Chapter 134: The Art of Death
Francis and the Soul Drinkers stepped into the twisted and chaotic streets of Gamon.
The buildings on both sides of the street seemed eroded by some kind of morbid malice, with crooked walls emitting eerie light and a pungent smell, as if the whole city were trembling with depravity.
On the street, a group of naked Dark Aeldari were entangled in a frenzied struggle, their laughter high-pitched and hollow, their movements exaggerated and utterly shameless. When they saw Francis, who was a Blood Actor, they all respectfully made way for him.
Francis glanced at them, then coughed lightly. "You can try covering your eyes, ears, nose, and mouth, and experiencing that wonderful feeling purely through touch."
After saying that, he continued walking forward, and the Dark Eldar behind him soon raised their voices even louder. "Ahhhhh... This is amazing... I can't take it anymore... Ahhhhh..."
At that moment, a young Eldar suddenly approached Francis with a sly smile on his face and a vial of potion emitting a green glow in his hand. "Sir, would you like to have some fun?" He grinned, revealing sharp teeth.
Francis shook his head and swung a Butcher's Nail into the opponent's head.
The moment it struck home.
"Aaaaaaahhhhhh!"
"What did you do to me? What is this?"
"Aaaaaaahhhhhh!"
The eldar youth's body twisted into a ball, his long limbs spasming, his hands tightly gripping his head, as if trying to tear the unbearable pain out of his body.
"Kill me! Kill me!"
"Ahhh... My pleasure... My pleasure is gone!"
He knelt on the ground, gripping his scalp tightly with both hands, his fingernails digging deep into his skull, tearing flesh and blood away. Finally, he pounced on Francis like a wild beast, letting out a hysterical roar.
Francis then smashed the other man's head with a backhand.
At the moment his head exploded, the eldar youth's face suddenly lit up with an incredibly excited smile, and he let out his final gasp.
"Awesome..."
The surrounding Dark Eldar, witnessing this scene, looked at Francis with a mixture of fear and reverence.
"As expected of a master, he really knows how to play the game!" one whispered.
"I really want to experience it too..."
"This is too exciting! I couldn't even finish watching it!"
In their view, although death comes at a price, if it's incredibly pleasurable, then dying isn't so bad.
However, Francis said nothing, only leaving them with a handsome back view. He soon arrived at the Society of the Flesh and Blood Prophets, where the doors slowly opened, revealing a sight that was both repulsive and captivating.
Francis remained composed, his steps firm, as he passed through the busy flesh-and-blood craftsmen and the struggling experimental subjects. The air reeked of rendered fat and alchemical bitterness. Deep within the hall, Euryn Lacas's figure gradually came into focus.
He was standing in front of an operating table made of blood and bone, holding a strangely shaped scalpel, the blade gleaming faintly. His body was connected by countless biomass and mechanical links, and the tools embedded in his arms shimmered with the light of the warp, captivating all who looked at them.
"Resurrect your comrades, find the people outside! Can't you see I'm busy? Get out!" Euryn raised his head, revealing a furious expression, but his eyes were filled with endless madness.
Ever since he saw Soul Drinker No. 1, he had been holding back, wanting to create something even more monstrous than that thing. However, he still hadn't succeeded to this day. Was he destined never to be more perverted than that person in his life?
As Euryn fell into thought, suddenly,
Francis and the Soul Drinkers all revealed their hundred eyes and quickly exposed dozens of arms. Each arm was adorned with sophisticated control gloves that shimmered with a faint light.
Psionic control!
"What's going on? I can't move! What do you want from me? Who are you?" Euryn's voice rose in panic.
"President! We can't move!" The Bloodwalkers around shouted, their terror palpable.
The silence was heavy and suffocating.
All the Bloodwalkers around were under control, and as for the slaves, if anyone dared to move, they were instantly wiped out by explosive guns.
"Who are you? Why does your attack method look so familiar? It reminds me of an old friend." Euryn's gaze swept rapidly across the scene, but he found himself and the others completely unable to escape the oppressive atmosphere. He had no choice but to admit defeat.
"No need to remember, I am someone from the past!" Francis grinned, which sent Euryn's blood pressure soaring. He had fallen twice with the same technique on the same person.
"What do you want? Didn't we have a pleasant collaboration last time?" Euryn was still struggling, but unfortunately, the next second, Francis broke all four of his limbs with methodical precision. Bone snapped like kindling.
It would have been better if Euryn hadn't said anything, because his words only made Francis angrier. Francis grabbed him by the collar and roared.
"I asked you to investigate, but you just led the demon into my house. Tell me, shouldn't I ask you for some compensation for emotional distress?"
Euryn: "..."
How could he answer? Euryn felt a sense of frustration, like "my crotch is covered in mud, even if it's not."
"You can't blame us, we had something watching us from above, we didn't want that either!" Euryn's voice cracked.
Francis sighed and continued, "Well, I'll take the loss; you can work for me for ten thousand years."
Euryn: "..."
"Of course, you can refuse. In that case, how about I throw you into the labyrinth of the Lord of Debauchery?" Francis continued his threats, his tone flat but menacing.
Euryn stood ramrod straight, a hint of disdain flashing in his eyes; he seemed to have no intention of yielding to Francis's threats.
"Hmph! Impossible! Unless I die! A free bird will not have its wings bound."
Francis frowned slightly. In truth, he hadn't intended for the other party to agree immediately; it was a matter of seeking favors. He paused, then spoke again.
"Then, I'll make a more practical request. Summon the Blood Spirits from other witch guilds that you think have good skills, and I'll release you, how about that?"
Upon hearing this, Euryn raised an eyebrow.
"Don't think I don't know you'll never let us go! I know my own race all too well! Greedy, despicable, shameless, and lewd, their words are utterly untrustworthy! If another race said this, I might believe it!"
Francis: "..."
He casually pulled out a vial of blood and then transformed back into a human. His form shifted, bones crackling, skin rippling until a human face emerged.
Euryn froze, his eyes wide with disbelief. His lips trembled slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but for a moment, he couldn't utter a sound.
A moment later, he finally realized what was happening, and the look of astonishment on his face quickly turned into anger.
"Despicable! Shameless!" Euryn pointed at Francis and roared, his voice filled with resentment. "You cunning human, how dare you use such tricks to deceive me! Is this your true nature?"
Seeing Euryn's defenses crumble, Francis shrugged and then said. "Didn't you just say that any other race would be fine? I'm human now, so you agree, right?"
Euryn was trembling with rage, his voice growing increasingly shrill, as if he wanted nothing more than to pounce on Francis and tear him to pieces. "Humans are the most despicable! Don't even think about it! Go ahead and kill me if you dare!"
Francis remained calm, tilting his head slightly as if examining an object. "Don't worry, if I really want to kill you, I will definitely cremate your corpse completely, and you will never be able to come back to life. Or I could throw you into the labyrinth of the Lord of Debauchery and let you vanish into nothingness."
Upon hearing this, Euryn's heart skipped a beat. How could the other party know their weaknesses so well? Humans were indeed terrifying.
Seeing that Euryn remained defiant, Francis sighed and spoke slowly. "Why are you forcing me? Why bother... I remember that the Blood Spirit had to pay an excruciating price every time he was resurrected. If he didn't absorb other souls in time, his own soul would become less and less until he could no longer be resurrected."
Upon hearing this, Euryn frowned, sensing that something was amiss. "What do you mean?"
Francis didn't speak; instead, he began designing machines. His hands moved with precision, moving between various materials and components. In no time at all, he finished making it.
He stared expressionlessly at a newly completed device on the table.
The device exuded an unsettling aura, its entire body constructed of dark gold metal and blood-red tubing, its surface engraved with intricate runes that shimmered with the glow of the warp.
The core of this device is a poison gas machine embedded with huge chunks of flesh, connected to a smooth, crystal-like resurrection chamber. The two are connected by a twisted tube, like a biological spine, as if some strange life force is slowly flowing through it.
"This is..." Euryn spoke with difficulty, his voice hoarse, as if his throat was blocked. His soul constantly warned him, and his body groaned; he had never seen anything so bizarre.
Francis did not answer, but instead grabbed a corpse from the lab table and threw it into the shredder.
The machine roared to life instantly, and the massive chunk of meat began to spew out strange gases.
The resurrection chamber then began to operate, the liquid inside emitting an eerie glow, and the skeleton of a Dark Eldar gradually grew, followed by muscles, blood vessels, internal organs, and hair.
"Aaaaaaahhhhh..."
"I can't take it anymore!"
"I've cracked!"
The entire process was accompanied by the agonizing screams of the soul, as if the soul was being torn apart repeatedly in exchange for a chance to be resurrected.
The newly resurrected corpse gasped for breath, its eyes filled with terror, but before it could even scream, the flesh would once again release an incredibly foul stench, causing the corpse to die an agonizing death from the stench.
The entire process was slow and incredibly arduous, with the resurrection chamber repeatedly piecing together the dead lives. Each cycle stripped away another fragment of essence.
"The poison gas here was created using some of the most pungent creatures in the galaxy, including but not limited to Gulch, Skaven, and Orcs." Francis gestured toward the machine, his voice steady and clinical.
"I can guarantee that this kind of poison gas is absolutely the smelliest and most unbearable. It won't kill you immediately, but it will make you struggle constantly."
"Then after each incredibly painful resurrection, you will lose a sliver of your soul, until finally your soul disintegrates and you can no longer be resurrected." He turned back to face Euryn directly, his expression unreadable.
"Would you like to give it a try?" At this point, Francis smiled kindly again, and Euryn understood the true meaning of terror.
[End of Chapter]
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