4 The Folter[II]

Narrowing his eyes, Locke glanced around while confirming that he genuinely was surrounded by an endless red sea, and he was not amused.

"...Again?" Locke groaned, first he jumped worlds somehow, then he got attacked by a dude yelling in an unknown language... with a glowing fist? And now this? He shook his head to clear out such thoughts and once again peeked around. Sure, he was happy about escaping from prison, but it also frustrated him that he was still in the dark about his whole situation.

He wondered why he didn't feel any pain from getting hit by that green fist while pushing himself off the surprisingly stable ground. It was peculiar. There was a sea around him, its waters bobbing around, yet he noticed that the area about 2 meters around him was stable as if they were a haven in these crimson waters.

With the bit of perception, he had of his surroundings, Locke got down on his knees before hesitantly sending out a spread-out palm to touch the platform beneath him. He actually wanted to feel the water but was slightly fearful of it as he could see nothing but crimson reaching into the depths of wherever this was.

Locke released a breath even he hadn't known he was holding in as he felt the smooth, transparent floor underneath him. Sure he could feel it on his knees, but he was still clothed in that orange jumpsuit and wanted to confirm it with his bare skin.

While still curious about the sea, Locke put that out of his mind as he sat there, now pondering over his case when the next stage of 'misfortune' unfolded.

A violent seismic sensation swept across him as it traveled what seemed to be miles upon miles to reach him. Time seemingly slowed down as Locke clenched his suddenly sweaty palms, shaking as he glared at the scarlet tsunami boring down on him.

He could hear his heart pounding in his ears as the waters crashed against him, uprooting and dragging him away like a palm tree. Surrounded by crimson, Locke couldn't even see his hand in front of him as he panicked. The lack of proper discernment of his surroundings, coupled with his Aquaphobia, only served to amplify his concern for himself.

He thrashed in the water, trying to get to the surface as he was running out of breath. So it went on and on as he bit his lips to calm himself down. Locke reflexively spit out as the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth, but what instead came in was a rotten taste that made him gag.

The taste of blood.

But it was different, unlike his fresh blood, this one seemed to be here for eons, and it finally struck him. This 'red' sea was actually a sea bursting with age-old blood. The thought shook him to the core, a nagging voice in his head demanding an answer to a question he himself was stumped with.

But he had no time to concern himself with such matters, as the surface could be seen! He desperately kicked the waters, his lungs screaming for air as he clawed his way up. Fresh air filled his lungs as it expanded till what was deemed as humanely possible as he grinned widely, finally able to see something other than red.

Locke could feel the platform under his hands as he placed both his palms down on it before exerting force to pull himself up. He rolled onto it as he lay on his back, still gasping for air, now understanding the fatal flaw of this translucent platform.

While it could protect him from the blood beneath him, if a mini-tsunami like before were to ever chance upon him again, it would offer little to no protection. This was a fatal flaw he needed to do something about if he had to survive here.

Fortunately, he wouldn't need to worry about that as a loud crack reverberated through the air as the sea shuddered, a seemingly invisible contraction taking place. Space warped as this contraction expanded, suddenly sending out transparent echoes as something slowly took place in front of Locke.

He cocked his head in confusion as a red translucent panel appeared in front of him before everything blacked out.

______

Finding himself in an unrivaled uncomfortable position, Locke was now officially angry.

As he hung there upside down, ruminating about where he went wrong in his life, the vine his leg was hooked on finally broke under his efforts. He immediately snapped onto an end of the broken vine, grasping it with the tip of his fingers before he lost his grip.

But that was all he needed as the only reason he grabbed onto the vine was to get in a position with the soles of his feet facing the ground. He didn't want to break his neck after all. He landed on the ground with a thud, raising a bit of dust around him. It was lucky that where he was stuck was close to the ground.

'Is this plot armor?'

{Hmm? What's that?} The demon inquired curiously, this time not insulting him.

'Huh? Have you no knowledge of web novels demon? Wait, before that, you can read my thoughts?!'

{I thought that was obvious. Foolish peasant}.

Scratching the back of his head, Locke was fed up with the snide remarks from the demon.

'Oi motherfucker, shut it. I'm tired of your constant mockery. Who the fucking hell do you think you are?' Locke let loose as the demon was stumped silent, shocked by the audacity of this mortal.

Before they could bicker more, a jarring voice, like steel grating against steel, resounded in the area, the echoes hitting Locke's ears over and over, making him wince. He turned to the left to see a middle-aged man in black robes, with black long hair floating in a non-existent wind and a goatee with a few grey whiskers. He had wrinkles on his face with sunken eyes and a sharp nose and stood with his hands behind his back.

"Choose your weapon for survival or die. I have better things to do." Finished with his prompt and short declaration, the man moved out of the way, almost as if he floated, revealing a bunch of weapons behind him settled on a long red cloth lying on the floor. Some of the weapons were slightly rusted, and the longer ones were poking out the comfort of the red cloth as it was of inadequate width.

Locke admired the weapons as he walked forward before suddenly jerking his head and taking a step back, asking himself why he didn't question the man's blatant authority over him. The moment this thought resounded in his head, all his instincts screamed out, warning him that if he rebelled, he probably wouldn't survive to tell the tale.

And as much as he valued his pride and independence, for the moment, it wasn't worth his life. He might've argued with this man if he hadn't just been granted a second chance.

Audibly gulping as he felt the man's gaze bore onto his back, Locke clenched his fists and hesitantly walked forward, inspecting the weapons laid out in front of him. Swords, spears, glaives, axes, maces, daggers, gauntlets, and huge hammers lied along with a bow with a limited amount of arrows in a quiver next to it.

The bow was immediately crossed out as it only had a fixed amount of arrows and with him having no knowledge of its proper use, it would only be a hassle for him to carry as a secondary weapon.

"I don't have all day." The man behind him voiced out, his tone indicating that he was growing annoyed as Locke flinched. He immediately picked out the weapons that were too light for him to use, his eyes roaming the hammers and other heavy weapons. His eyes brightened as he found a weapon that he felt was fit for him, a mace.

It had a long wooden shaft, which slightly thinned near its middle, making out a handle for it, and a cylindrical mace near the end. The other end of the shaft was blunted while the mace was cut off in the middle, with sharp spikes poking out of it, large enough to tear into something but not too huge as to make it unbalanced. The mace's end was flat with layers on the side decorating it while also providing more blunt damage. There was a spear point on top that stood straight and could also be used to pierce.

Locke picked it up with both hands, finding that it was a tad bit heavy but enough for use. He had immediately fallen in love with the weapon to the point of forgetting where he was as he broke into a huge grin, almost like a little kid with a new toy. He could not be blamed as he had spent a huge portion of his childhood with his father, brother, and weapons.

"Hoh, I thought you would choose a sword like most. Either you're a dumb fool to choose an unknown weapon or..." The man's voice trailed off, carrying a tinge of surprise at Locke's selection.

Locke turned to look at him, still in a grin as he asked, "Can I have some pants or some clothes to change to?" He asked this as the orange jumpsuit was starting to get a little uncomfortable, and if he had to survive, he could at least do it comfortably.

A loud blast reverberated through the air as Locke was thrown away by some invisible force, his back hitting a rocky wall before he slowly crumpled to the floor. "Fuck, what did I do this time?"

He muttered as he slowly staggered off of the mace he was lying on, thankfully it was longer than him as it stood at about two and a half meters, so he didn't go anywhere near the lethal part of the weapon. "You will address me as the Dark Master, or you will not speak, do you understand, slave?"

'What a chuuni.' Locke rolled his eyes internally as he focused on the latter parts of the man's words. 'Understand? Ohh yeah. Understand. Hey demon, how can I speak to him with him understanding me?"

'{Huh? Are you dumb? I switched on the translator. I've had enough fun with you, mortal. You're boring}.'

Locke was fuming because of this 'Dark Master' guy but his instincts would ring bells every time he thought of doing something as if his doom would occur the moment he did something wrong. He grit his teeth as he realized that he had to get out of here as soon as possible, or he would possibly be a slave for the rest of the second chance of his life, but antecedently, he had to find out where he was and the location of this place.

"Survive. And you might just make it out to the Surface. Heheheee..." The man giggled creepily as he waved his hand and vanished while a brown pant floated towards him, giving Locke a look that made him feel like prey.

And he hated it. On the bright side, he did get the pant.