Cheat Awakening

After taking a critical hit to his self-esteem, the fatty fell silent for a few seconds. However, he soon recovered his usual demeanour. The thick skin on his body wasn't just for decoration. He was shameless enough to shrug off such minor insults without blinking.

Under the strange expressions of the six weirdos watching him, he straightened his back, leaned forward dramatically, and pretended to be deep in thought while rubbing his thick chin.

This shameless act of feigning seriousness lasted for three minutes, until No.1, unlike the fatty, didn't have all day to waste on such trivialities and couldn't take it anymore and broke the silence.

"Mr. Gristle, what is your further plan for your 'Wife'?"

Hearing No.1's voice, the fatty put on a confused expression as if truly pondering something so serious that he forgot everything else. However, 6 weirdoes mouth couldn't help but twist weirdly seeing this, clearly revealing that the fatty small tricks, which seemed perfect in his eyes, were nothing but a joke in theirs.

Then the fatty leaned back on his throne and spoke casually with an indifferent tone.

"What plan? Just do what you usually do with the others. No special treatment is necessary just because she's my wife. Oh, and if possible, take it to the extreme level. No need to hold back at all."

After saying that, the fatty glared at Roswell with eyes full of murderous intent. However, something made him hesitate, and ultimately he spoke again, "...By the way, leave out the birthing torture. Just forget about that one."

As if depleted of all his strength saying that, the fatty collapsed back on his throne and closed his eyes. He couldn't bear to look at his seven overpowered subordinates who were probably laughing at him for showing a shred of compassion towards his "whore wife."

"As you wish. I didn't expect that your husband would be so, so... ahmm, what should I call it, cowardly?" No.1 muttered into Rosewell's ear, who was lying on the fake altar weakly, her body occasionally twisting from the pain. Tears overflowed from her eyes, but there was nothing she could do. Even screaming or crying was very hard for her.

After that, he turned around and returned to his original position, and No. 2 stepped forward. This man took out a small leather roll-up pouch and spread it beside Roswell. Inside lay hundreds of thin, 25-centimetre needles, a small silver hammer engraved with unknown red runes, and a small bottle of thick, blue substance.

No.2 opened the bottle, picked up the silver hammer which instantly pulsed with red magic symbols upon touching the handle, and grabbed a needle. He dipped it into the unknown blue substance before placing the tip on the back of Roswell's right hand. With a sharp thud, he hammered the needle into her flesh with brutal force.

"AHHHH!"

Another scream erupted from Roswell, no less agonizing than the one she let out when forced to drink the unknown potion at the start. The fatty, feigning death in the background, couldn't help but open his eyes and looked at her with a conflicted expression. It would be a lie to say he didn't care about Rosewell. He had indeed loved her when they were first married.

However, that all changed when he learned he couldn't become a father. Now, he was too far gone to turn back.

No.2 ignored Roswell's heart-wrenching screams. In fact, he seemed to take a twisted pleasure in them. A hidden excitement gleamed in his eyes as he picked up another needle, dipped it in the blue substance, and hammered it beside the first one, eliciting another horrific scream from Roswell.

"Gulp!"

The fatty swallowed hard, wiping the cold sweat from his forehead. He watched his wife scream like a pig, thrashing her head around and occasionally begging for mercy, but the torturer remained unmoved.

It's hard to believe they're hammering needles into her soul instead of her flesh. That must be a thousand times worse than a regular wound. I never understand why those guys like to mess with the soul so much. Did I mess with the wrong people? The fatty's internal monologue trailed off as he continued to watch his wife's horrifying ordeal.

One by one, No. 2 continued his work, hammering each of the 500 needles into Roswell's body under her neck, not leaving a single spot untouched. As her clothes got in the way, he ripped them apart. However, if someone were to ask where Roswell cried the most in pain, it would undoubtedly be her breasts and vaginal area.

It was a literal hell on earth, even for the fatty who had witnessed it multiple times and felt a chill run down his spine.

No. 2 looked at his "artwork" covered in needles with satisfaction. He flicked a needle he'd hammered into the centre of Roswell's nipple with his finger, then grabbed his leather roll-up pouch and returned to his place, leaving the platform for No. 3 to enlighten others with his work.

Compared to his previous two brothers or sisters, this guy was gentler. He simply conjured a three-meter-tall glass tank out of thin air and placed it beside Roswell's altar. With a wave of his hand, he opened the lid, chanted an incantation, and caused Roswell's half-lifeless body to float inside before closing it again.

Number Three then sat down on the altar, covered in Roswell's blood, urine, and even a small amount of faeces, without a care for dirtying his clothes. He took out a small black compass-like device, but it was obviously not a compass. As soon as he pressed the button on the side, its glass surface lit up like a magic lamp, displaying various unknown symbols.

No.3 touched the surface several times, and a greenish liquid suddenly rose from the black floor of the tank, quickly filling it entirely. Explore more stories with empire

Rosewell, unconscious and seemingly about to drown in the greenish liquid, suddenly seemed revitalized, as if someone had cast a high-level healing skill on her. All the needles embedded in her body automatically came out, and the wounds healed instantly. She opened her eyes in confusion and looked around. Seeing the liquid surrounding her, she initially struggled, fearing she might drown.

However, after two minutes with no difficulty breathing or feeling of water entering her body, she calmed down.

Seeing Roswell in good condition, No.3 nodded slightly. He pressed the compass-like device a few more times, and the green liquid in the tank drained into the floor, disappearing completely. Roswell was left standing alone in the tank, hesitantly covering her private parts while opening and closing her mouth, but no sound came out. It seemed this guy preferred silence to ear-piercing screams.

After all the green liquid drained, No.3 clicked the device one last time and put it away. He looked at Roswell, but his expression was hidden by his hood.

Just as everyone waited patiently under Roswell's horrified gaze, the entire lid of the tank became covered in tiny needle-sized holes. Soon, a drop of water began to fall from each one like rain. At first, Roswell didn't feel anything and thought it was just water. But soon, the water transformed into a white liquid as hot as lava, and another round of horrendous torture began.

However, this time, it was only a visual effect with no sound. Although everyone saw Roswell screaming and running back and forth in the tank. Yes, running, because the green healing liquid had restored control of her body as well. But where can she run?

Soon the acid rain burned her entire body so badly that all her outer skin peeled away, all the hair on her body burned and fell down, blood flooded the tank, and even at the last moment because of pain, she herself started scratching herself crazily as if she wanted to big out her own flesh and end her life. White smoke filled the tank with an unbearable, sickening smell of burning flesh.

This process lasted for five minutes until the acid in the tank filled Rosewell's knee, which was more than enough to bring Roswell to the brink of death. If it weren't for the special runic symbols on the tank glowing brightly in golden light, illuminating half the hall, showing they were working at full capacity, I am afraid Rosewell would have long departed from this world.

She might have melted into that acid like a candle and now there might only her skeleton were floating in the tank. The acid of No.3 was powerful enough that she couldn't have lasted even 30 seconds, let alone five minutes.

After the acid rain stopped, all the acid in the tank drained quickly, and the green liquid filled the tank again. The smoke now completely obscured the view, making it difficult for the audience to see inside. However, under the miraculous effect of the healing liquid, Roswell had completely healed again.

It was just her eyes that looked lifeless, as if only her body had recovered, while her soul had long ago died.