Grimoire of Cultivation

Chapter 89: Cruel Shadows

As soon as Darius stepped through the portal into the Vault, he spotted Marcus examining the floor, his eyes wide with curiosity. "Never seen one before?"

"So it is an All-room! Incredible, I've never actually seen one in person. Show me something, maybe a training room or a study?"

Smiling, Darius stepped forward, 'is this what I looked like back then?' He then positioned himself inside the center array and announced, "Training hall."

Marcus’s excitement was like a child’s at a festival, his eyes tracking every change as the room transformed. After cycling through a few options to show the versatility of the All-room, Darius rolled his eyes, amused but done with the demonstration, "Empty."

Marcus chuckled, the vibrancy in his expression evident, "To own an All-room... your ancestors truly blessed you."

"There's more. Each door leads to treasures equal to that of the All-room." Darius gestured towards the third door as he spoke. "This one, I believe, you'll find particularly exciting."

He opened the door and paused, allowing Marcus to step in first. As Marcus entered, he was immediately greeted by an immense rush of mana, pausing for a moment, he rushed through multiple displays with wide eyes, barely catching his breath, "Are these all artifacts?!"

"Most are, yes. A few just have runes or are crystal-imbued."

Marcus, entranced by a longsword emitting a deep crimson glow, turned quickly to Darius. "This is astounding. This collection dwarfs even my family's armory. The history... it's just immense."

Abruptly, Marcus's excitement dimmed, "if you're thinking of arming the slaves with these, it won't compensate for their lack of strength. Even the most formidable werefolk couldn't handle these properly. It’d be like handing a giant broadsword to a child—utterly impractical."

With a knowing smile, Darius turned towards the exit, "There’s more to see." He paused, waiting for Marcus, who followed with a hint of reluctance.

Closing the armory door behind him, Darius approached the sixth door, a mischievous grin lighting up his face. "Ever heard of a Beast-farm?" He swung the door open, revealing the sprawling, sunlit expanse.

Marcus's jaw dropped as he stepped toward the threshold. "A beast-farm? An actual beast-farm? I don’t think I’ve ever been jealous of someone until now."

As Marcus crossed into the vibrant landscape, Darius's expression sobered. Closing his eyes, he murmured under his breath, "Forgive me, Marcus, but it’s the fastest way." With a quiet click, the door shut, leaving Darius alone in the All-room. Settling into a lotus position, he began to cycle his cultivation technique, enveloped in the silence of the Vault.

----

Hearing the door shut behind him, Marcus turned his head, excitement in his voice, "where's the...kid?" Attempting to turn around, he realized his feet wouldn't move. Glancing down, nothing appeared to be restraining him, yet he remained fixed in place. "What’s going on? Stop playing tricks, Darius."

His demand hung in the air unanswered, only to be replaced by his shock as he looked up. "What's going on?!" Rage tinged his voice as the lush visuals of the farm were gone, replaced by utter darkness.

"I don’t appreciate this! Stop this now and we—" His protest was cut short as a soft glow caught his eye. Initially small, it expanded, gradually highlighting an entire corner of what appeared to be a large stone chamber, revealing a heavy wooden door.

Marcus channeled his aura, straining to bolster his strength, but his efforts faltered, causing his brow to tighten. "Why can't I manipulate my aura?" He glanced at his hands, panic rising as his heartbeat quickened. His focus was abruptly drawn to the glowing corner as the sound of a turning handle echoed through the room.

"Who's there?! Percy, if that's you— Who are you? Hey! What are you doing?! Let him go!"

A large figure cloaked in black robes entered the room, their features hidden by a dark hood. Trailing behind was another robed figure, clutching a chain that was connected to a collar around the neck of a young, human boy. The boy, who had dirty blonde hair and appeared no older than six, was only dressed in stained linen shorts. His small body jerked forward roughly by the chain as the second figure dragged him further into the room.

Ignoring Marcus completely, the figures dragged the boy towards him, their path being lit from above as they proceeded.

Seeing the fresh bruises and cuts on the boy's body, Marcus's anger surged. "Cowards! Release me! Get your hands off him!" He strained, lunging forward, but his feet remained rooted to the spot.

Continuing unaffected, the figures led the boy to a chair that suddenly lit up just before Marcus, still mockingly out of his reach. They positioned the boy in it, and with a wave of their hand, the boy was instantly bound to the seat, his face contorted in pain from the force.

"Savages! What is this?! Say something!"

As the two robed figures departed, the light that trailed them dimmed, eventually vanishing as they exited. This left the boy lit solely by a beam of light from above, with Marcus frustratingly just out of reach.

"Listen to me, you're going to be okay. Look at me, tell me your name," Marcus called out, his voice trying to bridge the gap of darkness between them.

The boy seemed to disregard Marcus's attempts. He struggled against his magical restraints, tears streaking down his face as he thrashed and screamed in fear.

Marcus's eyes strained as he reached toward the child, his voice urgent, "Listen! Listen to me! I'll get you out of this, but you—"

Abruptly, he dropped, clamping his hands over his ears as a prolonged, explosive sound tore through the stone room and vibrated every bone in his body.

Struggling to look up, his gaze lingered for a moment on the scene before him. Then, abandoning his ears, he lunged forward desperately, entirely focused on reaching the child.

Just out of reach, the boy's face twisted into a silent scream. His eyes bloodshot, tears and snot streaming down from his contorted face. Veins bulged visibly under his skin, strained by the overwhelming sensory assualt.

Amidst the deafening roar, the grotesque sound of tearing ligaments and muscles was lost as Marcus clawed desperately at the ground, stretching painfully towards the boy, his cries unheard.

Slamming his fist into the ground, he clenched his jaw, tears brimming in his eyes as he watched, powerless.

In a flash, the room suddenly flooded with a blinding light, making him recoil momentarily, only to realize he could somehow still see despite the glare.

Rage surged through him once again, overpowering the pain as he forced himself to stand. He watched in agony as the boy endured a fresh torture, his eyes somehow forcibly held open to endure the blinding light, while the monstrous roar continued unabated.

Frantically glancing towards the chair, Marcus attempted once more to manifest his armor. Consumed by frustration, he struggled to capture every detail of the scene before him.

'Calm down! Think! There has to be a reason; this isn't random! The boy should be deaf and blind by now, so focus on something else!'

As his eyes scanned frantically until a sudden realization froze him, focusing on a certain part of the chair, his face paled. Lifting his gaze slowly to meet that of the boy, his mind reeled, 'healing runes.'

Falling back, he landed heavily, his feet remaining anchored. Marcus, a fourth tier steel knight, wept, powerless as he watched the child suffer in an endless loop of torture.

As time seemed to stretch infinitely, overwhelmed by his own helplessness, Marcus closed his eyes, pressing his palms over his ears.

"Please, stop this. Let him go..."

He lost all sense of time, his heart growing heavier with each passing second. Finally, the relentless vibrations ceased and slowly, he removed his hands from his ears.

Opening his eyes, Marcus's voice broke, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry I couldn't do anything. Can you hear me? Boy? Boy?!"

The child remained motionless, his pale blue eyes now clear of bloodshot veins but staring emptily ahead, drool dribbling down as his head rolled to the side.

The tension shattered as the door at the back burst into a bright glow, swinging open to reveal the two robed figures advancing towards the boy.

"I'll fucking kill you!" Marcus screamed, surging to his feet, "come on, then! It's my turn, right?! Do to me what you intend for the boy! You damn cowards, fucking inbred swamp-roaches, come at me!!"

Once again, his shouts fell on deaf ears. The robed figures stood over the boy, waving their hands to release him from the chair. Wrapping the chain back around his neck, they dragged the child across the stone floor and out of the room. The entire time, the boy's expression remained unchanged, his eyes unblinking.

The door shut, plunging the room into suffocating darkness. Marcus's shouts and curses vanished into the void, swallowed without an echo.

"Get me out of here! Darius, you traitor! If you've done anything to my son, I'll skin you alive!"

A sliver of light cracked through the darkness, swelling quickly to reveal a vast hall dominated by a large stage across from him.

"Tell me what's happening damn you!"

Reacting to his outcry, the double doors at the side of the hall flung open. A large group of children led by the two robed figures entered. Spotting the young blonde boy among them, Marcus called out, his voice urgent, "You, boy! Are you okay?! Come to me, all of you, get behind me!"

One of the robed figures approached the stage's edge, his voice sounding unnatural, "You are probably wondering where the food is. Well, don't worry, it will be here shortly. But first, we need to address something."

As Marcus's anxiety mounted, he frantically examined the room, struggling futilely to free his feet from his boots.

"When we brought you here, we didn't account for enough food for everyone"

The other robed figure stepped in front of the stage. He walked through the group of children, stopping just beyond Marcus's reach.

"What are you doing?! Don't stop! Why did you stop?! Keep coming!"

Ignoring Marcus, the figure turned away, spreading his arms wide. Instantly, a pile of various weapons materialized before him.

"Half of you must die, you have one hour. If your numbers aren't reduced by then, all of you will perish. Your time starts now." With those chilling words, both figures vanished in a column of shadow.

"No! Please, children, you don't have to do this! Hand me a weapon and I can save you!"

As his words seemed to go unnoticed, frustration built within him. 'Is this an array? Can they even see or hear me?!'

"Who's doing this?! Come forward and stop using children, you cowards!"

His gaze fixed on the young blonde boy, noticeably thinner than the others, who stood frozen, eyeing the pile of weapons with obvious fear.

Around them, many children remained motionless, torn between the weapons and their peers. A heavy silence hung in the air, only to be shattered by the soft crying of a child. Soon, others joined in, their cries filling the hall. Marcus's eyes welled up, his paternal instincts overwhelmed as his jaw clenched tightly.

Suddenly, a young girl sprinted toward the weapons pile, seizing a small sword. Whirling around, she brandished it clumsily, her voice quivering, "Stay back! Don't touch me, or I'll use this!"

Marcus stretched out his hand in desperation, "Give that to me, please. If you want protection, I'll provide it. Just... just turn around and hand me the sword!"

Screams pierced the air as the girl, eyes clenched shut, lunged forward. She raised the blade high and with a trembling hand, brought it down into the head of another.

"Nooooo!"

Chaos exploded around him as children scattered in terror—some dashed towards the walls, others onto the stage, but most rushed to the weapons pile.

"Stop! Stop!" Marcus begged, punching his legs helplessly, tears streaming down his face. "Pleeease! Don't do this!"

His face contorted in horror as the gruesome scene unfolded before him. Children, none appearing older than ten, engaged in a bloody melee—boys and girls alike, bruised and ragged, attacking one another. Blood began to pool, inching towards Marcus, who trembled violently and covered his face.

Screams and the thud of bodies hitting the ground forced Marcus to cover his ears. The blood pooling around his feet sent him into a panic, his mind chaotic, only to be snapped out of it by the familiar scream of the blonde boy.

On the stage, Marcus watched helplessly as the girl who first seized the sword charged at the young boy who was scrambling backward in a panic.

"Stop! Don't hurt him!"

The boy abruptly crawled into a corpse. Looking back, he quickly reached across the body just as the girl raised her sword. In a swift motion, he turned, dagger in hand, and lunged forward, stabbing the girl in the chest.

As the girl collapsed, every weapon in the room disappeared in a burst of shadow. The blonde boy froze, staring at his blood-stained hand, tears streaming down his blank face.

His voice hoarse, barely restraining a scream, Marcus called out, "do not look, boy! Don't look at the blood!" His gaze dropped to his own feet, partly submerged in a pool of deep crimson, "Don't look at the blood..."

Marcus stood frozen, voice lost, hands limp at his sides, his gaze locked on his blood-soaked feet. Around him, the room was littered with the bodies of children, some motionless, others sobbing or screaming—a scene of pure horror, abruptly shattered by the grating voice.

"Good job, now we can't eat with a mess like this, get to cleaning, you..." As the grating voice faded from his senses, along with the horrific scene before him, darkness mercifully began to engulf the room.

Marcus, his expression laded with grief and fury, stared into the encroaching shadows, whispering with lethal resolve, "Valdene, once I get out of this, I'm going to find you and kill you."