Chapter Ten: The Madman
Time crawled. It was as if the very notion of it had been trapped inside the cell with them. Waiting—that was the only thing they all had in common. A heavy silence had settled since Amado, the man with the mustache, last spoke. No one had uttered a single word since.
Every time footsteps echoed from above, hearts skipped, bodies flinched. Any newcomer could be him—the madman. And if it was, then it could be the end.
Then finally, after what felt like an eternity carved from stone, the footsteps stopped just outside the compound.
The guard posted on the upper balcony—usually calm and composed—sprinted in panic the moment he caught sight of the approaching figure. Only one person dared confront this visitor, and that was the man who led them all.
The visitor stumbled as he walked, as though his legs belonged to two different bodies. His skin had a purplish hue—sickly, unnatural. Not the kind of tone that belonged to anything alive. His teeth were yellowing into a greenish rot, and his eyes... they were the worst part. Veins as dark as tar threaded through the whites, crawling into the irises like cracks on shattered porcelain. The pupils were long, vertical slits—inhuman, snake-like. His back was hunched so severely it was a wonder he could walk at all.
The leader said nothing, simply walked beside him in silence, until they reached the basement... and the cell that held Daniel and the others.
The twisted man stopped at the bars, eyes scanning the prisoners.
"So... these are the ones who tried to escape? Even killed one of your men?" His voice was quiet but laced with menace.
The leader gave a single nod, saying nothing.
The madman eyed them a moment longer, then said, "Fair price. But I don't want the fat one."
The leader replied, doing his best to hide the irritation in his voice. "Take him anyway. I want everyone to know what happens to rebels."
The madman grinned—if the hideous thing on his face could be called a grin—and said, "Very well... but he'll come with a special discount."
"Agreed."
. . .
As the madman and the leader stepped into the corridor, drawing closer to the cell, the prisoners gasped in unison.
They knew him.
Just the sight of him shattered whatever courage they had left. Faces drained of color. Eyes went wide. It was as if their nightmares had stepped through the door and taken form.
Hearts pounded like war drums, as though trying to escape their chests.
Karo the brute, Kaoru the jittery one, and Sanjay the round man—all froze in place. Their legs refused to move, as if gravity had become a prison of its own.
The madman chuckled quietly, amused. "Don't be scared... not yet."
Without warning, he pulled a small vial from his pocket and tossed it to the floor.
It shattered.
A thick, dark green smoke erupted, carrying with it a foul, unholy stench that clung to the inside of their nostrils. They tried to pull away, but the cell was too cramped—there was nowhere to run.
They inhaled. They had no choice.
With the first breath, consciousness began to slip.
(No... not now... fight it...)
But no amount of resistance was enough. One by one, they were dragged into darkness, until all was quiet.
. . .
They woke up at some unknown hour, groggy and aching. They were inside a sealed carriage, bound tightly, surrounded by shadows. The only light came from thin slivers that seeped through the cracks in the ceiling. It was night.
The carriage moved.
Before long, the ground began to slope. They were going downhill, into some vast underground passage.
Then, it stopped.
The madman entered and began pulling them out, one by one, still chained.
They were too weak to resist, too disoriented to understand. But they could see now where they had been taken—a long, stone corridor, dimly lit by weak torches.
At the far end, the hall split in two. One path to the right, one to the left.
The madman herded them toward the left.
There… was the cell
But this was no ordinary dungeon.
Its walls were wide and made of dark stone, inscribed with strange markings that resembled no language any of them knew. The floor was dirt
He shut the door behind them and stood silently for a few moments. Then, without warning, a small fireball ignited above his open palm—he hadn't touched anything. One by one, he hurled them at the prisoners. Each time the flame struck a shackle, the metal snapped open. It wasn't fire that burned; it was fire that freed.
When all their restraints had fallen away, he left without a word. But moments later, he returned, holding a large tray in his hands. He slid it through a slot framed by iron bars, pushing it all the way inside.
It was piled high with food none of them expected: grilled meat, ripe fruits, steaming dishes rich with aromas they hadn't smelled in what felt like ages. Everything in generous portions.
The madman stared at them with a glint of mischief in his eye—then turned and left without another glance.
Silence.
They all stared at the food with hesitant eyes.
Lucas—the one with glasses—swallowed hard and asked in a nervous tone,
"Do you think it's poisoned? Or maybe... laced with something?"
Amadou, the mustached one, replied quickly, trying to sound confident,
"Poisoned? No way. That lunatic doesn't want to kill us yet.
Now, if it's got something from his experiments... that, I can't say."
A heavy feeling settled over them. They gazed longingly at the food, mouths watering, but their hands stayed where they were—held back by fear, resisting the primal urge to devour the feast before them.
Then Daniel stood.
He cast a look of contempt at the tray, turned his back to it, and sat down in a corner of the cell.
"The mere fact that he served us this food is enough for me to call it inedible," he said firmly.
No one replied, but their eyes silently agreed.
One by one, they followed his lead. Even Sanjay—the big one who seemed to suffer the most—pulled himself away with great effort, curling into a far corner, trying to ignore the growl of his stomach.
Time dragged on, each minute heavier than the last. Hunger carved its way into them, growing sharper.
Sanjay's suffering became unbearable. Two of them had to restrain him as he thrashed like a starving beast, mumbling incoherent words, eyes wild.
Then the madman returned.
He opened the cell door and looked around, understanding instantly what had happened. A smirk played on his lips as he spoke with a mocking tone.
"So, the fool was right. You have tried to escape before... and killed one of his followers, didn't you?"
Before anyone could respond, a small fireball flared to life in his hand. It shot toward them and exploded near the floor—not hitting anyone, but close enough to send waves of heat across the stones.
Everyone froze.
It was clear: any wrong move would be seen as rebellion.
Then the madman said, voice laced with menace,
"The last one of you to eat from this food... will be the first I use in my experiments."
It took only a heartbeat.
They all lunged for the food, grabbing whatever they could, shoveling it down in frantic, desperate gulps. No one knew who the last was—every one of them devoured the meal as if their very lives depended on it.
The madman let out a cold laugh.
"There's nothing in the food, idiots. Just a little lesson...
From now on, you obey me. To the letter."
And with that, he left, closing the door behind him, leaving behind a silence thick with humiliation and fear.
They exchanged looks—no words needed.
They all understood: the food hadn't been kindness. It had been preparation. Fattening them up... to make them better suited for whatever experiments lay ahead.
Daniel sat still, staring at the empty tray.
Then he raised his head and spoke quietly—but with unmistakable resolve.
"Anyone else ready to help me escape this time?".