Building An Empire Starting From The Labor Camp In Exile-Chapter 139: The Wolf

Atrox’s new prison was better than the one he had in the Soryu Clan in that it had better lighting. There was a small window at the top where sunlight came in.

It was worse because he shared the room with three dead bodies. 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

Two had died on the small beds in the room, thin and dry from hunger, with chunks of flesh missing from their bodies. Atrox didn’t know if they had eaten themselves before death or if it was the work of rodents.

The third one was hugging the metal door of the prison and had died that way.

The sight made Atrox lean as far away from them as the small prison would allow. ’And why are they not rotted? Must be an enchantment worked into the prison. The same way it’s suppressing my powers’

As soon as they arrived wherever this place was, Frexon handed him over to the guards with instructions to keep him inside the prison, and he was dragged away.

The whole prison room was enchanted, so he didn’t even have the chance to try anything. Besides, his core was already dried up, and now, with the enchantments in place, he had no way of replenishing it.

’This is even worse than back then because I’ve already tasted power... To suddenly have it taken away... This is something cruel. How can I escape here without my powers? Wait... They’re keeping me alive here without killing me... That must mean something, right?’

Many thoughts flashed through his mind as he continued trying to think of a way to escape the situation he was in. But the other prisoners kept shouting, screaming their lungs out, constantly distracting him.

Atrox guessed they must be relatively new prisoners. He wanted to shout at them to stop, to save their energy for something else, but instead, he shook his head. ’They’ll learn. But seriously, what’s with prisons and starving people?’

Suddenly, he heard the loud clanging sound of a metal door opening and shutting, followed by two sets of footsteps echoing in the room. The prison immediately fell silent, and the prisoners shoved themselves away from the bars.

"Seriously, I hate coming in here. I don’t like it when my power gets suppressed like this," a familiar voice said—Frexon.

A rough voice, like the grinding edge of a stone, responded, "Then you can become like me, a prison warden worked into the prison enchantment."

Frexon’s voice dripped with disgust. "I’d rather stop being a proud member of the Mystic Order."

The voices and footsteps drew closer to Atrox, who sat cross-legged with his eyes closed, as if meditating. Shadows loomed over him, and he heard Frexon say, "He’s the one."

Atrox opened his eyes and looked up. As expected, Frexon was standing there, but beside him was another man. A short, crude man with a face that seemed to have been smashed in and rejoined at some point. His teeth were disjointed, giving him a permanent sneer.

But his eyes... They were alight with cruelty and malice.

The way he seemed so happy to see Atrox made him shudder.

"This one? I like the light in his pretty green eyes. I can’t wait to see them go cold and dull as he begs me for mercy that I won’t give," the man said, his black-stained tongue flickering out to lick his lips.

Even Frexon shivered, taking a step away from the man. His reddish eyes found Atrox. "Welcome to the forefront. You are welcome to the Scuffed Bones."

He leaned closer to the bars. "I have only one question to ask you before I throw you to the wolf, if you don’t answer, that is."

"I never really liked that name," the man called Wolf said.

Frexon smiled tightly. "A question from the Flagbearer. Atrox of no Flag, who are you working for? What is backing you?"

Atrox sighed, resisting a groan. ’Shit. It’s this type of question where they’ve already made up their mind but are now looking for a name to slap on their imagination... They’ll never believe that I’m not working for anyone... And is that a torturer?’

"I’m not working for anyone," Atrox said flatly.

Wolf chuckled. "Good, good. Resist all you want! It will only make this artist create more art. Do you like the three pieces of art in that room with you? The perfect blend of starvation, their bones beneath their flesh!"

Frexon shook his head. "You’re sick, Wolf. Just tell me, Atrox, or I’ll just let him do what he wants."

Atrox shook his head. "I’m not working for anyone. How about this, let me talk to him."

Frexon blinked. "Him?"

"The Flagbearer."

Frexon stared silently at him for a while, then turned away, waving dismissively. "Do what you want, Wolf. Just get the answer for me and don’t take long about it. The Flagbearer wants it now."

The silence that followed was broken only by Frexon’s footsteps and the clanging of the door.

Wolf smiled at Atrox. "I like strong, stubborn people like you. With such strong will. It’s always fun to watch them struggle under my blades. So fun to see the hopelessness creep into their eyes. No one is coming to save you.

"Your only salvation is to hope my blade slips and cuts your throat. But that won’t happen—it never does. I am the best torturer on Eros; none can ever claim to be better than me. And do you know why? Why? I always get my answers!"

Atrox was so stunned he opened his mouth and just stared. Never in his life had he ever heard someone brag about something like this before.

But then again, he couldn’t claim to have met many torturers.

Wolf cleared his throat, then spread his cloak to reveal the different torture instruments set in place. He took a small knife, cut his palm, and watched as blood dripped down. "Do you know why I love this room?"

As they both watched, the blood on his palm stopped, and his flesh began to heal.

Wolf giggled. "I’m the only one who can use magic! The only one who can heal."

Atrox felt a chill run down his spine, and despite himself, his heart began to race.

Wolf stopped smiling and frowned. "I’m missing something... Ah! A chair!"