Killed Me? Now I Have Your Power

Daela sat there, expressionless, but the pain she was going through was something no mundane human being could even begin to fathom.

Her right hand had been severed entirely, and clearly without any care, there were still chunks of flesh dangling from the wound, dried blood crusted like an old, forgotten painting of agony.

Her left leg, too, had been cut, starting at the knee and done with obvious brutality and merciless intent.

Her entire body was torn, slashed in so many places, and so deeply, that even a mundane eye could see her bones peeking through the broken flesh.

It was… atrocious.

It was the kind of sight that could break a soul, the kind of torture that shatters even the strongest of minds—but Daela…

Daela didn't cry. She didn't whimper. She didn't beg for mercy.

She remained silent the entire time, even as her body was torn apart for information—or worse, for pure pleasure. Even her expression never changed, not once.

And that's why,

"I truly loathe you, Daela Warborn," a voice suddenly echoed through the cell, making Daela slowly lift her eyes and glance toward the steel door.

There stood a woman with long blue hair and matching eyes. She was tall, almost six feet, with long legs and thick thighs that would have caught any man's gaze, clad in a tight dress of deep blue with white lotus patterns clinging to her body sinfully.

She was Selene Cerveau, one of Brain's closest agents.

She looked at Daela with disdain, with loathing, the kind of emotion that can only exist when someone's mere existence irritates you to the bone.

And for Selene, it was quite simple why she loathe her.

It was Daela's eyes.

She looked at her mutilated state—her broken body, her missing limbs—and still, even after all that, Daela looked at her as if she wasn't even worth a speck of dust. As if she was…

Nothing.

"Do you think you're better than me, huh?" Selene asked, voice cold as she stepped into the cell, completely unaffected by the infernal heat, thanks to the invisible barrier surrounding her body.

A barrier Daela could never replicate, not when she was shackled with mana restriction chains so tight and cruel they made breathing feel like chewing on glass.

At her question, Daela didn't respond, just like always.

Selene wasn't surprised. Daela hadn't spoken once since her capture. Not during torture. Not during interrogation. She just stared… with apathy, at her, at the world.

But today… today Selene was determined to make her speak…and she already had an idea.

She crouched beside her, meeting her gaze directly.

"I've looked into your mind, Daela Warborn," Selene said softly.

Daela didn't flinch.

"I expected secrets. Maybe information about the Warborns—dungeons, hidden bloodlines, even the reason why someone like you, with that broken brain of yours, can still stand at our level. I expected all that, but…"

Selene smiled. It wasn't friendly, it was dangerous.

"…but I only found one thing. Or rather, one person. One person so deeply embedded in your thoughts that everything else was drowned beneath him."

She paused, her voice dropping to a blade's edge.

"Care to guess who that person was?"

And this time… Daela twitched.

It was subtle. Barely there. But Selene saw it and her grin widened like a cut opening across a corpse.

"Who would've thought," she whispered, "that the great and infamous Princess of Apathy would love her little brother so much… so obsessively much… that it almost didn't look like love between siblings."

Her eyes narrowed as her words grew more venomous, more surgical, until…

"Makes me wonder, what would the world say about that? Or better yet… what if I went to visit Kaden myself?" she said, tilting her head thoughtfully, pretending to consider it—knowing full well the provocation she was throwing into the fire.

And then…

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMM!!!

A deafening explosion tore through the cell as Selene was flung backward, her body slamming into the red steel bars with such force they shook and rattled wildly like a cage holding back a monster.

The entire room was suddenly drenched in a heavy, oppressive red—so thick it looked almost solid. Behind Daela, two twin swords appeared, flickering madly, vibrating as if fighting to manifest into reality despite the restrictions binding her.

Cough. Cough.

Selene coughed violently as the air around her thickened with such dense killing intent she could barely breathe. She raised her head slowly… and when she saw Daela's face, her still expressionless eyes, her entire body shuddered in instinctive dread.

Daela's face hadn't changed.

But beneath that cold apathy… was something darker.

There was a depth to that coldness. A purity to that killing intent. A fury so raw, so absolute, that it began to take form—solidifying into something real, something that shouldn't exist.

But before it could fully emerge,

"You little annoying human," another voice rang out. This one was deeper. Older.

And filled with so much power that the killing intent surrounding the room was forcefully, instantly dispersed.

Both Daela and Selene turned toward the new arrival.

It was a steelbeast, but not like the others.

His body was still made of steel, fire, and flesh… but this steel wasn't dull gray. It was a deep, majestic blue, with flames to match. His eyes burned with ancient wisdom, flickering like twin blue infernos that refused to die.

He stood tall, between seven to eight feet, and wore black trousers and a shirt that somehow didn't burn despite the roaring flames within him.

This was Laye, the Grandmaster-ranked beast who had captured Daela.

He looked at her, still leaking killing intent even after being suppressed, and then at the coughing Selene.

He shook his head in disdain.

"I told you to know your place," he said coldly. "This Warborn would've killed youor at the very least fatally wounded you, with just her killing intent if I hadn't been here."

He narrowed his eyes. "What did you do?"

Selene only smirked.

She knew. The Warborns might be stronger than the Cerveau in raw force… but they were impulsive. Emotional. Predictable.

'They are all fools…slaves to their emotions,' Selene thought with pure scorn.

'Not a threat at all.'

Because power without control is nothing. Power without calculation is just a weapon waiting to be used.

And that's what they intended to do.

They needed the Warborns beneath them. As slaves. As tools of war. As weapons of conquest.

And the more she looked at Daela, the more she knew…

It was possible.

Now that she'd found what triggered her, the rest would fall into place.

Selene slowly stood up.

"I wouldn't have provoked her if I didn't know you wouldn't let me die," she said with arrogant calm, before turning to Laye, her voice dipped in threat.

"After all, you wouldn't want the wrath of my Lord on you."

And with that, she turned and walked out of the cell.

But then—

"I will kill you… I will kill all of you if you touch him…"

Daela's voice.

It echoed coldly, clearly, filled with the chill of death itself.

Selene just smiled.

"You have a sweet voice, Daela Warborn. But now I wonder…"

She paused, eyes glinting with sadistic curiosity.

"…what does his voice sound like?"

And with that, she vanished into the underground corridors, heading back toward the surface, her mind racing with the secrets she would report, with the weapon she now believed she could build from Daela's mind.

But the moment her foot touched the edge of the surface—

A pair of hands grabbed her face.

Fierce. Merciless. Fingers gripped her mouth with so much force it felt like her jaw might shatter.

Then…

A voice.

A voice so drenched in anger and bloodlust that Selene's very blood churned wildly, erratically, like it too wanted to escape her body in fear.

A voice that didn't whisper,

It pronounced.

"Didn't you want to hear my voice?"

A voice laced with death…

…in its purest form.

—End of Chapter 105—