Read Novel Full Chapter 614: Minced Meat
Chapter 614: Minced Meat
Mika’s scream tore through the realm as the blade carved through his spine.
Charlotte could also hear it—the sickening crunch of bone, the wet tear of tissue, the way his voice cracked and splintered like glass.
Marcus pulled the knife out and brought it down again.
PACHUK!
And again.
PACHUK!
And again.
PACHUK!
Each strike was accompanied by Mika’s screams, each scream growing more ragged, more broken.
“ARGHHHHH!!!!!!”
His body was being reduced to pulp, his organs spilling across the table in a grotesque display of violence.
“SCREAM FOR ME!” Marcus howled with laughter. “SCREAM LOUDER! SHOW ME HOW LONG YOU CAN LAST!”
Chop!
“AHHHH—”
Chop!
“AGHHHH—!”
Chop!
Charlotte watched it all.
She had stopped trying to intervene. What was the point? Her hands passed through Marcus like smoke. Her voice couldn’t reach him.
She was a ghost in this nightmare, powerless to do anything except witness.
So she watched.
She watched as Marcus peeled the skin from Mika’s chest in long, careful strips.
She watched as he broke each of Mika’s fingers one by one, listening to the bones snap with an expression of rapturous delight.
She watched as he opened Mika’s abdomen and rearranged his organs, narrating the process like a lecturer demonstrating a medical procedure.
And through it all, Mika screamed.
“AHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!”
But he never begged. He never pleaded. He never asked for mercy. Even when the pain was so intense that his voice gave out completely and his screams became silent, he never once broke.
“You’re amazing.” Marcus said, stepping back to admire his work.
“Absolutely amazing! I’ve never had a toy like you before. All my others broke so quickly. But you—”
He leaned down and pressed his forehead against Mika’s.
“—you’re going to last me a very, very long time.”
Mika’s body was no longer a body.
It was a pile of meat on a table. His torso had been reduced to ribbons. His organs were strewn across the surface like grotesque decorations. His bones had been shattered into fragments.
But he was still conscious.
Still screaming.
Still alive.
“Please…” Charlotte whispered, her voice so broken it was barely audible. “Please stop…I-I’ll do anything. Anything…Please just stop hurting him.”
Marcus paused, his blood-soaked face turning toward her. For a moment, something flickered in his eyes—pity, perhaps, or understanding.
Then he smiled.
“I’m sorry, Lady Charlotte. But I’m not done with my new toy yet.”
He snapped his fingers.
Mika’s body or what was left of it disappeared. In its place, a new, perfect, untouched body lay on the table. Whole limbs. Unblemished skin. A chest that hadn’t been carved open like a pumpkin.
Mika’s eyes widened as he looked down at himself.
“What—”
“Welcome back.” Marcus said cheerfully. “Shall we start again?”
“No—no!” Charlotte’s scream was primal. “You can’t! You can’t!”
But Marcus’s knife was already descending.
And Mika’s screams began anew.
—
The cycle repeated.
Marcus would carve. Mika would scream. Marcus would reset. Mika would scream again.
And again.
And again.
Charlotte stopped counting after the tenth reset. Or the twentieth. Time had lost all meaning. All she knew was the rhythm—the thud of the knife, the crack of bone, the scream of the boy she loved.
At some point, she stopped crying. Her tears had run dry. Her voice had given out. All she could do was sit there, hollow-eyed, watching the love of her life be destroyed and rebuilt and destroyed again.
—
It was only after what felt like an eternity that Marcus finally stumbled backward, his chest heaving, his face flushed with exertion.
Sweat dripped from his brow and mingled with the blood that spattered his once-pristine white shirt.
His golden eyes, though tired, still blazed with manic excitement.
“Incredible!” He gasped between breaths. “Absolutely incredible! I’ve never…I’ve never been exhausted from torturing someone before!”
He straightened up slowly, wiping a smear of blood from his cheek with the back of his gloved hand.
“I thought I had experienced everything life had to offer! Every pleasure! Every sensation! Every possible thrill this existence could provide!”
He looked at Mika and his smile widened into something that bordered on religious ecstasy.
“But who would have thought? Who could possibly have imagined that the universe still had surprises in store for me?!”
“A toy that doesn’t break! A plaything that endures! A victim who can take everything I dish out and still keep fighting!”
He threw his head back and laughed—a wild, unhinged cackle that echoed through the library and bounced off the endless shelves of books.
“It’s like the gods themselves delivered my ideal birthday gift! I’ve been given a present that I can play with forever!”
His laughter subsided into a contented sigh.
“I’m already making plans, you know. So many plans. There are so many things I’ve always wanted to try but never could because my toys would break too quickly.”
“But with you…”
He leaned down and patted Mika’s cheek with patronizing affection.
“With you, the possibilities are endless.”
Mika lay on the chair in perfect physical condition.
His body had been restored to its pristine state—not a single mark to indicate the hours of unspeakable torture he had just endured.
But this exterior was a lie. A cruel deception.
Because his eyes told the truth.
They were weak. Hollow. Haunted. The vibrant light that usually danced in those dark irises had dimmed to a faint, flickering ember.
His hands, though physically perfect, trembled against the restraints. His breathing was shallow and ragged.
He looked like a soldier who had survived a war but had left some essential part of himself on the battlefield.
Marcus picked up the knife once more, twirling it between his fingers with practiced ease.
“Well then, shall we begin round—”
He stopped.
His eyes narrowed. Something shifted in his expression—a flicker of awareness, of realization.
“Ah.” He lowered the knife and checked an invisible watch on his wrist. “Well, look at that. It seems my time here is already over.”
He sounded genuinely disappointed.
“I’ve been enjoying myself so thoroughly that I completely lost track of time. Hours passed like minutes. Can you believe it?”
He chuckled, shaking his head.
“But unfortunately, duty calls. I have a job to do in the real world—investigating those terrible Terror Face Murders, showing the public that their hero is working tirelessly to catch the culprit.”
He winked at Charlotte, who was still frozen on the floor, her eyes wide and unblinking.
“After all, the people need their Lightning Deity. They need to see Marcus Williams, the brilliant detective, burning the midnight oil to solve this tragic case.”
“How disappointed they would be if they knew their Hero was actually the one causing all those deaths.”
He turned back to Mika, and his expression became almost tender.
“You know why I haven’t touched your head the entire time? Why I’ve been so careful to preserve this handsome face of yours?”
He reached out and stroked Mika’s hair with the back of his fingers.
“It’s because I wanted to see your reactions.”
“Every twitch…
“Every grimace…”
“Every flicker of agony in those defiant eyes…”
“If I ruined your face, all of that would be gone. There would be no window into your suffering.”
He sighed, a sound of genuine contentment.
“But don’t worry. Tomorrow, I’ll give your face the attention it deserves. I’ll make sure this part of your body doesn’t feel left out.”
He straightened up and gave Mika a small, mocking bow.
“Well then, good night for now, my precious toy.”
He turned to Charlotte, who hadn’t moved from her position on the floor.
Her eyes were glassy, unfocused. She looked like a doll whose strings had been cut.
“And good night to you as well, Lady Charlotte. I’ll see you both tomorrow!”
He walked out of the library with a triumphant spring in his step, closing the door behind him with a soft click.
—
Mika watched him go. And in that moment, his tired, haunted eyes transformed.
The weakness vanished. The exhaustion disappeared.
In their place was something that burned with a hatred so pure that it seemed to lower the temperature of the entire room.
It was the gaze of someone who had been pushed beyond the limits of human endurance and had emerged on the other side with nothing left but the desire for vengeance.
If his restraints had been removed in that moment, there was no doubt that Mika would have torn Marcus apart with his bare hands.
He would have used his teeth if necessary. But it made sense as to why he would feel that way.
After all, today was the day Mika had felt the most pain in his entire life.
He had been torn apart when saving Astrid, yes.
He had been eaten alive in the cave with Anya, of course.
But the pain Marcus had inflicted was something else entirely. It was pain that transcended the physical and burrowed into the soul.
And Mika would never forget it.
He was already planning. Already calculating.
Already running through scenarios in his mind about what he would do to Marcus when the opportunity finally presented itself.
The vengeance he would extract. The suffering he would inflict in return.
But then he heard a soft, broken sound from the floor and slowly turned his head.
Charlotte hadn’t moved. She was still sitting on the floor where she had collapsed, her knees drawn up to her chest, her arms wrapped around herself.
Her eyes were empty. Hollow. Like windows into a building that had been abandoned.
“Charlotte?” Mika kept his voice soft. “Charlotte, can you hear me?”
She didn’t respond. Didn’t even blink.
“Charlotte, please. Answer me.” His voice grew more urgent. “What’s wrong? Can you hear what I’m saying?”
Still nothing. She just stared at the floor, her breathing so shallow it was almost imperceptible.
The truth was her mind had shut down. The hours of watching Mika be butchered—the screams, the blood, the impossible, relentless horror of it all—had been too much.
Her brain had simply stopped working, pulling the emergency shut-off switch to protect itself from the gruesome images that kept replaying behind her eyes.
“Charlotte.” Mika’s voice cracked. For the first time since he had arrived in this nightmare, he sounded afraid. “Charlotte, please. Please answer me.”
The words filled with such raw pain, such desperate pleading—finally reached her.
Her eyes slowly focused. Her head turned.
And when she saw Mika looking at her with such concern, such tenderness, the fog that had enveloped her mind began to lift.
“Mika..?” Her voice was barely a whisper. “Mika?”
“Yes. Yes, it’s me. I’m here!”
“Mika…Mika…Mika…MIKA!”
She scrambled to her feet and threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder.
His name fell from her lips like a prayer, like a mantra, like the only word that still held meaning in a world that had turned to madness.
“Mika, Mika, Mika, Mika…”
Each repetition carried a different emotion.
The first was an apology—I’m sorry for dragging you into this.
The second was grief—I can’t bear to see you suffer.
The third was fury—I’ll kill him for what he did to you.
The fourth was love—I need you, I’ve always needed you, I’ll never stop needing you.
She kept saying his name as tears streamed down her face, soaking into the fabric of his shirt. It was as if she had invented a new language where his name was the only word, the only sound that could possibly express everything she was feeling.
Mika wanted to hug her back. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and tell her everything was going to be alright.
But his wrists were still bound to the chair, and he couldn’t move.
So he just let her cry, offering what little comfort he could with his presence alone.
—
This went on for half an hour.
Charlotte cried until she had no tears left. She cried until her throat was raw and her eyes were swollen and her body had nothing more to give.
Only then did she finally pull back, wiping her face with her sleeve, and look at him with eyes that were red-rimmed but no longer empty.
“Why?” She asked. Her voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. “Why did you do that, Mika?”
He managed a small smile. “Why did I come here? I thought I already told you—”
“I’m not talking about that!”
Her voice rose, cracking with emotion.
“I’m asking why you held it all in! Why you didn’t scream! Why you didn’t let yourself show any pain!”
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