novelraw Chapter 123: Punishment begins now..
Chapter 123: Punishment begins now..
And just like that, Astraga found himself face-down in wet mush.
The System had dropped him in an unfamiliar location without warning. One could only wonder what sort of punishment awaited him here. With half his face buried in the muck, he gritted his teeth and tried to push himself up.
But surprisingly, he didn't rise. In fact, the more he struggled, the deeper he sank.
"Where am I?" he gasped. "Why can't I get up?"
Something gritty crept into his mouth. Was it dirt? He couldn't tell; all he could see were shallow beams of light filtering through the canopy above.
**[Welcome to Simulation Number 105, Candidate 566.]**
Astraga could only use the half of his mouth not covered in sludge to yell. "Where am I, you bastard?!"
The System replied, as emotionless as ever.
**[Welcome, Astraga, to your punishment simulation. It appears the Candidate has been spawned inside quicksand.]**
**[Analysis: This is an error on my part.]**
**[Reporting error to Genesis... Report complete.]**
**[Unfortunate. I cannot assist the Candidate.]**
Astraga started to panic. Even if he had dared to mock this so-called Genesis, was she truly ruthless enough to kill him instantly? The realization set in.
He sank deeper and deeper into the sand. The light faded. The muck filled his nose, his ears, his mouth.
He was completely engulfed.
And just like that, Candidate 566 was no more.
**[Loading...]**
**[Candidate 566 respawning in 5... 4... 3... 2... 1...]**
**[Respawn Complete.]**
*Gasps.*
Astraga jolted awake, his lungs heaving. He found himself outside the quicksand, completely relocated to the shore of a strange island.
**[Candidate 566. I am now required to inform you of your status.]**
**[Displaying Information...]**
Before Astraga's eyes, a holographic interface flickered into existence:
* **Stamina:** 150/200
* **Intelligence:** 7/200
* **Speed:** 30/200
* **Strength:** 30/200
* **Lives:** 6 Hearts
Immediately, one of the six red hearts turned grey and shattered.
**[Lives Remaining: 5 Hearts.]**
He knew instantly what that meant. It was familiar game mechanics: once you lose a heart, you don't get it back easily. Just don't lose all of them. But just to be sure, he questioned the void.
"Why did my heart just drop? It says 'Lives'... what lives exactly? And that death wasn't my fault! You dropped me in the wrong spot!"
**[Unfortunately, that has happened,]** the System replied without remorse. **[As punishment, that will be your injustice to bear. Genesis has allowed it.]**
"Tsk." Astraga was pissed, but he needed to be certain about the stakes. "Just to be clear... what happens if my life drops to zero?"
He couldn't finish the thought. Who would want to say it out loud?
The System confirmed his fear.
**[100% complete and utter death. No respawning allowed. A new candidate would be found, as your number suggests, Candidate 566. Candidates 1 through 565 have all failed to respawn.]**
The gravity of the situation slammed into him. Five hundred and sixty-five people before him... all dead. Gone forever.
**[Simulation Activated.]**
**[Goal: Reach the Mountain Top.]**
Astraga looked up. In the distance, looming over the dense jungle, was a mountain that looked like an inactive volcano.
"And what happens if I don't?"
**[Punishment Activated.]**
**[The Punisher has been released.]**
Behind him, the ocean began to churn. At first, he didn't notice, but the frantic screaming of seabirds caught his attention. He turned and saw shark fins slicing through the water, heading straight for the shore.
**[Restriction Activated.]**
Suddenly, a blue band of light materialized around Astraga's wrists, binding his hands tightly together.
"You're restricting my hands?!" he shouted. "How am I supposed to move fast like this?"
The System gave no response.
In his mind, he tried to rationalize it. *If sharks are the punishment, that's fine. All I have to do is stay out of the water.*
But another voice popped into his head—the voice of reason. *You idiot. What kind of thinking is that? A god-like being that can set up game mechanics... would she make it that easy? Genesis couldn't be that dumb.*
He would soon realize he was right.
Something was coming out of the water. And whatever it was, it was not natural.
The sharks launched themselves onto the sand.
"What?!"
They weren't flopping helplessly. With terrifying, muscular struggles, they came charging out of the surf, using their powerful fins to drag themselves across the beach.
Astraga started running, trying to dodge. He sidestepped the first, then the second, then a third. It seemed his **Speed: 30/200** wasn't as bad as he thought.
But as he ran, he noticed something strange. Once the sharks jumped out, they weren't chasing *him*. They were lunging their bodies frantically inland, ignoring him entirely.
"Wait..."
He stopped as a massive Great White landed right in front of him, a couple of leg-lengths away. Its eyes were black and predatory, its body built for killing. But Astraga had never seen a shark tremble before.
The shark ignored him, thrashed its tail, and vaulted over a piece of driftwood, landing behind him and continuing into the jungle.
All the sharks were moving away from the water.
*Please don't tell me... they are trying to run away from whatever is down there.*
That was it. The sharks were simply prey running from a bigger predator.
And that was the realization that made Astraga's blood run cold.
His heart started to pound against his ribs. Whatever was coming out of that ocean, he was never going to wait around to find out what it was.
He turned on his heel and sprinted inland, heading for the mountain. His high **Stamina** was his only edge now as he jumped over tree trunks and dodged low-hanging branches with his bound hands.
He didn't know exactly where he was going. Neither did the sharks.
In this moment, he had become just like them: prey running for its life.
## Back at Dunamis
"Please... I'm begging you. Just let me go."
The man's voice was a ragged whisper, directed at the figure looming over him—a man wearing a polished gold cat mask.
"I'm sorry," the masked figure replied, his voice devoid of pity. "I can't do that."
The prisoner's desperation snapped into fury. He lunged forward as far as his restrictions allowed, spitting directly onto the golden feline features of the mask. "You bastard! You keep taking people from Blackroot! Why? My family... my children..." His voice broke into a sob as the masked man stepped back, unbothered.
As the light shifted, the true horror of the room came into focus. The prisoner was pinned to a chair, his thighs meticulously dissected. The skin had been peeled back for hours, leaving the muscle and fat exposed to the stale air. Beneath the glistening red surface, his veins pulsed and his bone shone white—functional, living, and horrifyingly visible.
The masked man spread his arms wide, his voice rising in a fever of madness. "Can't you see? You are being used for the greater good! With my experiments, society will be reborn. All you have to do is understand how vital you are to the plan." He touched the edge of his golden mask and cackled, a high, rhythmic trill of excitement. "This world—all the kingdoms, especially Volkar—will change forever once we are through with them."
From the shadows of the hallway, the sudden, mundane bleat of a goat echoed. The prisoner froze; he knew that sound. The second one had arrived.
"Boss, I was starting to get worried," the masked man said as the door swung open.
They were in a safehouse on the unknoutskirts of Blackroot. These men had been ghosts in the woods for years, watching the town, calculating exactly how to snatch its citizens without a trace.
A man stepped into the room, leading a goat on a short rope. He didn't bother with a mask.
"Was it successful?" The man asked from behind his golden cat mask, his voice echoing slightly.
"Did you get rid of the evidence?"
The new man chuckled, disregarding Jack's tensioned question.
"Come on, Jack. You know I always get the job done."
Despite his overconfident words, Jack hesitated, his hand hovering over his own face in a reactionary response to being addressed by name in front of the victim.
"Oh, come on," the Boss chuckled, noticing the hesitation. "Are you scared he'll recognize you before he dies? It's a bit late for modesty, isn't it?"
He walked toward the tied-up man, his boots clicking on the floor. "You know, friend, this 'monster' is a pillar of your community. Everyone knows him."
The prisoner shook his head, his eyes wide. "You're lying. I know everyone in Blackroot. No one who has seen that town suffer would do this."
"Is that so?" The Boss grinned as his goat let out another soft *merh*. "Well, it seems your local lumberjack really hates you people."
"Jack?" The name tasted like poison. The realization hit the prisoner like a physical blow. Jack, the quiet lumberjack who had lived among them for years, helped build their homes, and played with their children... he was the one behind the abductions?
Jack slowly reached up and removed the gold mask. The face underneath was familiar, weathered, and entirely cold. The prisoner stared in absolute disbelief.
"I'm sure he told you that you're dying for a 'noble cause,'" the Boss said, tapping the prisoner's cheek mockingly. "Why lie to the poor man, Jack? You aren't a hero. You're a test subject.
All of you in Blackroot are. We used the children to make the Bagu stronger, and we used the adults to refine the very gold Jack wears on his face."
He leaned in close. "The people of Blackroot have been so... helpful. Thank you."
Rage, hot and blinding, surged through the prisoner. He screamed, a raw, guttural sound of curses and hatred, his face turning a deep, dangerous purple as his blood pressure spiked.
"Stop shouting!" Jack yelled, stepping back. "You'll explo—"
In an instant, the man's torso vanished. A wet, thunderous *pop* filled the room as he disintegrated from the waist up. Gore sprayed outward, but a shimmering 'Ghoti' barrier flickered into existence around the Boss and Jack, keeping them dry as the remains hit the floor.
"Why do they always blow up when they get emotional?" the Boss asked, wiping a stray drop of blood under his boots.
"It's the solution in their blood," Jack muttered, looking at the mess. "I haven't perfected the formula yet."
"Work faster."
As they watched, the carnage began to change. The blood stains on the floor, the chunks of flesh, and the remaining legs still tied to the chair began to stiffen and shine. Within seconds, every scrap of the man had turned into solid, shimmering gold.
"Well," the Boss remarked, "the gold solution still works, at least."
"The purity is still off," Jack sighed, beginning to pack his surgical tools. "It needs more refinement."
The Boss scoffed. "Well then, refine it better. Should be simple, no?"
"Boss, turning a human into gold is a very complex form of manomancy," Jack defended, his voice strained. "You don't understand how tasking it is."
"Oh, so you're saying your brother's work doesn't work?" The Boss leaned in, his voice dripping with condescension. "Well, I guess the Order was right to ban it, then."
"NO, IT WORKS!" Jack yelled, falling immediately for the bait. "I WILL make it work! I just need more time—and more people."
The Boss smiled, a slow, predatory expression. "Leave the people to me. I'll get you as many as you need. But be quick, Jack. Master Drogan has been patient enough."
Jack bowed his head, accepting the manipulation. "Understood. Thank you for the trust."
The Boss, now revealing his own goat-like facial features, waved a dismissive hand. "Yeah, yeah. Just get it done."
Jack paused, a dark thought crossing his mind. "Wait... what about the Manomancer? What about Vulgerbread?"
The Boss let out a cruel, jagged laugh, clutching his belly as if the memory were a physical delight. "Oh, you should have seen his face! He looked absolutely shattered."
He leaned against the doorframe, still grinning.
"I don't know what he did to Bagu, but that petty bastard pulled the man's son right into the void with him. When that boy got sucked into the abyss, it was as if the life just drained out of the Manomancer's body. Gone. All of it."
The Boss chuckled, shaking his head. "Bagu... what a petty bastard. I'm actually going to miss that idiot."
Jack stopped cold, his hands tightening. "You're serious? Well... that's unfortunate. But now he finally understands what it means to lose someone close to you.
" He stared at his blood-stained tools. "He still doesn't understand that the Order is no good."
"Yep," the Boss replied, his amusement cooling into business-like coldness. "He's lost that boy forever.
Though, I'll tell you... there was something about that kid. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but he gave off a weird energy. Either way, that's one more threat crossed off my list."
"I guess," Jack said, his expression hardening into a mask of stone.
The man known as Jack the Lumberjack was truly dead. In his place stood a manomancer consumed by a singular purpose, ready to do anything to finish what his brother had started—the work the Order had been too cowardly to allow.
"Let's go," Jack commanded. "We should reach Master Drogan's location in fifteen days."
The Boss stepped toward the exit, his goat-eyes glinting. "You'd better have those research reports ready by then."