DEMONIC ANGEL

TORTURE BEGINS

Asta's eyes fluttered open slowly, confusion clouding his thoughts.

"Huh... What just happened?" he murmured, his voice tinged with bewilderment.

As he scanned his surroundings, he realized that the others who had been present were nowhere to be seen. Instead, he found himself face to face with an unassuming figure, an ugly scientist of average stature. His countenance bore the marks of tireless pursuit of scientific knowledge, with scars etched into his complexion and an intensity in his gaze that bespoke malevolence.

Asta's heart pounded in his chest as the realization sank in. His eyes darted around the stark, white room, a sense of claustrophobia closing in as the implications of the scientist's words fully dawned on him.

"Yeah, torture," the scientist repeated with a nonchalant shrug, as if discussing something as mundane as the weather. "You see, the process of integrating true dragon blood into your system isn't straightforward. It requires your body to be pushed to its absolute limits."

Asta felt a cold sweat break out across his forehead. "Pushed to its limits? You mean to say you'll keep hurting me to test this... dragon blood?" he asked, his voice shaky with a mixture of fear and disbelief.

"Exactly," the scientist confirmed with a nod, his eyes gleaming with a disturbing enthusiasm. "The pain will stimulate your body's adaptive response, making the integration more effective. The more you suffer, the better the results. We have found that near-death experiences can trigger rapid genetic adaptations, which are crucial for the experiment."

Asta's stomach churned at the thought. The room seemed to spin as he tried to grasp the full horror of his situation. "But why me? Why do this to anyone?" he pleaded, his voice hoarse.

The scientist paused, tilting his head as if considering Asta's question for the first time. "Why you? Well, you were chosen because of your unique genetic makeup. Intersexual individuals like you are rare and possess an inherent flexibility in their biological framework that is ideal for this kind of genetic experimentation."

"Remember, the pain will pass, and you will survive," the scientist added, almost as an afterthought. "The potion will heal you every time, so you won't die. But you will wish you could."

The casual cruelty in the scientist's tone sent a wave of dread through Asta. As the reality of his endless cycle of pain and healing settled in, a sense of helplessness washed over him. He was trapped in a nightmare, far from the mundane life he once complained about. Now, his every moment would be a fight for sanity amid the orchestrated agony.

"Hey, how about we introduce ourselves?" Asta attempted to break the tension. "My name is Asta. What about you?"

The scientist's response dripped with disdain, his cold attitude chilling the air. "There's no need for introductions, especially with livestock."

Asta's attempt at cordiality fell flat, meeting the chilling indifference of the scientist's demeanor. The room seemed to grow colder with the scientist's dismissive reply, and Asta's fleeting hope of finding some semblance of humanity in his captor evaporated like mist.

"Livestock, huh?" Asta's voice cracked slightly, a mix of fear and anger simmering beneath his words. He shifted uncomfortably against his restraints, the metal clinking softly in the sterile room. "That's a pretty grim way to talk about someone, don't you think?"

The scientist merely adjusted his glasses, his expression unchanging, clinical. "Emotions are irrelevant here," he stated flatly. "Your feelings, your names, your personal stories—they hold no value in the face of scientific progress. You are here as a subject, nothing more."