Shadow Slave Chapter 3130

The next few days were as ghastly as Effie had expected them to be. Azarax was boiling with rage, and he had myriad ways to take it out on her. Of course, he never really lost control — she'd be dead in a moment if he did — and while he wanted her to believe that his mind was overcome by rage, she could see that all his gruesome feats of cruelty were meticulously calculated.

Azarax never truly lost control. Hidden behind his arrogance and outwardly unabashed savagery was a cold, calculating mind. He was always shrewd, knowing exactly how much unrestrained wickedness he could allow himself.

Azarax's true goal was to break Effie's spirit. And to do that, he had wisely decided to break her physically first — the body and the spirit were inseparably connected, after all. But even then, Azarax was careful not to damage her too badly... not to ruin her altogether, since he wanted her to become a thrall after all of it was over and the Steel Horde moved on to its next conquest.

In fact, Effie had a feeling that he wanted her to become his second-in-command. He wanted her to lead the Steel Horde as he conquered the rest of the mortal realms — to become the first of the new Dread Generals, no less.

So, no matter how ghastly his torture was, she could still endure it... somewhat. It was monstrous and gruesome, but not nearly as terrifying as what she had experienced at the hands of the Dreamspawn. Azarax was not starving her, at least — he did not know what her Flaw was, after all — and he was not using her husband to turn the whole ordeal into a morbid nightmare.

In fact, he was not doing anything that would leave a permanent mark on her... after a good healer tended to her wounds, that was. There were plenty of powerful healers in the Steel Horde, sadly, so that allowed Azarax to do quite a lot.

His methods were both simple and effective. There were the utterly mundane forms of abuse and torture, such as beating, cutting, burning, breaking, and drowning. There were more esoteric ones, as well, such as twisting the channels through which soul essence flowed through her body and wreaking havoc in her soul.

The ancients knew far more about the fine art of torturing Awakened than her own people. In that regard, at least, Effie had to give credit where credit was due.

She thought that she was holding up well... at least as well as anyone could be expected to hold up while being tortured and maimed. But, at the same time, she found herself slowly being reduced to a bloodied, scared beast who shivered when it heard the footsteps of its captor.

Effie was still a person, after all. She was not immune to pain, nor was she immune to the fear of pain. So, Azarax's methods, while crude, could not be called ineffective.

Effie still refused to obey him, though. She remained steadfast in her defiant refusal... even if, after a while, he did manage to make her beg for mercy.

On that day, Azarax finally smiled. He was standing there, covered in her blood from head to toe, looking at her with an expression of content and satisfaction.

"There is progress after all, huh, priestess?"

Leaning closer, he studied her pale face and grinned.

“Good! To be honest, I was growing quite bored with this arrangement. Shall we come up with something new, then? There's a crowd of people outside this tent clamoring to get to know you better, priestess. Do help me bolster their morale."

Effie wanted to protest and say that she would actually prefer if he tortured her some more. But even if she didn't want to admit it, these past few days had taught her caution... fear, even. So, she held her tongue.

'Well... he's bored now. Nothing I could do about it, is there?'

Azarax was a very busy man, after all. He had already dedicated a lot of his time to her — a dubious honor, but an honor nonetheless. So, it was no surprise that he wanted to outsource tormenting her to someone else.

His soldiers were starting to feel the lack of provisions by now, and the ghastly fates of their comrades were still fresh in their minds. They also knew that Effie was to blame for all their woes, which probably motivated them to tear her apart a great deal.

For a moment, Effie thought that Azarax had finally decided to kill her. Dying did not seem like such a bad idea, after everything she had to experience as of late... but no, she still wanted to live. She wanted to live desperately. After all, there were people waiting for her to return. Her husband, her son — she couldn't die so easily, at least for their sake.

Plus, she doubted that Azarax would really allow her to die. Why would he do something like that after spending so much effort carefully keeping her alive?

And, in a sense, getting access to his soldiers was beneficial to her. So, she did not mind.

In the end, Effie ended up chained to a post in front of Azarax's tent, this time wearing a collar around her neck. She spent her time sitting in the mud, her back leaning against the post, observing the movements of the soldiers with bleak eyes. The tendons in her feet had been severed, so she couldn't stand up even if she wanted to. Her body was void of essence, making her as weak as a kitten. Well... a Transcendent kitten, at least.

The soldiers of the Steel Horde were free to do whatever they wished with her. However, they mostly stayed away, only glaring at her with hatred from afar.

That was because there were a dozen corpses lying in the mud around her, about as far as the length of the chain allowed her to move.

These were the corpses of the soldiers who had tried to lay their hands on the chained priestess of War, but ended up being killed by her instead.