Floor 499 — Luminor — Forest
The night was thick with tension in the Forest of Luminor, the towering trees casting long, jagged shadows under the pale glow of the moon. A lone carriage rattled through the winding path, its wheels kicking up dirt as the horses galloped at a frantic pace. Inside, the Ringmaster clutched the edges of his seat, his breath ragged. His mind raced with plans of vengeance, his lips curling into a devilish smile.
"Just wait," he muttered to himself, his voice dripping with malice. "When I get out of here, you will pay—"
His words were cut short as a massive block of ice plummeted from the sky, crashing onto the carriage with a thunderous roar. Wood splintered, metal groaned, and the structure collapsed inward, burying the Ringmaster beneath the wreckage. The horses, spared from the destruction, reared in terror before bolting into the darkness, their frantic neighs fading into the distance.
The coachman, thrown clear of the wreck, groaned as he struggled to push himself up from the ground. His vision swam, but as it cleared, a figure emerged from the shadows—tall, imposing, radiating an aura of cold fury. Jace stood before him, his expression unreadable, his eyes burning with a quiet, deadly intent. In his hand, he gripped an axe forged from ice, its blade glinting ominously in the moonlight.
The coachman's breath hitched. His body trembled, his voice barely a whisper. "P-Please… spare—"
The axe descended before he could finish. A sickening crunch echoed through the forest, followed by the wet splatter of blood. The coachman's head rolled to the side, his lifeless eyes wide with terror. Jace left the icy weapon embedded in the corpse, his gaze shifting toward the wreckage where the Ringmaster lay trapped.
Beneath the rubble, the Ringmaster writhed, his breaths shallow and panicked. His fingers clawed at the debris, his muscles straining as he fought to free himself. Then, the weight above him shifted—not by his own efforts, but by an unseen force. A hand seized his wrist, yanking him free with brutal force. He cried out as his body was flung onto the cold, unforgiving ground.
Jace loomed over him, his shadow swallowing the Ringmaster whole. He bent down, his voice a chilling whisper.
"Please… spare me," the Ringmaster begged, his voice cracking. "I'll give you the name—I'll tell you everything!"
Jace raised a finger to his lips. "Shhhhh." The gesture was almost gentle, but his eyes promised nothing but torment. "Now is not the time for that."
The Ringmaster's blood ran cold.
"You remember what I told you, don't you?" Jace continued, his tone eerily calm. "For every dead child, I will make you beg for death." He leaned closer, his breath ghosting over the Ringmaster's face. "I counted them all. Three hundred. Three hundred lives stolen."
The Ringmaster's heart hammered against his ribs. "N-no…"
"So here's what's going to happen," Jace said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "For each child, I will torture you three hundred times. And just when you think death is a mercy…" He raised his hand, and a dagger of ice materialized in his grip, its edge razor-sharp. "I will heal you. You won't die. Not until I say so."
The Ringmaster's pleas dissolved into incoherent sobs. "No, please—!"
Jace's arm moved in a flash. The dagger plunged into the Ringmaster's eye, the sound of tearing flesh drowned out by a scream that shattered the silence of the forest.
And so, the night wore on—filled with agony, with justice, and with the unrelenting fury of a man who had nothing left to lose.