Imagination Paralysis

Countless stones of various sizes floated in the air. They were hurled at the people from the outskirts, who were paraded toward the royal palace. Of course, getting hit by these stones was incredibly painful.

Booza could only lift both arms to protect his head. This was extremely difficult since his hands were still bound by chains.

"Arrgh!"

His scream rang out as a stone the size of a grown man's fist struck his ribs. More stones followed, hitting his arms, legs, and temple.

The same thing happened to the people in front of and behind him. Everyone screamed in pain. One of them collapsed after being struck in the head by a large rock. He lost consciousness—perhaps he was even dead.

Not long after, two, three, up to five others met the same fate. They fell to the ground, unconscious. This made it even harder for Booza and those still standing—they had to drag the limp or lifeless bodies of their fallen comrades.

Blood began to stain the path, leaving behind a red trail and a metallic stench.

"Move it!" barked a soldier who paid no attention to the chaos unfolding. None of the soldiers cared—they turned their gazes away and continued calmly on horseback.

More and more people collapsed, unconscious. Booza kept going, though his body was weakening. The stones kept striking him. The cheers of satisfaction echoed loudly—city dwellers celebrated the suffering before them like a festival.

A second later, the man behind him collapsed, falling face-first into the dirt. His condition was horrific—his face drenched in blood. Whether he was unconscious or dead, Booza didn't know.

Naturally, this pushed Booza further into despair. He had to pull the chain harder so the man's body behind him would be dragged along.

Unluckily, Booza could no longer use his arms to protect his head. He had to swing both hands from back to front to drag the man along his steps.

Now, he could only walk hunched over, struggling to endure the torment. But the pain and exhaustion were becoming unbearable. Slowly, his strength faded, and his knees could no longer support him. His vision blurred, darkened, and shut. He collapsed forward, arms lifted by the chain being pulled by the man ahead of him.

---

Pain coursed through every inch of his body. His bones felt shattered, his skin torn to shreds—it was agonizing. Booza, clenching his teeth through the pain, slowly regained consciousness. He had survived the torture.

His eyes opened slowly to a white ceiling and a bright light above. He groped around—just a small cot. Gripping its edge for support, Booza tried to sit up.

"Where am I now?"

Now upright, Booza realized he was only wearing shorts, and his entire body was wrapped in bandages like a mummy. No surprise there—he was covered in wounds from the stone assault.

His eyes scanned the room. It was a partitionless space filled with small cots, each occupied by someone in a similar state—bandaged head to toe.

They were all people from the outskirts who had come with him. Only 25 of them remained.

"Did the other 25 already die?"

Suddenly, a transparent cyan screen popped into his mind.

[Loading System]

[You have survived death]

Endurance: 17 → 22+

Booza didn't pay much attention to the magic system. Instead, he chose to stand and walk around the room. The large man walking in front of him earlier had survived—he was asleep across from Booza. The man behind Booza also made it—he was sleeping near the window.

Booza walked to the window. About 500 meters away stood a magnificent palace—the Royal Palace of Luzia, where Queen Caterine II resided.

On that quiet night, Booza saw several guards patrolling the palace. They carried long spears and looked alert to the faintest sound or movement.

"Where are we now?" asked a man who had just woken up. Booza turned around and saw the man sitting up, clutching his aching head.

"I'm not sure, but we're within the palace grounds."

Booza could vaguely sense the thoughts of the others—three people nearby. All were in pain. One suddenly jolted awake, eyes wide as if from a nightmare. The other two followed, sitting upright on their cots.

Seeing the condition of himself and his companions, Booza began to question the queen's true intent behind staging this massacre. Especially since they were tortured with a barrage of stones while chained and unable to defend themselves. A queen should never have allowed something like this to happen.

This was humiliation. Booza and the others had their dignity trampled. But even if they fought back, there was no chance of winning. The queen was surrounded by knights and mystic warriors of Elite and Supreme rank.

Like Yonvi Virosta, her loyal bodyguard—rumored to be a knight of Supreme level. His swordsmanship was both elegant and lethal. Anyone who faced him usually ran. He was known as a cold-blooded killer. To him, death was inevitable—but only after prolonged torture.

Right now, Booza couldn't accept this treatment—but he could do nothing. All he could do was obey orders and undergo the military training provided. He hoped his combat skills would soon improve, and that his magic would finally awaken to its true power.

Booza walked back to his cot. One thing was clear—he needed rest. Only by resting could his body recover.

"What do you want?" asked the large man across from Booza.

"I just want to rest. Tomorrow will surely bring more surprises. We better recover while we can," Booza replied, lying on his cot. He felt a bit more comfortable, though pain still lingered across his body.

In the silence of the room, the sound of approaching footsteps suddenly echoed—not just one person—several.

"Someone's coming," a man near the door whispered.

Everyone, including Booza, became more alert. After everything they'd endured since morning, they kept their eyes fixed on the door. Their gazes were sharp—ready to strike if it was an enemy.

The door slowly opened. From behind it stepped Yonvi Virosta. He was followed by Queen Caterine II, who greeted them with a gentle smile on her lips.

"Why are they here?" Booza muttered in fear as he saw Yonvi Virosta. That man truly exuded a terrifying aura.