Transmigrated As The Perverted Young Master
Chapter 45 The Heart Of Darkness! (5)

Damien lay there, blood dripping from all of his body, forming a small puddle where he lay, without power nor motivation to stand up.

The idea of fighting spirit and never giving up felt ridiculous to him right now, as he doesn't feel the need to even defend himself.

He opened his left eye, which he was only able to open halfway, thanks to the injury. The right eye was like a teenager, refusing to come out just because of a light spank in the butt.

The dolly eye caught the bloody hand drawing back, pulling it all the way to the back for maximum power, then releasing it. The bloody knuckle grew closer and closer, he could see it in slow motion.

The way it was approaching him, Damien knew what would happen next. He closed his eyes again, feeling the intense pain. It wasn't long before that pain turned into a warm glow in his head as the finger slammed against his skull. The damned knuckle slammed over and over on his head, he couldn't stop the pain from coming.

"You want to be fucked by me? You fucking little bitch?" The voice said while the finger continued its assault. "I'll fuck you so hard your head will pop."

He could see his silhouette, sitting on top of him with a maniac grin...or something, he couldn't make out with his half-closed one eye. The voice laughed loudly, but Damien didn't hear anything after that.

Where did everything go wrong? How the hell is there a fucking arc like this missing from the book?

Damien thought as he lay there, unable to move.

His hand was still twitching, and he realized he had to do something. If he wanted to survive, he needed to get away from here, and fast.

But his body felt heavy, and his limbs refused to obey him. The pain was unbearable, and his head felt like it was about to split open. He took a deep breath and tried to gather his strength, but it was like trying to move a mountain.

"I'm going to crush your skull until there's nothing left," the voice said, and Damien couldn't believe how close it came. He can see it again, the finger slowly moving towards his face.

It was a miracle that he didn't lose consciousness yet, and even more of a miracle that he managed to hold on to his sanity.

But I have to get up!

In the distance, somewhere, he could hear a voice frantically calling his name. Crying and wailing. The sound was soothing, but he couldn't pinpoint where the source was nor remember who it belongs.

"Watch it yourself, little bitch, how I am going to kill him breaking his damn skull." The man said no-sneered, burying his hand deep into his face again.

He clenched his teeth, and his whole body shook in pain as he remembered the days when he lived with his mother. She used to wake him up every morning with a slap on the cheek, urging him to work so he can look after them all. He remembered his little sister throwing away his birthday present for her because she didn't like it. "It is worthless and useless," she had said, looking venomously at him. But that was all the money he had left after giving his mother. He wanted to say that to her, but he didn't.

Why am I even thinking about the past now? Is this the moment where I remember my past just before I die?

He tried to chuckle, a throaty sound was all he could produce from his teeth-missing mouth.

"Huh?...what was that? You're enjoying this?" The man said. "You're really, really enjoying this, aren't you? You little masochist!" He dug his knuckle on his skull again, this time it was his open mouth. The knuckle perfectly connected with his remaining teeth, knocking it inside his mouth which made him choke on the fallen tooth. He frantically crooked his head to the side and coughed the tooth off. Then he hit again, this time connecting with his remaining eye, making it close off.

It was dark. Dark and lonely and painful. There was no sight nor sound. Nothing was real anymore. He wasn't sure if he was alive or dead. He was in pain and tired, and the only thing he could do was wait and welcome his death.

As Damien lay there, he could feel the last vestiges of life slipping away from him. The pain was almost unbearable, and he could feel his body growing weaker by the second. The thought of death loomed large in his mind, and he wondered what awaited him on the other side.

Was there an afterlife? Or was this all there was, just an endless void of nothingness? The questions raced through his mind, but he knew that he would never replace the answers.

He tried to move, to muster the strength to fight back, but it was all in vain. The darkness was closing in around him, and he could feel the cold embrace of death reaching out for him.

In his final moments, he couldn't help but think about the dual life he had lived. It had been a difficult one, filled with pain and suffering, but there had been moments of joy and happiness as well. Memories flooded his mind, and he relived them one by one, savoring the sweetness of each moment.

He remembered Lily, her warm and welcoming smile.

Gosh! She was beautiful.

But as the darkness enveloped him, he knew that it was all coming to an end. His time on this planet too was up, and there was nothing he could do to change that.

And then, just as he was about to slip away into oblivion, he heard a voice. It was dark and sinister, and it whispered to him in a language he couldn't understand. But somehow, he knew what it was saying.

"Do you want to live?" It whispers. "Do you want to kill those who wronged you?"

Damien's eyes widened as he heard the voice in his head. It was dark and sinister, with a quality that made his skin crawl. He wasn't sure if he was imagining it or if the voice was real, but he couldn't ignore the presence that seemed to be speaking.

At first, he was afraid. What kind of power could this be? Was it some sort of trick, some cruel joke played on him by the universe?

Damien could feel his heart racing, and he wondered if he should answer.

But as he lay there, with death closing in all around him, he realized that he had nothing to lose. If this voice was offering him a chance to live, to fight back against the darkness, then he would take it.

"I want to live." He gasped, barely getting the words out.

The voice laughed, a chilling and evil sound. "So be it," it said.

A ball of bright blue light appeared in front of him, in the endless void. He reached out a shaking and bloody hand and grabbed it. As soon as his fingers touched the sphere, the light expanded, filling his vision with colors and sounds and smells. A million different voices were talking to him, telling him stories, teaching lessons and showing images.

Suddenly, Damien felt a surge of energy within him, a spark that ignited a fire of determination. The pain and darkness that had consumed him were still there, but now, he felt like he could face them head-on.

...

Blaire was looking at the bloody and gore scene with her hands closed on her ears. She doesn't want to hear it, the damn sound of body breaking.

Her heart was racing as she watched the brutal scene unfold before her eyes. The sounds of bones breaking and flesh tearing made her stomach churn, and she could feel the bile rising in her throat. She couldn't believe what she was seeing, but she couldn't tear her eyes away either.

As the monster pulled his fist out of the Damien's skull, Blaire felt her body shake with a wave of nausea. She wanted to scream, to run away and never look back, but she was frozen in place. The horror of the moment had paralyzed her, and she felt as though she was drowning in a sea of emotions she couldn't control.

Tears streamed down Blaire's face as she tried to block out the images and sounds assaulting her senses. She felt like she was trapped in a nightmare, unable to wake up and escape the terror surrounding her. Her mind was racing, trying to process what she was witnessing, but she couldn't make sense of it.

The trauma of the moment was overwhelming, and Blaire felt like she was going to collapse under the weight of it all. She wanted to scream for help, to call out for someone to make it stop, but she couldn't replace her voice. All she could do was watch in horror as the violence continued, feeling more and more helpless with each passing moment.

She had to do something or else...or else.

She refused to believe it. She refused to give up.

She darted her eyes around, searching for something --anything--to grab onto, her eyes suddenly locked on something shiny lying near the wall. It was a small piece of metal, covered in blood, and it looked familiar to her.

Blair picked up the knife, holding it tightly between her two hands.

As she gripped the knife, she could feel a surge of power coursing through her veins. It was as though the weapon had awakened something deep inside her, something she didn't know existed until that moment. She felt a sense of purpose, a determination to stop the violence and protect herself- to protect him from harm.

·ƈθm The blade glinted in the dim light, a sharp contrast to the blood and gore surrounding her. Blaire felt a strange sense of calm wash over her as she held the weapon, as though she had found a tool to channel her fear and anger into something productive.

In that moment, she realized that sometimes, we have to face our deepest fears head-on in order to replace our strength. Sometimes, the only way out of a terrifying situation is to confront it head-on, to replace the courage to take action and fight back against the darkness.

She had no idea what was going to happen next, but she knew one thing for certain: she was not going to give up. She would use every ounce of strength and bravery she had to survive this nightmare, and emerge stronger on the other side.

With a deep breath, Blaire took a step forward, knife in hand.