-length blond hair and an attitude as if she owned the place, stood with her hands on her hips.

She was dressed very elegantly.

"Don't say that," a serious middle-aged man in a tuxedo interrupted her. "This is supposed to be our ancestral home and the place where the hunting festival takes place."

"Right, Ivan?" The man turned halfway and looked toward the door.

A guy who didn't seem to have reached adulthood, dressed very extravagantly, was there, but he ignored them while checking his phone.

"Damn bastard!" the man whispered under his breath at his attitude.

Only then did the guy lift his head, revealing his half-shaved haircut, tattoos, and piercings.

He stared at the man but quickly ignored him again.

"The master is waiting for you." The old butler of the house bowed with his usual stoic expression.

The three exchanged glances for a second and, without a word, followed the butler to the dining room.

At the head of the dining table sat a young man with short black hair and piercing green eyes.

He sat in a position of power, staring intently at the three.

"Father!"

"Father!"

"Father!"

The three greeted the man, who looked younger than all of them except Ivan, with the utmost respect.

With a wave of his hand and without uttering a word, he invited them to sit.

None of them moved, waiting for the man's instructions. They waited for several minutes until they heard the footsteps of someone else.

Still wearing a blood-stained butcher's apron, the final guest arrived for dinner.

"Sorry I'm late," he said as he removed the apron and handed it to the butler. His ugly face formed a smile of ecstasy and excitement. "I got a little carried away with my new toy."

The man at the head of the table raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

"Hey!" The middle-aged man pointed to his ear and handed him a napkin.

"Oh?" Taking the napkin, Grigor wiped the little blood left on his ear. "Thanks!"

"Now that everyone is here." The man at the head of the table stood and signaled the butler with his glass.

The butler nodded, and a beautiful, sweet-looking girl no older than 15 entered the dining room with a bottle that looked like an expensive wine.

The girl approached the man and tried to pour the wine, but he raised a hand to stop her.

The girl looked confused for a moment until the man took the bottle from her hands, broke it, and with the sharp edge of the bottle, made a surgical incision across her neck.

The girl's eyes widened in horror, and she raised her arms, pleading for help.

Without any expression on his face, the man placed his glass under the girl's neck and filled it with her blood.

One by one, the other four people at the table did the same, filling their glasses with the girl's blood.

"In a world where the strong rule and the weak are prey, hesitating to take a life is a mortal sin." The man raised his glass in a toast. "I hereby declare this year's hunt officially open!"

The man brought the glass to his lips and slowly drank from it.

His children followed his example without showing any emotion. All except Grigor, who drank the blood with a joyful and happy expression.