Reborn in Blood: The Trials of a Leech. Book 2 - Bloody War

The demons’ fear was palpable, their eyes fixed on the chair as if it were a harbinger of imminent doom. Their concerns were valid, for the chair’s dark reputation preceded it, instilling dread in even the most formidable of beings. With a somber expression, I addressed their apprehensions, acknowledging the chair’s grim history as an instrument of torment and death. “This chair,” I began, my voice carrying a weight of caution, “holds powers beyond comprehension, shaped by the will of those who seek dominion over the elements. Pain that will keep me alive in the future.”

The Fire Imp, its flames flickering nervously, spoke up. “But what of its dangers, Master Leon? We have seen its wrath, its thirst for pain. It has taken and broken the souls of powerful demons before. Even two Arch Demons lost their lives when they were caught and put into this chair.”

I nodded solemnly. “We tread a perilous path,” I conceded. “But I have survived once before locked in this chair for over a month my first time, with caution and vigilance. The chair is a tool—a dangerous one, yes—but with proper control and understanding, I can turn its destructive potential into a shield that grants me the ability to fight against powerful elemental users who wield my race's weaknesses.”

The Shadow Imp, its form flickering in the dim light, seemed to consider my words. “We trust in you, Master, but don't die because if you do we will have to go back to that place,” it said, its voice a whisper in the cavernous chamber.

With a determined nod, I approached the chair, the crackling energy responding to my proximity. "I will proceed with care this time, I will not be locked into this chair until its timer runs out again,” I affirmed, settling into the seat. The blue lightning wove around me, merging with my essence as I braced myself for the surge of power and knowledge that awaited.

As I sat in the chair I looked at the menu and began to set it up for use. I set a new safeword and looked at the options for resistance training on the chair. I saw three options, one was fire, two was lightning, and the third was both fire and lightning. Thinking about it carefully I chose the third option to maximize my training time and started the chair. Seeing as I had no resistance against lightning the chair started me at Stage 1 Level 1.

The moment the chains locked around me, injecting their mysterious fluids, a surge of searing pain shot through my veins. I gritted my teeth, determined not to show weakness in front of the demons who watched with cautious eyes. The chair's interface glowed with arcane symbols, reflecting the combined power of fire and lightning that now coursed through me. The pain wasn't as bad as the first time I had done this but the lightning made it harder since I wasn't used to that element.

As the fluids worked their arcane alchemy, a cacophony of sensations assaulted my senses. Fire and electricity intertwined in a chaotic dance within me, each element vying for dominance. It was as if my very essence were being tempered in the crucible of primal forces, reshaping my being in ways I could scarcely comprehend.

Minutes stretched into eternity as the chair worked its arcane wonders. Sweat dripped down my brow, mingling with the fluids that seeped into my skin. The demons' hushed murmurs echoed in the chamber, a backdrop to the primal symphony playing out within me.

As the cycles of agony and transformation continued within the chair, each level pushed my limits to the breaking point and beyond. Fire and lightning, elemental forces that once threatened to consume me, were slowly becoming extensions of my being. The pain, though still excruciating, melded with a growing sense of resilience born from countless sessions in the chair. Level after level, I delved deeper into the crucible of fire and lightning. The chair's interface hummed with arcane energy, responding to my will as I navigated the intricate pathways of resistance training. But with each ascent to a new level, the intensity of the lightning surged, testing the very limits of my endurance.

Level 7 marked a turning point, where the crackling currents threatened to overwhelm my senses. Rather than risk irreversible harm, I made the conscious decision to pause, to repeat the level until my body adapted to the elemental onslaught.

Days blurred into weeks within the underground confines of my transformed sanctuary. The demons, ever watchful, stood witness to my trials, their respect tempered by the ordeal they knew I faced daily. The chair, once a symbol of torment, became a crucible of self-mastery, a testament to my unyielding determination to harness the forces that once threatened to destroy me. It was a path of sacrifice and perseverance, but one that promised unparalleled power and the ability to safeguard against the deadliest of adversaries. And so, within the shadows of my underground domain, I embraced the agony.

The demons, once familiar with the sight of their leader embarking on daring quests and battles, now found themselves witnessing a different kind of spectacle—the relentless endurance of their master in the face of excruciating torment. They watched in awe and trepidation as Leon, day after day, subjected himself to the merciless throes of the torture chair. Whispers spread among them like wildfire, tales of a master who did not flinch in the presence of pain but embraced it as a path to unparalleled power. The chair, once a symbol of dread and agony, now became a stage where their leader pushed passed mortal boundaries, delving into realms of resilience and fortitude that bordered on the true monsters.

At first, there were murmurs of concern, doubts about the sanity of a being who willingly courted such suffering. But as days turned into weeks and weeks into months, a profound respect began to take root in their hearts. It was not just the power he sought—it was the unyielding determination, the unbroken spirit that resonated with their primal instincts. Many were ashamed of themselves for being afraid of using the chair to strengthen themselves just like their master who was just a child, how could demons who have lived for hundreds of years be afraid of pain and suffering?

Some demons, emboldened by curiosity or perhaps a hint of madness, dared to approach the chair during breaks in Leon's trials. They would touch the cold metal, feel the crackling energy, and shudder at the thought of enduring what their master faced daily. Fear mingled with reverence, for they saw in Leon not just a leader but a paragon of willpower, a force that defied the very laws of suffering.

The demons, accustomed to chaos and destruction, found themselves in the presence of a spectacle that even they struggled to comprehend. As Leon delved deeper into the abyss of pain and power within the torture chair, their fear mingled with a profound sense of dread. The crackling flames and searing electricity that enveloped their master seemed like an inferno of torment from which no mortal could emerge unscathed.

Whispers of concern echoed among the demons, their eyes wide with a mixture of horror and fascination. They had witnessed their master's unwavering resolve time and again, but this was a trial that tested the very limits of endurance, even for a being as formidable as Leon. One demon, driven by a rare moment of empathy and concern, dared to approach, hoping to offer solace or aid to their suffering master. But the chair, infused with unimaginable energies, rebuffed the demon's touch with a violent force, sending a clear message of danger and death to any who dared interfere.

The female demon, struck by the backlash of soul-rending energy, crumpled to the ground, her form wracked with agonizing pain. It was a pain beyond the physical—a torment that clawed at the essence of her being, leaving scars that no healing magic could mend.

I commanded them to refrain from touching the chair while I was using it, as it may end up killing them, a chilling reminder through the demon ranks. They understood, perhaps for the first time, the magnitude of what their master was enduring and the dangers inherent in such pursuits of power. Something that demons feared Soul damage and their master was undergoing this torture without even screaming in pain. The female Gnasher barely even touched him and was wailing in pain as her body lay there unable to move.

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As Leon reached the pinnacle of Stage 3 Level 9, an achievement marked by months of relentless pain and unyielding determination, murmurs among the demons grew curious and hopeful. They saw their master's endurance as a beacon of power, a path they too wished to tread. Approaching Leon respectfully, one of the demons voiced the collective query, seeking permission to utilize the chair after his session. Leon, perched upon his throne of bones, his gaze reflective yet steely, considered their request. Understanding the potential risks and rewards, Leon imparted a solemn warning to the demons, his voice carrying the weight of experience and hardship. He detailed the intricacies of using the chair safely, highlighting the dangers of overestimating one's limits and the consequences of mishandling such potent forces.

Under Leon's watchful eye, the demons took turns utilizing the chair, each session a test of willpower and resilience. Some embraced the challenge with fervor, their ambition fueled by the promise of newfound strength. Others approached with caution, wary of the unknown perils lurking within the chair's torturous embrace.

As the days passed and the demons cycled through their training, Leon observed their progress with a mix of pride and vigilance. He knew that empowering his allies would ultimately strengthen their collective force, a crucial advantage in the ever-shifting landscapes of power and conflict.

As the days turned into weeks and then months, the underground base became a crucible of transformation and growth. The demons, inspired by Leon's example, delved into the grueling regimen of the chair, each seeking to harness its powers and emerge stronger. Leon, now a stoic figure overseeing their trials, witnessed their struggles and triumphs with a keen eye. Some demons, fueled by ambition and a hunger for power, endured the torment with gritted teeth and unwavering resolve. They emerged from the chair's trials with newfound abilities and enhanced strengths, their loyalty to Leon deepening with each passing day.

Others, however, underestimated the chair's merciless nature. Despite Leon's warnings and guidance, a few succumbed to its brutal tests, suffering injuries and setbacks that served as stark reminders of the chair's unforgiving nature. This caused me to rush to the chair to turn it off before the chair broke them like it did me.

Through it all, Leon remained steadfast in his role as mentor and leader. He adjusted training schedules, provided counsel on managing pain and fatigue, and delved deeper into his understanding of the chair's arcane workings. His resistance to pain and enhanced control over elemental forces grew, a testament to his unwavering dedication. As the demons could teach me things I didn't know, I taught them of pains that they could never have dreamed of.

After completing the grueling quest and enduring the torments of the chair, Leon finally reaped the rewards promised by the Arch Demon of Blood. Six free points, tokens of power and resilience, awaited his choice to enhance his abilities. As he pondered over where to allocate these precious points, his gaze fell upon his Vit, the very essence of his endurance and survival. Doing this also helped me deal with all the pain that the chair caused. Not to mention that gaining a Rare Lightning Resistance skill did also help.

Reaching Stage 4 Level 1 of the chair's training regimen marked a significant milestone for Leon, but it came at a heavy cost. The excruciating pain he endured threatened to overwhelm him, pushing his body and mind to their limits. As he grappled with the torment, another unexpected consequence emerged—a dark aura emanating from the chair, exerting crushing pressure on everything within its vicinity, affecting not just physical bodies but also souls. Causing everyone near Leon who didn't have an aura to feel a part of the pain I felt. The demons cried out in pain as they fled away from Leon due to the pain they felt. Fear was plain as they watched while hiding far away in different rooms.

The aura's effect was palpable, a suffocating weight that bore down on both demons and surroundings alike. It was a stark reminder of the dangers inherent in pushing the boundaries of one's abilities, especially through such extreme means as the torture chair. Despite the agony and the ominous aura, Leon's determination remained unbroken. He saw this as the price to pay for greater power and resilience, traits vital for his survival and ascent in the chaotic world he inhabited. Leon's determination knew no bounds as he pushed himself further, spending an astonishing 29 hours in the chair without respite. The cycle of agony and endurance repeated incessantly as he tackled the same level repeatedly, each iteration pushing his limits to the breaking point and beyond. Time became a blur, marked only by the relentless progression of pain and the unyielding drive for power.

For Leon, the hours merged into a continuous struggle against the searing pain and the overwhelming pressure of the chair's training. Sweat mingled with the occasional droplets of blood, a testament to the physical toll exacted by his relentless quest for strength. The demons, ever watchful, could only marvel at their master's resilience even as concern etched lines of worry on their faces.

As the relentless torment finally abated, Leon found himself adrift in a haze of exhaustion, his senses dulled by the lingering echoes of agony. Every fiber of his being cried out for respite, a reprieve from the ceaseless ordeal that had consumed him for days on end. With faltering steps, he made his way from the chair's oppressive confines, his movements slow and labored. The demons, ever vigilant, watched in silence, their expressions a mixture of concern and awe. They knew better than to disturb their master in such a state, recognizing the need for solitude in the wake of such a grueling trial.

As Leon retreated to the solace of his chambers, the weight of his exhaustion bore down upon him like a leaden shroud. Collapsing upon his makeshift bed, he surrendered to the embrace of sleep, his body seeking refuge in the oblivion of unconsciousness. Hours passed in the quiet solitude of his chamber, the world outside fading into the background as Leon's weary mind drifted into a realm untouched by pain or suffering. In the depths of his slumber, he found a fleeting sense of peace, a sanctuary amidst the chaos that surrounded him. As he slept he dreamed about his father and mother again but this time they seemed to only be watching me. Which seemed odd since when Leon lived on earth they never acted that way. Calling out to them they fell lifeless into the darkness.

Leon's dream changed once again, the time where he watched as his mother was violated and killed as he watched unable to move or even close his eyes. Anger swelled up within Leon's chest and he tried to break free of whatever was holding him still. The bastards hearing the moving of Leon turned to look in the direction of the noise and as he was turning Leon's mother began to fight back against the men. She palmed a piece of broken glass and used to cut off the tool used to make her suffer. Hearing the commotion behind him the soldier turned just in time to see what was happening and deciding it wasn't worth losing his men he shot and killed Leon's mother. Not wanting his underling to die he picked them up and threw them into their car.

Leon's Struggles only increased as he tried in vain to try and break free to save his mother thinking that she might still be alive. But sadly for Leon, she was killed instantly with one bullet to the head.

The Dream changed once more this time changing to the time Leon's father found him buried under the rubble of stone and wood. Seeing his wife lying dead on the floor clothes ripped and torn he screamed and cried. Swearing to anyone who heard him that they would all die and if he couldn't he would do anything for someone who could. Hearing his father Leon woke up and began to struggle calling out to his father asking if his mother was still alive. Leon's father heard his son and ran over and started throwing the rubble off of Leon trying to save him. After removing all of the rubble he saw that his son's left leg was all cut up deep from the rubble being removed. Not wanting his son to die as well he ran to get some medical supplies. Once Leon was free he crawled over to his mother and tried to wake her up saying he was sorry he wasn't able to protect her. Once Leon was above her he looked at her face in horror as half her face was gone with her covered in bruises and most of her bones broken sticking through her skin.

By the time Leon's father had made it back with the medical supplies he saw his son holding his wife crying. Leon's father picked up his son and took him to a different area of the house. Once in the kitchen he sat Leon on the table and began to treat Leon's wounds. All the while Leon cried saying it was all his fault that he wasn't able to protect Mother.

Leon's father after treating his son hugged him and said it wasn't his fault and that mommy was in a better place now where she was watching over us. This helped calm down Leon a little bit and he continued to shed tears while hugging his father tightly.

The dream changes once again this time to the screen where his father dies after hiding him. Leon and his father had been sneaking from house to house staying low and quiet. Leon's Father told him that now was not the time for tears and he would need to push down his emotions so they could get away and survive. Leon did his best even if he was unable to fully control himself and his emotions, but being so young his mind protected him by blocking out most of what happened, so it was bearable for now.

After it started getting dark both Leon and his father were so close to getting out of the town since the underground bunker was nearby and it had tunnels that led in all four directions with an old railroad cart that could be used to escape on it just needed to get there first. Opening the door to a back alley they continued to sneak along the way. However, fate had different plans once again because once they had reached the entrance Leon's father peeked inside and looked at the light to see if the bunker was found. And the light was red meaning that either the bunker and the tunnels were destroyed or the soldiers had taken over the underground. Leon at the time did not know what was happening since they tried so hard to get just to turn away.

As they made their way to the last way out, that's when we heard dogs barking coming towards us. Hearing this Leon's father picked up his son and ran as far as possible. But the dogs were getting closer, seeing no choice now Leon was placed into a house where the corpses of the townspeople were dumped. Leon's father hugged Leon one last time before hiding him under the corpses of the dead. And to mask the smell of his son he covered Leon in the blood of the rotting corpses. Before he left he told Leon he loved him and to survive because he would come back for him soon.

That was the last time Leon saw his father alive. Because after he left the building soldiers saw him exit and dogs chased after him. All Leon could hear before the explosions were this is for my wife and son you sick bastards. Buildings all around the town were blown up taking half of the soldiers' lives. After the explosions, gunshots could be heard right outside the exit where Leon's father went out.

Leon stayed there under the corpses for 8 more hours before crawling from out under the bodies. Once he exited he saw his father completely ripped to shreds.

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The nightmares clawed at his mind, dredging up memories he had long tried to bury. The loss of his parents was a wound that time had not fully healed, a wound that festered in the depths of his subconscious. Rising from his bed of leaves, Leon steeled himself against the lingering specters of the night. He had a goal, a purpose that transcended his past pain. The nightmares only fueled his determination to become stronger, to master the forces at his command, and to carve out a place of dominance in this tumultuous world.

Leon's vow echoed through the cavernous chamber, a solemn oath fueled by the embers of vengeance that smoldered within him. The memory of his family's suffering was a relentless flame, driving him forward in his pursuit of power and retribution. As he trained tirelessly, his mind often wandered to thoughts of justice and vengeance. Each strike, each spell cast, and each command given was a step closer to the strength he would need to fulfill his vow. The demons under his command watched in awe and perhaps a tinge of fear as their master's determination burned brighter with each passing day.

The chair, once a symbol of pain and endurance, had become a throne of resolve for Leon. It was a constant reminder of the sacrifices he was willing to endure to achieve his goals. The aura that emanated from him now was not just one of raw power but also focused purpose, an unyielding drive that set him apart from others.

The hours stretched into days as Leon persisted, the aura of power around him growing more palpable with each passing moment. As the levels continued to increase in power and pain the demons watched in awe and a hint of trepidation, witnessing their master's metamorphosis into a being of unfathomable strength and will.

In the depths of his torment, Leon found clarity. The pain was not just physical; it mirrored the anguish of his past, the loss of his family, and the injustices of his former life. But instead of breaking him, these trials forged his resolve like tempered steel, shaping him into a force to be reckoned with. The chair hummed with arcane energies, channeling not just pain but also a raw, unbridled power that surged through Leon's veins. His body adapted, his senses heightened, and his mind sharpened to a razor's edge. Each level conquered brought him closer to a transcendent state, one where mortal concerns paled before his indomitable will.

The dreams of vengeance and retribution fueled Leon's sin of Wrath, its power swelling with each surge of anger and hatred that coursed through him. Amidst the tumult of his emotions, the chair and his grueling training served as the only anchors, tethering him to reality and providing a semblance of control. With each session on the chair, Leon channeled his rage into the agony of the ordeal, using the pain as a conduit to harness his inner fury. The torment became a crucible, refining his wrath into a potent force, honing it like a weapon waiting to be unleashed upon his enemies.

In the depths of his subconscious, the flames of vengeance burned bright, casting shadows that danced with the specters of his past. The faces of those who had wronged him, the memories of loss and betrayal—they all fueled the inferno within him, stoking the flames of his wrath to ever greater heights. But amidst the storm of his emotions, Leon clung to a shred of control, knowing that succumbing entirely to his wrath would mean losing himself. Father and Mother always said that those who controlled their emotions could do things nobody else could making the impossible possible.

Leon's descent into the depths of his wrath had not just altered his demeanor but had transformed him into a force to be reckoned with, a being of dark and malevolent power. The coldness that gripped his heart seeped into every aspect of his being, turning his once fiery wrath into a chilling, methodical cruelty that spared nothing in its path. The chair, now a symbol of his mastery over pain and suffering, had etched its mark upon Leon's soul. The torturous trials had not just honed his physical resilience but had tempered his mind into a weapon of unparalleled darkness. Visions of vengeance danced in his dreams, each night a canvas upon which he painted the demise of those who had wronged him. As he awoke each day, Leon's eyes burned with an intensity that seemed to pierce through the very fabric of reality. His commands to the demons were no longer requests but cold directives that brooked no hesitation. They watched in awe and fear as their master's power grew, the aura of darkness around him palpable, suffocating.

But it was not just his enemies who felt the weight of his wrath. Even the demons under his command walked a thin line, for Leon's newfound darkness spared no one from its touch. Failure was met with a cold fury that sent shivers down the spines of even the most hardened creatures of the underworld. The throne of bones, now adorned with the essence of his wrath, radiated an aura of death and despair. Those who dared approach it felt the chill of oblivion creeping into their souls, a stark reminder of the power that resided within Leon's grasp.