The next day came without mercy.

Amon had no sense of time inside the cage. There was no sunlight, no sky, only the dull glow of a mana lamp outside the bars and the constant cold beneath his body.

Metal pressed against his back, stealing whatever warmth he had left. Every breath hurt. Even breathing felt like a punishment.

His body was a mess.

Bruises layered over bruises. Half-healed cuts traced his arms, chest, and legs like cruel reminders of what had already happened.

His ribs still ached deeply, as if something inside him was cracked and grinding with every movement.

His wrists were bound tightly with metal cuffs engraved with suppressive runes. No mana flowed. Not even a spark.

He lay there, eyes half-open, staring blankly at the bars in front of him. The pain never truly left. It just waited.

Then the tent flap moved.

The faint sound of fabric shifting was enough to make Amon's body tense instinctively. His heart rate spiked. Fear crawled up his spine before his mind could even react to it.

He could guess who had come.

Footsteps came. They were slow and unhurried.

A shadow fell over the cage. Zerath stepped inside the tent.

He looked relaxed. Too relaxed. His armor was clean, his gloves spotless, as if yesterday's cruelty had been nothing more than a casual chore. His eyes landed on Amon immediately, and a smile curved his lips.

"Oh," Zerath said lightly, tilting his head. "You're awake."

Amon didn't answer. He couldn't.

'Fucking bastard!'

His throat was dry, swollen, and burning. His lips trembled despite his efforts to stay still.

Zerath clicked his tongue. "No greeting? That's rude."

He crouched near the cage, resting one arm on his knee as he examined Amon like a broken tool.

"Hm. Still breathing. Good." He stood up again. "I was worried I might've gone a bit too far."

Amon squeezed his eyes shut.

The cage door opened with a sharp metallic sound.

Zerath grabbed Amon by the hair and dragged him out without effort. Amon's body scraped against the metal bars, pain flaring instantly. He gasped, choking as he was forced upright.

"Gah!"

Before he could even regain his balance, a punch slammed into his stomach.

The air was knocked out of him completely.

Amon doubled over, coughing violently, saliva and blood dripping from his mouth as his body convulsed.

Zerath didn't give him time.

Another blow followed, this time to his side. Then a kick to the legs sent him crashing to the ground.

"Pathetic," Zerath muttered.

He grabbed Amon again, hauling him back up as if he weighed nothing. Amon's feet barely touched the ground before Zerath slammed his fist into Amon's face.

Pain exploded.

Amon screamed despite himself. Zerath laughed softly. "There it is."

Another punch. And another.

Amon's vision blurred. The world tilted violently as his body swayed, barely held upright by Zerath's grip.

Each hit came fast and precise. No wasted movement, no hesitation. Zerath knew exactly where to strike to hurt the most without killing him.

"You know," Zerath said calmly between blows, "some prisoners break on the first day."

He struck Amon's ribs again. "Some on the second."

Another hit. "You're still here."

Amon collapsed to his knees, retching, his hands shaking uselessly against the ground. He tried to curl in on himself, tried to protect what little remained.

Zerath kicked him over.

"Don't do that," he said mildly. "I hate it when you curl up."

He forced Amon back to his feet again.

Blood dripped from Amon's nose and from the corner of his mouth, staining the ground beneath them. His legs trembled violently. His vision swam.

"So?" Zerath asked casually, striking Amon across the face again. "Any thoughts overnight?"

Amon shook his head weakly.

"I… don't know…" he whispered. Zerath sighed, almost disappointed.

Another punch.

Amon cried out as pain ripped through him again. His body screamed for rest, for darkness, for anything to make it stop. His mind felt fragile, stretched thin like glass ready to shatter.

But still. He didn't speak.

Zerath grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against a metal support pole inside the tent. The impact rattled the entire structure.

"You're really wasting my time," Zerath said, his voice still calm, still controlled.

He struck Amon again. And again. And again.

Minutes passed. How much time went on, Amon couldn't tell.

Pain became everything.

At some point, Amon stopped screaming. His voice gave out. Only hoarse, broken sounds escaped him as tears slipped down his cheeks uncontrollably. Not because he wanted to cry. But because his body had reached its limit.

Zerath paused, observing him.

"…Tch."

He reached into a pouch and pulled out a familiar vial.

A healing potion.

Zerath grabbed Amon's jaw and forced his mouth open, pouring the potion down his throat. The liquid burned as it went down, spreading warmth through his body.

Bones shifted back into place. Cuts sealed. Pain dulled, but never disappeared completely. Amon gasped as his body forced itself back together. Zerath watched with interest.

"See?" he said. "I'm generous."

Before Amon could even process the relief. Zerath hit him again.

And this time asked, "Let's change the question. Answer my only one thing. That will be enough. Who killed Aziz and Vikara? The two demons caught around a week ago?"

Amon somehow grasped his words. He wondered why he was asking about those two.

Were they close to him? Were they good friends of his? Amon couldn't tell. But seeing his expression filled with curiosity and anger somehow made Amon smile.

"I-… I- I know abo-about them," Amon forced himself to say. His voice was breaking, but he still said it.

Zareth's eyes lit up. He was close to those two demons. They were his friends for more than eight years, knowing each other since a young age.

But the news of their death came to him. Honestly, he was too angry at that time. He really wanted to know who killed them, but never got a chance to find out. But now… he had a chance. This boy actually knew about it.

"Tell me, boy! Who killed them?!" he asked urgently. The anger that had vanished over the week slowly came back.

How many years they had worked for the kingdom together. Fought together. Enjoyed together.

"Hah… on-one of them was killed by… Commander Galahad Valliant."

Hearing Amon's words, he bit his lips. He knew that name. How could he not know it? He was the commander of the human forces currently on this island. But damn it. He couldn't do anything about him.

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