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Chapter 232 – Everything Gets Darker
Slowly pushing open the glass door, Jason led the group inside the triangular building, which appeared to be the dining area of the shelter. What greeted them was the smell of food, with long tables on either side, chairs, and a cafeteria-style window built into the wall, filled with cooking supplies.
Jason ignored it and kept walking forward, opening one of the double doors on the right—just as Sam had told him moments ago. Inside was a long hallway with many doors on both sides. He randomly opened one and saw several beds and small tables—clearly the sleeping quarters for the people who had lived here.
Continuing further in, they came to a large iron door at the end of the hallway. Looking at its joints, it was clear the door had been replaced recently by someone. There were torches mounted on either side of it. At first glance, it looked like a medieval dungeon.
Beyond the iron door was a spiral staircase that led directly down. Jason reached for the torch hanging on the wall, opened the door, and descended first.
As they went down the stairs, the brightly lit basement came into view, its illumination provided by open flames.
The spacious basement was divided by iron fences. On the left and right sides were cells, one after another. In the center, a large fire basin lit up the entire space. Inside each cell crouched a man in the corner, his face full of fear as he looked at them.
Each prisoner was filthy, dressed in dusty clothes, with both shallow and deep scars on their faces and bodies.
At the far end stood a cross, and bound to it with five-point restraints was a man whose body was covered in bruises and wounds. Dried blood coated him—it was obvious he had been tortured for quite some time. Hanging nearby were various torture instruments. The area had a cold bluish tone, and bloodstains marked the floor tiles, impossible to scrub out. No one knew how many lives had ended there.
"Brother—my little brother!"
As soon as he entered the basement and saw the scene before him, a man named Santiago could no longer contain himself. He broke away from the group, looking into every cell and desperately shouting his brother's name.
Kenny and the others clenched their fists tightly at the sight, their eyes full of rage.
"These bastards are real artists when it comes to torture—just look at what they did to these people!" Unlike the others, Jason walked calmly along the welded bars, brushing his fingers over them. He secretly thought these people were quite skilled at interrogation—they even built a damn prison down here.
"Ian!"
"Damn it, what did they do to you, brother!"
After checking multiple cells but failing to find anyone else they recognized, Lee ran to Santiago's side. Inside the cell where Santiago knelt was a man crucified, with nails driven into his hands.
Santiago, still among the group, instantly recognized the man as his brother.
Upon hearing his cry, Kenny and the others snapped out of their shock and rushed over.
Santiago gently stroked Ian's cheek inside the cell. Feeling the coldness of his brother's body, his heart sank. He reached out to check for a pulse and breath—but both had long since stopped.
Santiago looked at Ian, then back at the others running toward him, and said with deep sorrow, "He's already dead."
"I always knew they were looking for something. The place they were most likely to find who they were searching for was the military base... but I didn't expect them to be kidnapped by this damn cult. Anyway, you'd better check carefully if there's anyone else you recognize—we might still be able to save them." Jason, watching the grief-stricken group, knew he didn't have the time or resources to heal all these people.
According to what Sam had told him, this outpost belonged to Teddy's cult. What surprised Jason most were the injuries inflicted on the people in these cells—it was clear the cult was trying to extract something from them.
As the others hurriedly searched the cells, Jason turned to Daniel and said, "Go find the keys to the cells. They should be nearby."
"Alright!" Daniel nodded, grabbed a torch from the brazier, and headed to the other side of the basement.
"Grishia!"
"Doug!"
"Christa!"
The basement echoed with people shouting names, calling into the cells. The sound was so intense, even Jason's ears hurt.
Jason looked at them all and felt nothing—he didn't know these people. He was only helping them to find out what they knew about what had happened here.
"I... I'm here!"
Just as Jason was deep in thought, a faint voice called out from the neighboring cell. Startled, he turned his head to look—and saw a very weak person lying face down in a pool of blood. It was impossible to tell whether they were male or female, and none of those shouting could hear the whisper clearly.
Jason turned to a woman named Carley and the others, saying, "Hey, come see if this is the person you're looking for."
Hearing that, several people rushed over and looked through the iron bars at the figure lying inside. Their faces lit up in shock and joy as they shouted the name Dung in unison.
Daniel, who had just returned with the key, saw their reaction and understood immediately. He quickly moved forward and unlocked the iron door.
"Dung, how are you feeling?"
As the chain came off, Carley opened the iron door and ran in, hugging Dung's body tightly. "Where are the others? Where did they go?"
"You... finally made it,"
Dung, his face covered in bruises, barely opened his swollen eyes. Through the haze, he saw the familiar faces before him. Tears slipped from the corners of his eyes. Raising a trembling hand, he pointed to another cell and said with difficulty, "He... they're next to me. We didn't tell those lunatics anything. They... they want to destroy the world."
Hearing that, everyone immediately looked to the neighboring cells and saw two more motionless figures lying there. The stench of blood was unmistakable.
Carley trembled all over. She quickly passed Dung to Kenny and stepped toward the next cell.
At that moment, Daniel had already unlocked the door. Seeing her approach, he stepped aside and walked over to Jason.
"The plan's changed. Things aren't as simple as they seemed. We can't let that man, Dung, die. He knows something we don't." Jason frowned. "Open all the cells. We need to get everyone out of here and assess the situation."
Watching his teammates reunite in sorrow and relief, Jason lost interest in the moment. He patted Daniel on the shoulder, looked around at the surrounding cells, sighed, and said, "Only eight cells. Over thirty people were locked up in this death trap... It's incredible some are still alive."
"I'll send in a team. I want that guy Dung alive—and I want to know what the hell is going on with this cult."
As Jason stepped outside the building, a cool summer breeze brushed his face. From a distance, he saw Daniel approaching, dragging two people—beaten, their noses bruised and faces swollen.
After tossing them toward the crouching crowd, Daniel said, "Auron, four more tried to escape. The others had to kill two who wouldn't stop."
Just as he finished speaking, the two wounded men crawled back toward the group. Jason couldn't hear what they said, but the crouching survivors suddenly became agitated.
Several older men and women stood up at once. One middle-aged woman sprinted forward, tears in her eyes, screaming hysterically at Jason: "Go ahead, kill me too! If you killed my son, you're going to rot in hell, you son of a bitch! You'll burn in the flames!"
With the woman leading the charge, the rest of the crowd found their courage, shouting and crying out all at once. The surrounding soldiers raised their weapons, ready to shoot if ordered.
Bang!
Seeing the scene unfold, Jason frowned. These people clearly didn't understand what it meant to be prisoners. He drew a pistol from his waist and fired a shot into the air. Looking coldly at the crowd before him, he said flatly: "You'd better shut your mouths."
At the sound of gunfire, silence fell instantly. Most people in the crowd met Jason's cold eyes, as if waking from a dream, and quickly crouched back down—fully aware of their situation.
Their minds were clouded. Under the threat of being questioned, they confessed to anything asked of them.
Only a small group remained standing, glaring at Jason with hatred, unmoved.
"Sam."
"Yes?"
Jason looked at the ones still standing, thought about the information he'd gotten from Dung, and the torture scene in the basement. Many of the people killed by his men were probably their family members.
A murderous gleam flashed in his eyes. Narrowing them slightly, he said slowly, "I want that man ready to talk. As for the rest—get rid of them quietly."
"Understood."
Receiving the order, Sam curled his lip in contempt, raised his weapon without hesitation, and said to the standing survivors, "Then please, come with me."
As he spoke, he smashed the butt of his weapon into the most vicious middle-aged woman, knocking her to the ground.
Watching blood pour from her forehead, Sam showed no mercy. He grabbed her neck without emotion and dragged her forward.
"Ahhh!"
"Move!"
Sam raised his weapon, glaring coldly at the few survivors who still stood hesitantly in place. The calm expression he usually wore was gone—replaced by something much darker.
Faced with guns aimed at them, those few didn't dare stay any longer. One by one, they followed. They had heard what Jason said: they'd be let go without being killed. So the ones who had been kneeling stood up as well—except for the man Jason had chosen to keep.
"You killed my son! I'll never forgive you! I curse you to hell! Burn in hell!"
The middle-aged woman, now being dragged away, snapped out of her daze. Her eyes burned with hatred, and she fought wildly, screaming curses. Though she was dragged off, her screams still echoed.
"Crazy old woman..."
Watching them leave and hearing her bitter curses, Jason shook his head in scorn.
Now that hatred had taken root in the hearts of these people, even if they seemed insignificant to him, he knew: as long as they had the will to fight, they wouldn't stop. And he had no intention of letting them live like before.
It was better to kill all your enemies—sooner rather than later.