Starting out as a Dragon Slave-Chapter 132: Anger Leads to Hatred

Marc stared intensely at Isaac, struggling to contain the boiling frustration and anger that threatened to overflow at any moment. After several hours of relentless beating, he realized that he would achieve nothing through conventional methods. The man facing him was resistant to physical pain, his glowing, unwavering eyes silently mocking him with each blow delivered.

The inspector clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white. Sweat beaded on his temples, his short breath betraying his growing despair. He suddenly stood up, gave a sharp signal to his masked assistant, and abruptly left the room, leaving Isaac alone in the damp darkness.

A few minutes later, Marc reappeared, accompanied by two technicians pushing a heavy metal cart. Isaac slowly raised his head, his exhausted gaze still vibrating with cold anger. His orange pupils burned like two embers, dimly illuminating his face, deformed by the blows.

On the cart was a strange machine, bristling with thick cables ending in metallic electrodes. A sinister device, of a disturbing matte black, emitting a slight electrical hum. Lemaire fixed Isaac with a cold, merciless smile, and slowly approached.

- "You chose this path, Isaac," he whispered in a low, icy voice. "I warned you. Now, you will talk, or you will experience suffering you never imagined could exist."

Without waiting for a response, he signaled the technicians to install the electrodes. They approached quickly, placing the cold metal plates on his temples, chest, arms, and legs. The icy contact of the electrodes made the young man shiver slightly, but his face remained closed, impassive, his eyes still defying Marc with that same cold glow.

Marc moved toward the machine, observing Isaac with a mixture of unhealthy satisfaction and impatience. He made a slight gesture with his finger toward one of the technicians.

- "Turn it on," he ordered coldly.

The technician flipped a switch, and immediately the machine emitted a dull hum, growing more and more intense. Isaac felt a slight vibration run through his body, barely perceptible at first, then increasingly vivid. A shiver of apprehension ran down his spine, but he gritted his teeth, ready to endure once again.

Marc Lemaire leaned slightly toward him, his eyes shining with visceral hatred, with fierce determination to get what he wanted.

- "Last chance, Isaac," he whispered coldly. "Confess now, or feel what true pain is." fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com

Isaac said nothing. He held Marc’s gaze, his face frozen in an expression of silent defiance.

- "Very well," said Marc, almost murmuring, as if to himself. "You asked for it."

He signaled the technician to increase the intensity.

Instantly, an electric shock tore through Isaac’s body with indescribable violence. The pain was lightning-fast, inhuman, infinitely worse than anything he had known until now. It was as if a thousand burning needles were being pushed into each of his nerve endings, as if each muscle fiber was being slowly torn out, one by one, by incandescent claws.

An involuntary scream escaped him, his throat burning under the intensity of the cry. His muscles contracted violently, the veins in his neck swelled with the effort, his fists clenched so tightly he felt his nails pierce the skin of his palms. But he couldn’t stop screaming. The pain was too intense, too deep, like liquid fire running through his veins.

Marc, facing him, observed the scene with an impassive face, without the slightest emotion, without the slightest compassion.

- "Confess, Isaac!" he shouted, covering the young man’s screams. "Confess that you are a murderer! Confess now, or this will continue again and again until you beg me!"

Isaac tried to respond, but the words remained stuck in his throat. He was overwhelmed, crushed under the pain. Yet, somewhere within him, in the depths of his soul, something was stirring. A dark, creeping force, born of this extreme suffering. A pure, brutal, irrepressible hatred.

With each second, each new electric shock, this rage strengthened. It swelled in his chest, like a creature lurking in the shadows, a hungry beast patiently waiting for its time. The physical pain was atrocious, almost unbearable, but it fed this anger, made it more intense, more powerful.

Marc, frustrated by the lack of response, signaled to increase the intensity again. A new shock, even more terrible, struck Isaac. His entire body arched under the violence of the electricity, his joints cracked, his jaw clenched to the point of nearly breaking.

Isaac gritted his teeth so hard they grated, his pupils now blazing with devastating rage. He felt his mind wavering, close to breaking, but this deep anger still anchored him to reality, giving him a reason to hold on, to resist at all costs.

Marc leaned toward him again, his face distorted by anger and despair.

- "Talk!" he shouted, his face a few inches from Isaac’s. "Talk now!"

Isaac, his lips trembling from the pain, slowly raised his head, looking Marc straight in the eyes, his voice weak but charged with terrifying intensity:

- "Never."

The response echoed in the room like an ultimate, implacable challenge. Marc stepped back, his breath taken away by fury. He now understood that he would never get what he wanted by these methods. But he was too committed, too desperate to retreat.

- "Continue," he ordered the technicians, his voice trembling with contained rage. "Increase it further."

The pain returned, always more intense, always deeper. But Isaac did not yield. His rage grew with each second, with each electric shock, each scream he struggled to stifle. This dark, merciless anger slowly invaded his entire being, gradually transforming him into something else, something more dangerous, more powerful.

The pain continued to wash over Isaac, each new electrical wave more brutal, more merciless than the previous one. His entire body arched violently under the shocks, his muscles extremely tense, his veins pulsating on the surface of his burning skin. His voice had died out, stifled in his throat, his screams reduced to simple hoarse growls, barely audible.

But something in him had changed.

This anger, first born of pain and powerlessness, had mutated. It was no longer just an emotion; it was now a cold, dark, icy force, slowly crawling through his veins like an insidious poison. A pure, visceral, devouring hatred that was gradually erasing all traces of empathy or compassion in him.

Isaac’s thoughts became dark, swirling in his mind ravaged by suffering. He saw again Akane’s face, her confident smile, her last words whispered in an ultimate breath of hope. Her wish so naive, so pure, so desperate: to save humanity. Isaac felt a wave of disgust suddenly overwhelm him. Save these humans? Save those very ones who tortured him without mercy, who condemned him without evidence, who laughed at his suffering and were determined to break him?

His mind, already on the edge of breaking, wavered even more. The images flashed before his eyes like an infernal kaleidoscope: the hateful faces of the journalists, the contemptuous looks of Lazarus’s hunters, the inhuman coldness of the soldiers who had arrested him. All of this sickened him, fueled this cold hatred that was inexorably growing in his chest.

Perhaps Akane had been wrong. Perhaps humans didn’t deserve to be saved. Perhaps Belgaroth was right, after all. Why was he suffering like this for these cowardly, petty, cruel beings, incapable of seeing beyond their own fear?

His incandescent pupils now burned with an almost demonic intensity. Isaac felt this beast within him, this dark monster fed by suffering, grow with each second. It waited patiently, lurking in the shadow of his battered mind, waiting for the right moment to spring forth and unleash all its accumulated anger.

On the other side of the room, Marc Lemaire continued to observe Isaac, his gaze both triumphant and desperate. His entire career rested on these confessions, on this truth that he was trying to extract by all possible means, even those far exceeding the limits of legality.

Yet, around him, the technicians seemed increasingly nervous. Their furtive glances betrayed a growing discomfort, their trembling hands now hesitating to operate the controls of the infernal machine. They exchanged anxious looks, aware that they were going far beyond the bounds. One of them finally whispered in a hesitant, almost inaudible voice:

- "Inspector... I think we should stop... this is going too far."

Marc turned violently toward him, his gaze burning with uncontrolled fury.

- "You will continue until he talks!" he shouted, slamming his fist on the table beside him. "I don’t care if it’s going too far. Continue, or you will bear the consequences!"

The technician paled, hesitated for a moment, but finally lowered his eyes, ashamed, before reluctantly turning the potentiometer again. A new wave of pain, worse than the previous ones, went through Isaac. But this time, Isaac didn’t scream. He simply gritted his teeth, his face clenched by unspeakable suffering, his eyes still fixed on Marc with an eerie, glacial determination.

Marc held this gaze for a moment, but finally looked away, disturbed by this supernatural determination emanating from the prisoner. An icy shiver slowly crept up his spine. Something in Isaac had changed, something dangerous, merciless.

Isaac, for his part, barely felt the physical pain anymore. It was just a distant echo in his mind now filled with absolute, icy, limitless hatred. He despised Marc, despised these cowardly technicians who blindly obeyed immoral orders, despised this corrupt Bureau of Hunters, despised all of humanity for its weakness and cruelty.

He thought again of Akane, of the wish she had expressed with such purity. Part of him desperately wanted to honor that promise, to realize that dream for her, to save these humans despite everything they were subjecting him to. But another part, darker, more powerful now, was growling inside him with a cold and merciless voice.

Why save these beings who aren’t worth it? Why protect those very ones who take pleasure in destroying him?

Isaac, slowly, felt this dark part definitively take over. His gaze, now completely cold, shone with an icy, implacable glow. Yes, Akane had wanted to save humans, but Isaac was now seriously beginning to doubt that they deserved such a sacrifice.

The hatred grew even more, slowly, inexorably, like a dark tide invading his entire being, gradually engulfing him. His mind wavered, torn between his promise to Akane and this terrifying new truth that was imposing itself upon him.

Marc, unaware of this silent transformation, continued to shout his orders, to push the technicians ever further, desperate to obtain these confessions. He did not see that in trying to break Isaac, he had in reality just forged something infinitely more dangerous, an icy hatred, an unshakable determination to destroy everything in his path, an implacable force that would stop at nothing.

The beast in Isaac’s heart, this dark and monstrous force, was now waiting for only one thing: to be released, and to unleash itself upon the world that had engendered it.