Pimpou

Nicolas stood before the scene, his eyes fixed on the young man tied to the chair. His face was illuminated by a fierce expression, a mix of determination and contained anger. His bright blue hair shone under the torchlight on the wall, contrasting with the seriousness of his gaze.

The young man in the chair, Marcos, was visibly tense but didn't show fear. His eyes met Nicolas's with subtle disdain, as if challenging him even in his vulnerable position.

Nicolas clenched his fists, feeling the fury bubbling inside him. "Marcos... I'm going to ask you just one more time," his voice was firm and laden with determination. "Otherwise, I'll use force. After all, this is for a noble cause. So tell me, where is Pimpou? What did you do with him?"

Marcos responded with a mix of disdain and provocation. "Nicolas, you have nice blue hair," he began, his voice calm despite the tense situation. "And you even have the strength to lead. But you are soft-hearted, and that..."

Before Marcos could finish his provocation, Nicolas's fist flew towards his face. "Pow~~" The sound of the impact echoed in the room, followed by Marcos's groan of pain. His eye swelled instantly, a clear sign of the punch's force.

"I warned you..." Nicolas said, his voice as sharp as a blade. "Now stop wasting time and answer. Where is Pimpou?"

The spectators around them averted their gaze, unable to bear the brutality of the interrogation. Heavy silence hung over the room, broken only by Marcos's muffled groans as he struggled to find words amidst the searing pain.

Nicolas watched closely as Marcos took a deep breath, his expression a mix of resignation and despair. Marcos's one intact eye met Nicolas's, revealing a hidden sadness behind his bravado. "Man... I can't talk," Marcos began, his voice laden with lasciviousness. "Noble women's bodies are the best thing... If it weren't for William, I would never have the chance to have sex whenever I wanted, and that's why I can't betray him."

A sigh escaped Nicolas's lips, his eyes showing no pity, only unyielding determination. "I don't want to know about that," he said, cutting off Marcos's excuses with a firm tone. "I want to know Pimpou's exact location. Otherwise, I'll be forced to do worse things to you. Because if you had come to me before and asked for protection..."

But before Nicolas could finish his sentence, Marcos interrupted with a cruel laugh. "Ahahahahah~~," he laughed, his voice echoing through the room. Then, with a disdainful look, he continued, "Nicolas, are you sure you don't have some mental problem? Or do you really think you can protect all your subordinates?"

Nicolas clenched his fists, the anger bubbling inside him. "Pimpou was under your protection," Marcos said, his voice cold as ice. "But the moment you weren't around, he was kidnapped. So stop acting like a white knight full of honor. You are..."

Before Marcos could finish his provocation, Nicolas's fist flew towards his face once again. "Pow~~" The sound of the impact was accompanied by the crack of Marcos's teeth breaking, as he groaned in pain. The punch was quick and brutal, a reflection of Nicolas's frustration and anger at Marcos's stubbornness in not cooperating.

Nicolas stared at Marcos with intensity, his contained fury like a flame about to explode. But before he could respond, Marcos spoke, his voice mixed with pain and defiance. "I did the best I could to protect him," he began, his voice harsh and filled with bitterness. "So don't you dare attack my honor again, you pathetic trash. Now talk, otherwise, I swear I'll break your fingers one by one."

A chilling sound came from Nicolas as he watched Marcos spit on the floor, blood mixing with the fragments of broken teeth. Heavy silence hung over the room, each second feeling like an eternity. Nicolas felt the tension in the air, his heart pounding in his chest as he awaited Marcos's response.

Finally, after an agonizing moment, Marcos broke the silence. "I'll talk..." he said, his voice a hoarse whisper. "But on one condition. No one can know I told, otherwise..."

Nicolas sighed, his anger momentarily dissipating as he considered Marcos's offer. He looked around, meeting the eyes of the other young men present in the room, each of them staring at the scene with a mix of disgust and anger. Then, he turned his attention back to Marcos.

"Okay," he said, his voice firm. "No one will know... Now tell me, where is Pimpou Wirk?"

"Yesterday, some other members of William's gang..." Marcos began, his voice cold and indifferent. He described the cruel act with a disturbing calmness, as if recounting a trivial story. "We found Pimpou and took him to the third-floor bathroom of the magical slaves and put his head in the toilet and flushed... Hahahaha..."

Marcos's laughter echoed through the room, a sinister sound that sent chills down the listeners' spines. The young men couldn't help but feel a wave of nausea at the cruelty described by Marcos.

"To top it off, we humiliated him in other ways, and then..." Marcos continued, his voice trailing off into dark memories.

"Then what?" Nicolas interrupted, his voice as sharp as a blade. "Keep talking..."

Marcos met Nicolas's eyes, his gaze defiant and ruthless. "We left a rope for him to hang himself," he said, his voice low and filled with malice. "And before we left the bathroom, we told him the only way to stop us from doing these things to him was to end his own life."

Nicolas felt an overwhelming mix of shock and anger flood his being. His eyes widened in horror at the cruelty of Marcos's described acts. "What? Damn you..." he murmured, his voice trembling with indignation. "How can you do such horrible things?"

Nicolas turned his back on Marcos, his mind filled with determination and his heart pounding with a mix of anger and concern. With quick steps, he started running towards the third-floor bathroom, where Pimpou was supposedly held. The ground vibrated under his feet with each step, echoing his silent urgency.

"Tyler and Samuel, follow me!" he shouted loudly as he ran, his voice echoing through the room. "Everyone else, stay here while we go check the truth of these words."

The two young men, Tyler and Samuel, promptly joined Nicolas in his frantic run. Together, they opened doors and descended stairs, each movement calculated to bring them closer to their goal.

When they finally reached the third floor, Nicolas slowed his pace, aware of the imminent danger. They began to walk, cautious not to draw the attention of the magical aberrations that inhabited that dark place.

A long corridor stretched out before them, punctuated by grotesque, distorted figures that moved around. The smell of rotting flesh filled the air, making the atmosphere even more nauseating. But after a few more steps, they reached the entrance to the bathroom.

Nicolas paused for a moment, his breathing heavy and his heart pounding in his chest. He exchanged looks with Tyler and Samuel, sharing a mix of apprehension and determination. With a silent nod, they entered.

Nicolas stepped into the bathroom with hesitant steps, his heightened senses alert for any sign. Unlike the second-floor bathroom, which was clean and had an aura of calm but was unfortunately haunted by a female ghost, this bathroom emanated a dirty, oppressive atmosphere.

As they looked ahead, their eyes fixed on a scene that made their hearts stop and their breaths cease for a moment. On a wooden chair rested Pimpou's cold body, with a rope tightly wrapped around his neck.

His body, once full of life, was now as still as a marble statue, his lifeless eyes fixed on a distant point as if looking beyond this world. His pale neck bore the marks of the rope's pressure, cutting off the oxygen flow to the rest of his body.

A scream tore through the air, echoing off the cold bathroom walls. "NO!!!!!!!" Nicolas screamed, his voice laden with anguish and despair. He lunged towards Pimpou's body, his hands grasping Pimpou's legs as he tried to lift him, as if this gesture could bring him back to life, preventing the rope from suffocating him further.

His muscles trembled with the effort, his heart pounding uncontrollably in his chest as he fought against the inevitability of death. But despite his desperate efforts, Pimpou's body remained still, his skin cold as ice under Nicolas's touch.

Samuel placed a hand on Nicolas's shoulder, his expression filled with sadness and resignation. "It's no use, Nicolas..." he said in a gentle but firm tone. "He's already dead."

Samuel's words hit Nicolas like a punch in the gut, cutting through the haze of urgency that surrounded him. Slowly, he stopped his efforts, his hands releasing Pimpou's legs as he looked at the floor, defeated. All his efforts to protect the weaker ones seemed to have been in vain in that dark moment.

While Nicolas was lost in his thoughts, Tyler looked at Samuel, an expression of perplexity on his face. "Man?" he began, his voice filled with incredulity. "Murder is one of the rules the mage imposed on us. How could William's gang defy the laws created by a mage?"

Before Samuel could respond, Nicolas sighed heavily and spoke, his voice tired and resigned. "Direct murder is forbidden," he explained, his gaze distant. "Now, inducing someone to commit suicide is not prohibited. After all... Pimpou hanged himself."

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1608 Words

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Updated goals:

50 power stones = 1 chapter

100 stones = 2 chapters

200 stones = 3 chapters

500 stones of power = 5 chapters