Chapter 2 – Submission
I muttered within my faint consciousness. As I awoke, I was again lying on the hard floor. Soon, my memories before I lost consciousness came back to me.
I feel like vomiting but somehow resist.
With the paralysis now not in effect, I became able to make groaning sounds like this, and somehow, also able to move my body.
On putting my hand on my head, a hard sensation came to my fingers. Without a doubt, that evil, needle spewing ring is currently completely attached to my head.
“Shit……this is the worst….”
Although it wasn’t painful, receiving something like that torture-like treatment out of nowhere, anyone would curse once or twice. But, with this my freedom of body has returned. First, I should confirm the situation I’m in.
I’m currently in same type of empty room where I was first kept. There is no pedestal in the centre anymore. Seriously, it’s nothing but walls. Even the ceiling is also white.
In the front, there is a similar white door but, I doubt it would be unlocked. Seriously, without any windows I’m starting to feel depressed. Huh? Wait, if there are no windows does that mean I’m in the basement?
Well if it’s meant to act as a jail, it’s a valid arrangement alright.
My attire has also become similar to those masked men i.e white clothes.
Though there is no mantle or mask, it is quite a simple one piece robe-like cloth. By the way, I am also wearing underwear.
Is this a prison uniform? No, it’s not certain that I am in a prison yet. But still, no matter how I look at it I don’t think I’m in Japan anymore.
Those guys were speaking in a weird foreign language; even these clothes are weird. Nowadays even people in developing countries wear western styled clothes. These bare handmade clothes are definitely unusual.
No, wait a second, if those guys are a super dangerous evil religious creed, then that mysterious language, which could make even a chuunibyou patient run, might be their original language. These clothes might also be some kind of handmade cosplay clothes with deep meaning behind it.
If I think like that, then it’s not necessary that I’m in some faraway foreign country. I could be in some kind of religious facility hidden deep inside the mountains of Japan.
But, why did I have to get dragged into something like this……….
For the time being, the fact that I am alive and in one piece means that I’m not going to be immediately killed. Wait, even if I don’t die, am I going to be subjected to tortures like that ring from now on? That would be the worst. If it’s going to be like that, I might as well bite my tongue and face a peaceful death instead. I refuse to die in a situation where I am killed while begging for my life.
Anyway, whether this some foreign country or Japan, I must think of a way to escape this place. It’s best to take as much distance as possible from dangerous people like these who can calmly put things like this torture tool on someone’s head. Or so I say, but for now all I can do is check whether the door in front of me is locked or not.
As I stood up and took a step towards the door, with a *gachari* sound, the door started opening.
Automatic door? That’s not possible. Then that means someone from the other side has opened it.
And the one who had opened the door was, as expected, the same masked men.
「أوه، كنت مستيقظا بالفعل، كنت تتوقع من هيئة التنين الأسود قوي」
As usual I can’t understand anything of what the masked man is saying in his original lingo. On hearing it again, it does give somewhat of an English-like feel but………No, before that I should pay attention their movement.
I put myself on guard, but the masked seemed to worry more about whatever was behind him than me. It seems there are other masked men behind him too. 2 masked men entered the room and I moved towards the wall trying to take some distance from them.
And then another one came in, or so thought, but I became unable to look away from his face. That is because he was not wearing a mask and showing his bare face.
Realizing that he wasn’t Japanese in a single glance, he was a white-skinned old man with a finely chiselled face. His hair was hidden inside his hood but most probably it was completely white and his eyes were blue. His age was easily above 60. And he also had a proud white beard to top it off.
Could it be that this old man was the leader of those masked men? Wait, they aren’t going to start calling him a living god or something, right?
As I was sending a doubtful gaze, the geezer( he made me face such hardships, so I’ll call him geezer) looked at me with suspicious eyes.
At that moment, I was attacked by an intense headache.
To have your head break must be something like this, no, I really thought it might break.
Pain strong enough to think you are about to die, but what was actually giving me pain was the ‘will’ of somebody else that kept on resounding inside of my head.
Inside of my head, a different thought started rampaging on its own.
The cause of the pain was, without a doubt, this thought, and I understood that the source was this geezer in front of me intuitively.
As I fell on the hard floor I looked towards the geezer with teary eyes. With not anger, but purely as if begging in an unsightly manner.
Before fainting, the ache stopped, and at that moment I realized that I could not against this geezer, no all the masked men. Or rather I was forced to be like that.
The effect of the headache still remaining, I was unable to stand immediately when the thought came into my head.
Again, the headache slowly started coming back. I forced myself and unsteadily stood up. It was a feeling worse than vomiting, but it was better than being attacked by that headache again.
With a rough breath, I stood up and faced the geezer.
「القيود تشغل غرامة」
The geezer, similar to the masked men, said words I was unable to understand.
I just stood there unable to give any sort of reaction.
The geezer could send me thoughts, but it was a vague image that could not be put in words.
I was unable to understand the purpose.
But then, I don’t think I would be able to have a smooth communication with them even if words could be said.
As the thought was relayed, the geezer turned back and started walking.
Unable to resist, with staggering steps, all I could do was follow the back on which an emblem of a cross was painted.
As I crossed the door, I saw the tunnel continuing in darkness. As if ominously predicting that compared to the hell that lay in my future, it might be much better to just commit suicide right now.