Read Novel Full Chapter 629: Burnt Piece Of Meat
Chapter 629: Burnt Piece Of Meat
The moment Charlotte heard the word “bonfire” a cold alarm seized her heart.
“Bonfire?” She shouted, her voice cracking with desperation. “What bonfire are you talking about?!”
But Marcus didn’t even glance at her. He simply nodded, and immediately, a group of well-dressed servants scurried forward with armfuls of timber logs.
They began stacking the wood beneath the stake, arranging it in careful layers around Mika’s feet.
Charlotte’s pupils shrank to pinpoints.
“No.” She breathed. Then, louder, desperate: “NO, NO, DON’T YOU DARE! I SWEAR TO GOD, DON’T DO THIS! DON’T!!!”
She threw herself at the nearest servant, trying to push him away, but it was useless.
The man didn’t even acknowledge her existence.
Even these the waiters and attendants serving the gala were far from innocent victims.
They were minor officials, low-ranking bureaucrats, and ambitious climbers who craved Marcus’s favor, desperate for a taste of the debauchery enjoyed by the elite.
They couldn’t pull the strings in the high-society circles, but by stacking the pyre, by serving the monsters, they felt like they were part of the inner ring.
“Please, I beg you!” Charlotte’s voice broke as she grabbed at one servant’s arm. “I’ll give you anything! Anything you want! Just stop! Mika has suffered enough! He’s just a boy! He’s just a child!”
The servant shook her phantom figure off without meeting her eyes.
The wood pile grew higher and higher. Until it formed a proper pyre at Mika’s feet.
Then Marcus stepped forward, torch in hand.
Charlotte had no choice. She threw herself at his feet, her pride crumbling to ash.
“Please…I beg you, Marcus! I apologize for everything I said earlier! I take it all back!”
She wept, her frame shaking violently.
“I won’t say anything bad about you ever again! I’ll never talk back! Please just let Mika go! Let him down right now! J-Just—look at him!”
She gestured frantically toward the stake, toward the skinned, ruined body that hung there.
“He’ll die if you keep this up! He’s barely holding on! Please, just let him off!”
Marcus paused, looking down at her crumpled form. And then, slowly, gracefully, he crouched down to her eye level. His lips pulled back into a slow, dark sneer that made her blood run cold.
“And…why the hell should I care about that?”
Charlotte froze. The words hung in the chilly air, freezing the breath in her lungs.
“The whole point of doing all of this…” Marcus continued, his tone chillingly conversational. “..is to break you down. To get to you.”
“So why on earth would I care about a filthy brat who refuses to break?”
Charlotte’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. Her mind went completely blank, paralyzed by the sheer, unadulterated apathy in his eyes.
Marcus let out a soft chuckle at her stunned silence before standing back up. He turned his head toward the dark sky, checking the massive, floating clock that hovered near the terrace.
“No…we can’t delay this any longer.”
Marcus announced, his voice carrying over the silent garden.
“This sacrifice must happen before the stroke of midnight! We have only a couple of minutes left!”
He turned around, holding the burning torch high into the air, facing the sea of demons gathered around the banquet tables.
“ARE YOU READY, EVERYONE?!” Marcus shouted, his face lit with fanatical energy. “ARE YOU READY TO WELCOME THE NEW YEAR?!”
The crowd went absolute wild.
“Yes! Do it, Marcus!” The news reporter roared, her face face twisted in excitement. “Burn him!”
“Light him up!” A duchess shrieked, clutching her diamond necklace. “I want to see him scream in pain! I want to see his flesh melt off!”
“Burn the brat! Come on, let’s go!” The fat man shouted, pounding his fist on a banquet table.
Sadistic intent poured off the crowd like a heavy, suffocating smog. Within seconds, a unified, rhythmic chant erupted from the front tables, spreading like wildfire across the entire lawn:
“BURN HIM! BURN HIM! BURN HIM! BURN HIM!”
The guests on the far side joined in, clapping their hands in time with the roar:
“BURN HIM! BURN HIM! BURN HIM!”
Charlotte stood alone in the middle of the chanting crowd, her small voice completely swallowed by the deafening roar.
“No…please no…” She whispered under her breath, tears blinding her vision. “Please don’t…please…”
But her weak, desperate pleas were utterly drowned out by the thunderous chants of a hundred monsters.
Marcus stepped forward, torch in hand. He raised it toward Mika like a warrior issuing a final challenge, even though Mika’s eyes had gone completely lifeless.
“Happy New Year…”
He uttered mockingly before tossing the burning torch straight into the center of the wooden logs.
“NOOO!” Charlotte screamed, throwing herself forward, her hands outstretched as if she could somehow catch the falling flame in mid-air.
It was too late.
The second the fire touched the timber, the entire mound exploded into a towering inferno, as if the wood had been soaked in petroleum.
ROAR!
Bright orange and deep crimson flames shot fifteen feet into the night sky, completely engulfing the base of the cross.
The heat blasted outward, and with it—
Mika screamed.
“AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!”
The sound was unlike anything she had ever heard. It wasn’t human. It wasn’t animal.
It was the sound of something being torn apart from the inside—a howl of pure, unadulterated agony that seemed to shake the very foundations of the earth.
SHATTER!
The high-pitched frequency was so intense that several wine glasses shattered spontaneously.
“ARGHHHH!!! ARHHHHH! AHHHHHHH!!!!”
Mika thrashed against his restraints as the flames consumed him. His flayed body, already a canvas of exposed muscle and tissue, ignited like dry kindling.
Within seconds, he was completely enveloped in fire…a living torch writhing atop the stake.
Charlotte couldn’t see his face anymore. She could only see the silhouette of a burning figure, thrashing and convulsing in the inferno. The smell of cooking flesh filled the air, thick and cloying.
“MIKA! MIKA! MIKA!” Charlotte screamed, her voice cracking with helpless despair. “NO, MIKA, NO!”
The sheer violence of his screams meant only one thing—this wasn’t normal fire.
Marcus’s domain was amplifying the pain, inflicting a torture far beyond anything a human body was meant to endure.
Mika writhed and slammed his body against the iron spikes, his raw muscles straining against the stakes as the fire ate him alive.
Charlotte’s heart shattered into a thousand pieces.
In that moment, she knew with absolute certainty that she would willingly trade her life a thousand times over just to make it stop.
She would let them tie her down, she would let them douse her in oil and burn her alive right now if it meant saving Mika from a single second of this hell.
But she couldn’t do anything.
She was a ghost, forced to watch the boy she loved burn alive, his muffled groans and agonizing shrieks echoing through the night.
The crowd, however, felt no such pity. They watched the inferno with ecstatic eyes that were captivated by the spectacle.
“His voice is beautiful.” Someone commented, tilting her head like a music critic evaluating a performance.
“The flames are so enchanting.” Another added dreamily.
“This must be what Marcus was talking about—the true spirit of the sacrifice.”
“Finally! FINALLY he’s screaming! When we tortured him earlier, he was silent the whole time. Taunting us. Talking to us like we were old friends meeting for coffee.”
The Iron Sentinel shook his head in remembered frustration. “It was so infuriating.”
“But now look at him! Suffering like a proper victim should!”
“His cries are music to my ears!”
All around the garden, aristocrats were cheering, clapping, and raising toasts, celebrating the horrific display as if it were the greatest theatrical performance of the decade.
Meanwhile, the bound prisoners on the banquet tables wept silently.
They stared at the roaring bonfire in absolute dread, realizing that this horrific display was merely a preview of what awaited every single one of them once the clock struck midnight.
—
The fire burned for what felt like an eternity.
Then, slowly, it began to die down.
The wood below had been consumed, reduced to glowing embers and ash. The stake itself was barely standing—blackened and charred, looking like a twisted pillar of charcoal.
Smoke rose from the remnants in lazy spirals.
When the flames finally subsided, Charlotte saw what was left and her legs gave out.
She dropped to her knees, tears streaming down her face, her soul fracturing into a thousand pieces.
Mika was still on the cross.
Still crucified.
But he was worse now. Unimaginably worse.
The blood, muscle, and raw flesh that had been exposed when they flayed him was gone.
In its place was nothing but blackened charcoal, cracked and flaking. His entire body had been scorched beyond recognition—his feet, his hands, his chest, everything reduced to charred ruin.
Parts of him were simply…missing. Melted away by the heat.
Even his face was destroyed.
The flesh had burned away entirely, leaving behind a nightmare of cracked, blackened tissue.
His eyes had melted in their sockets. His lips were gone, exposing teeth that gleamed whitely against the charcoal of his face.
He didn’t look human anymore.
He looked like a nightmare given physical form.
The crowd erupted in laughter.
“HE LOOKS LIKE CHARCOAL!” Someone shouted.
“I ASKED FOR MEDIUM RARe!” Another called out. “YOU OVERCOOKED HIM!”
“BETTER LUCK NEXT TIME, CHEF!”
The jokes continued, each one more cruel than the last.
Marcus watched the scene with pure satisfaction etched across his features, while Amanda pressed a congratulatory kiss to his cheek.
But Charlotte had noticed something.
Something that made her heart stop.
Mika wasn’t moving.
Before, even in the depths of his suffering, he had always moved. He had spoken. He had taunted.
Even when they stripped his skin and drove nails through his body, he had never been completely still.
But now…
Now he hung limply, his head slumped forward, his body utterly motionless.
The realization snapped Charlotte out of her daze.
Slowly, she rose to her feet. Her legs barely supported her. She swayed as she walked, her mind fractured, her thoughts scattered like broken glass.
She approached the stake, looking up at Mika’s smoking, ruined body.
“…Mika?” She whispered.
No response.
She forced a terrible, desperate smile.
“Mika, come on. S-Stop playing around. You can hear me, right? Respond to me. Say something. Please.”
Silence.
She shook her head, laughing suddenly, a horrible, broken sound mixed with tears.
“Actually, no. How can you say anything? Those demons…they probably burned your tongue away.”
She laughed again, the sound cracking. “So just move your body. Shake it around. That’s all I need to see.”
She reached up slowly, poking at his charred leg. The flesh crumbled slightly at her touch.
“Come on, at least move this toe. Please, Mika. Just one toe. I know you can do it! You’ve survived so much! Just move!”
Nothing.
“Mika, please!” Her voice grew more frantic, more desperate. “Come on. I’m begging you! Don’t do this! Don’t leave me! Not like this!”
Every word torn from her throat grew louder, higher, and more terrifyingly desperate, until she was screaming into the quiet night, her hands clawing at his blackened ankles.
“MIKA, NO! NO, MIKA! NO! PLEASE, NOOO!”
She collapsed into the ash at his feet, clutching his charred leg, her body shaking as she broke down completely.
The surrounding guests exchanged surprised, amused glances at her utter breakdown.
“Wait…did we actually do it?” A noblewoman asked, raising her eyebrows. “Is the boy actually dead?”
“Oh my God, who would have thought!” A young blessed laughed. “I thought the brat was made of diamond or something! Totally indestructible!”
“Pfft, if a simple bonfire was his weakness, I would have thrown him into a furnace weeks ago!” another snorted.
“Let’s go! We finally did it!” A billionaire cheered, raising his glass high. “Great job, everyone! A true team effort!”
They began to toast one another, cheering and clapping as if they had just won a thrilling sporting match, utterly delighted by the boy’s apparent death.
Marcus watched it all with deep satisfaction. He knew Mika hadn’t quite died—not yet.
But he could feel the boy’s life force weakening, his resistance crumbling.
The domain that had been holding Marcus’s influence at bay was shrinking, contracting, breaking apart.
In a few minutes, Mika’s consciousness would scatter into nothing and he would simply cease to exist.
The thought filled Marcus with profound joy.
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