My Evil System



". . ."

Against all odds, Faz's face didn't change. Hers was still a mask that I couldn't decipher.

She then looked over at the ceiling, but the longing in her eyes told me that she wasn't really looking at the vaulted cement.

"I am . . . rotting away here . . . ," she uttered, not really looking at anything and not really seeing anyone.

Faz's voice resonated with a mix of bitterness, resignation, and a trace of vulnerability. Her words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of her suffering and the realization of the eternal imprisonment she had endured.

Her gaze shifted away from the pentagram, her eyes focusing on some distant point beyond the confines of the chamber. It was as if she were lost in a memory or a longing for freedom that seemed unattainable.

"I am . . . rotting away here," she repeated, her voice carrying a profound sense of despair. "Days blend into nights, years into centuries. Time becomes a cruel joke, mocking the very essence of my existence."

There was a flicker of sadness in her eyes, a flicker that revealed the depths of her loneliness and the longing for something more. She seemed detached as if trapped in her own thoughts, not really seeing the physical world around her or acknowledging the presence of her captor.

"I thought all that mattered was my life," she murmured, her voice tinged with regret. "But I have come to know that being held captive for centuries is a fate worse than death. Every passing moment, I feel pieces of myself withering away, my spirit fading into obscurity."

Her words carried a profound sense of loss as if she had witnessed the decay of her own being over countless years. The toll of her confinement was etched on her face, a mask that hid the true extent of her suffering.

In the silence that followed, the chamber seemed to echo with the weight of Faz's words. The flickering torches cast long shadows, adding to the somber atmosphere.

As Faz turned her gaze towards me, her face transformed into a smile — a smile that seemed at odds with the anguish and despair that had clouded her features just moments before. It was a sad smile, tinged with vulnerability, almost as if it threatened to crack the carefully constructed façade she wore.

"Very well then," she spoke softly, her voice carrying a mix of resignation and a glimmer of hope. "If you can free me from this wretched place if you can shatter the chains that bind me and grant me a chance at freedom, then perhaps . . . perhaps I am willing to take a gamble."

Her words hung in the air, pregnant with uncertainty and the weight of the unknown. Faz's willingness to entertain the possibility of liberation, despite the risks and uncertainties that lay ahead, spoke volumes about the depth of her desperation and her desire to escape the confines of her eternal prison.

A moment of silence passed, filled with anticipation and a lingering sense of consequence. I met her gaze, feeling the weight of responsibility for the decision I was about to make.

"It's a deal, then," I responded, my voice steady but laced with a hint of trepidation. "I will release you from your captivity, break these chains that have bound you for far too long. But know this: in exchange for your freedom, I will require your servitude. There will be tasks and obligations that you must fulfill."

Faz's eyes narrowed slightly, her sad smile holding a touch of wary acceptance. She understood the terms, the cost of her liberation. The gamble she was taking was not just for freedom but also for a new form of captivity.

She nodded her expression a mix of determination and approval. "So be it. Free me, and I shall honor our agreement. The chains may be broken, but true freedom is not easily gained," she muttered the last sentence in a low voice.

As Faz fell into a contemplative silence, I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the task at hand. My eyes locked onto the glowing pentagram etched into the ground, its symbols radiating with otherworldly energy.

With a sense of anticipation, I reached into the depths of my storage, my fingers brushing against vials and jars containing a myriad of magical concoctions. Among them, I found the carefully crafted [Sealbreaker Serum], a potion specifically brewed by Dementia for the purpose of dispelling potent pentagrams. The vial emanated a faint glow, hinting at the immense power contained within.

Dementia had assured me of the serum's potency. Her words echoed in my mind, both reassuring and slightly unsettling. The smirk on her face hinted at hidden depths of knowledge and a wicked sense of humor that only she possessed.

<For fifty players, it should be. Kekekeke>

I hope so, or this whole thing would be for naught.

Uncorking the vial, a surge of energy and the scent of rare herbs filled the air, arousing my senses. The liquid within shimmered, shifting in hues of iridescent blue, pulsating with a magical aura. The very sight of it ignited a flicker of hope within me as I held onto the belief that this [Sealbreaker Serum] held the key to Faz's liberation.

Carefully, I approached the pentagram, my heart pounding in anticipation of the serum's effectiveness. With a steady hand, I poured the potion onto the glowing symbols etched into the ground.

As the liquid made contact, a sizzling sound filled the chamber, accompanied by wisps of ethereal smoke that rose from the pentagram's surface.

The [Sealbreaker Serum] worked its magic, its potent blend of arcane ingredients reacting with the mystical energies of the pentagram. The symbols trembled under its influence, their once vibrant glow dimming as if overwhelmed by the surge of power that coursed through them.

A crackling sound filled the air as the pentagram began to fracture, lines of shimmering light appearing along its edges. The [Sealbreaker Serum] exerted its influence, eroding the intricate connection between the symbols, gradually weakening their hold on Faz's confinement.

Yosh!

This was good news!

<Dementia is very useful. Aren't Host glad that you let her live?>

Of course, I am. And who said that I should kill her in the first place, hmm . . . ?

<I don't know what you're talking about>

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