{A/N: If you're not comfortable with torture scenes, feel free to skip those parts}
"Stupid Barbari," he said under his breath, his voice flat and low.
His other hand came up, fast.
Thud.
A fist slammed straight into her stomach.
She folded instantly, the air ripped from her lungs. Her knees hit the floor. No grace. No defense. Just pain.
Viserys stood over her like she was dirt. As if she'd insulted something sacred.
"System... Claim Three Mysterious Eggs"
As soon as Viserys let those scathing words fall from his lips, the air in front of him shimmered—like heat rising from blood-soaked stone. Then ding!
A golden, transparent screen blinked into existence midair.
{Ding! Caesar Has Accepted Tribute from the Mission "Awakening Of The Phoenix"!}
{Analyzing.....}
{Observing.....}
The letters pulsed with divine authority, each word etched in brilliant light that cast reflections on the bloodied floor. Viserys didn't flinch. His gaze locked on the screen, calm and unblinking, as if this surreal phenomenon was nothing new to him.
Then, like burning parchment, the glowing words faded.
They were swiftly replaced with a new set of messages, each one appearing with a heavy thunk sound, like ancient stone slabs being engraved:
{Caesar Still Has One More Tribute In The System Mail!}
{From the mission: "Make the Traitor Ball-less"}
{Tribute Includes: Two Greek Fire Balls, 1000 System Points, One Horny Pill}
Viserys stared at the screen, expression unreadable. The words hung in front of him like divine scripture, holy gifts bestowed upon the chosen.
Greek fire balls? literally. Explosive, violent. Perfect. He had used them before to burn down entire Germania, Would recommend 10/10!
System points? Useful.
...Horny pill?
His brow twitched. Just slightly.
The system, in all its wisdom, seemed to have a sense of humor. Or maybe it was just... Horny?.
Either way, Viserys gave a faint exhale that might've been a scoff, or just a breath caught in amusement. These weren't some legendary items… but they were his.
And honestly, that was enough.
After all, tributes were tributes.
Even if one of them could probably cause an accidental orgy or Incestuous orgy (🌚)
"Claim them too," Viserys muttered.
The system obeyed without question. In front of him, three small eggs floated into view, one golden, one blood-red, and one deep purple, each Had crude, uneven rune patterns like scars craved into their shell.
There was no glow. No divine light. They looked like something a mad alchemist would keep hidden under a floorboard.
Viserys grabbed them with his left hand. They were cold and solid. Rough textures pressed into his skin like old bone. They barely fit in his palm, his fingers curling tightly to stop them from slipping.
He stared at them, nose inches away, inspecting every inch. Even if he slammed them against the stone floor and jumped with both feet, he knew they wouldn't break. They were dense, unnatural.
Without a word, he released Daenerys from his grip. Her limp body dropped like dead weight, hitting the ground with a solid thud.
Her head bounced once before settling sideways. Her arms were twisted under her, and her breath came out in ragged, shallow gasps.
She was unconscious again. The punch had shut her body down. This wasn't like a slap from a mean brother. This had come from a man who once crushed a bear's ribcage with his bare hands.
He didn't look back.
Next, two glass orbs floated into existence, perfectly round and filled with some swirling, opaque liquid, like medicine or poison. Hard to tell.
Alongside them, a single capsule, bright red, unnatural in color, slick like it had already been coated in sweat.
He snatched them without ceremony, stuffing them into the right pocket of his trousers. His fingers lingered on the pill for a second longer, before burying it too.
With the eggs secure in his left pocket and the rest in his right pocket, Viserys turned back toward the blood-stained room.
Castratus lay on the floor like a gutted pig, unconscious and twitching. His groin was mangled. Blood soaked the floor beneath him, pooling in thick, dark patches that stuck to Viserys's boots.
Bits of stone and torn flesh littered the floor. The stench of piss was fresh. Someone had lost control of their bladder.
Aren, the boy, hadn't moved since his head smacked the stone floor. His eyes were shut, and his chest rose and fell in uneven rhythms.
The surviving dancer had retreated to the farthest corner, pressing herself flat against the wall, as if stone would save her. Her lips trembled. Her chest heaved. Her body was shaking like a leaf in winter.
Viserys looked over them all like a butcher eyeing livestock before the slaughter.
Then he muttered, voice flat and cold as iron....
"It's torture time."
Torture Starts
Viserys stepped over Castratus' body again, grinding his heel into the man's ribs without even a glance down. There was a crunch, but he didn't slow his pace.
His boots, still slick with blood, left prints behind him as he walked—step by deliberate step, toward the dancer in the corner.
Shira.
She was curled up near the edge of the wall, naked, her arms clutching her legs tightly against her chest. Her body was soaked in sweat, and not from exertion.
Every inch of her glistened, not with desire, but with dread. Her skin was pale. Her limbs trembled. Every time his footstep echoed through the hall, her body jerked like a puppet yanked by invisible strings.
The air was thick with iron and bile.
"THIS IS A DREAM... THIS IS A DREAM... THIS IS A DREAM..." she repeated again and again, louder each time, trying to anchor herself to some illusion of safety. Her voice cracked mid-sentence, desperate, unhinged. She wasn't crying yet. The shock hadn't let her.
The corpses of her friends and the mangled body of her lover lay only a few feet away, bleeding out on the same stones she danced across just hours earlier. Her world had collapsed in a heartbeat.
When Viserys reached her, she scrambled, naked feet slapping against stone, as she tried to press herself behind the thin curtain in the corner. It was pathetic, really. The cloth barely covered her. She pulled it around herself like a child hiding from monsters under bedsheets.
Viserys didn't speak. He just reached out and grabbed the edge of the curtain.
With one sharp yank, he tore it from the wall. The nails holding it up screeched against the stone as they were ripped free, clattering to the ground along with the shredded cloth.
Shira's body was exposed, bare, trembling, defenseless.
She didn't scream. Not yet. She just looked up at him with wide, glassy eyes, lips quivering as she tried to press herself into the corner, as if the stone behind her would open up and swallow her whole.
Viserys lowered his left hand and calmly reached out, fingers brushing against her chin. She tried to jerk away—but her body didn't move. Paralysis gripped her like chains. She could barely breathe.
Her chin rested in his palm now.
"P-please..." she finally stammered, voice barely a whisper. "L-let me l-live..."
Her words came out haltingly, dragged from a throat tightening with panic. Her eyes darted side to side, looking for escape, but there was none.
The way Viserys looked at her, she might as well have been a broken toy. Something inconvenient. Disposable. His expression didn't change. Not once.
Hearing her plea, Viserys didn't respond at first. He just stared at her, expression unreadable, calm in a way that made her feel even more exposed. Then, slowly, he knelt down before her, brushing away a strand of her hair stuck to her sweat-soaked cheek with the pad of his thumb.
"Do you know..." he began, voice low, even. Too calm. "A long time ago, in a place far from here... I burned down an entire region(Germania)."
His thumb dragged across her cheek, slow and deliberate, then circled back, caressing the soft skin just beneath her eye. Shira flinched at the touch, as if every nerve in her face recoiled. Her stomach turned.
"They killed a child in my capital," he continued, as if telling a bedtime story. "A street rat. Nobody important. But it happened on my watch. So I wiped their bloodline from the maps."
His thumb reached her lips, lingered, then pressed inward. Her mouth instinctively opened in fear and confusion, and he slipped the digit between her teeth, not caring that she gagged slightly at the intrusion.
"What makes you think I'll spare you," he whispered, the softness in his tone gone now, "after you tried to have me killed?"
The moment shattered. His gaze hardened. Whatever angelic mask he wore before dropped away.
Without warning, he drove his other hand upward, his fingers digging into her cheeks from the outside, nails biting into flesh. At the same time, the thumb in her mouth pressed down hard from within.
"Ghhhnn—!"
The sound she made was barely human. Her eyes flew wide as the pain surged through her skull. Blood welled up in her mouth as his nails tore into the tender muscle lining the inside of her cheeks.
Then—
CLEAK.
The sound was sickening. Tendons snapped. Bone cracked. Flesh tore.
Viserys wrenched his hands apart, one inside, one out, ripping her cheek wide open from both directions. Skin split, muscle gave way, and blood sprayed across his forearm and the stone floor beneath them.
Shira didn't scream. She couldn't. The pain stole the breath from her lungs. Her body went limp, lips quivering around the ruin of her face, eyes fluttering, unfocused.
He let go, letting her slump sideways into the pool of her own blood.
And he just stood, silent, wiping his thumb clean on her hair like it was nothing more than spilt wine.
Viserys reached into his pocket without looking, fingers brushing past the strange, warm shape of the pill before settling on the cool, round glass sphere.
For a second, he pulled out the wrong thing, an accident anyone might make, but he gave the horny pill a glance, scoffed at it, and shoved it back down.
Focus. The real weapon was still there.
He wrapped his hand around the Greek fire ball and walked over to the crumpled figure in front of him.
Shira was curled on her side now, sobbing hoarsely, her face half-shredded, blood matting her hair and pooling beneath her chin. Her back was turned to him, foolish.
"You never show your back to Caesar," he muttered under his breath, almost like a lesson spoken aloud. His father's voice echoed in his skull, cold and bitter. You show your back, boy, and you'll take the whip like a whore. He remembered the bruises. He remembered the lesson.
He crouched down. The sphere gleamed in his palm like an innocent trinket, but he knew better. This thing was made to kill.
Without hesitation, he pried apart her legs with the sole of his boot. She didn't resist. She couldn't. The shock had taken her mind elsewhere, maybe already to death.
He slipped the glass orb toward the dark entrance where no sunlight ever touched—only violence. It fit with resistance. The orb was wide, too wide, but he pressed forward with the heel of his boot, grinding it in inch by inch.
The pain should have made her scream. But she only twitched. Her throat worked like she wanted to cry out, but nothing came.
Then the orb cracked.
BOOM.
The explosion was small in sound, but vicious in result. Flame erupted outward from within her, the chemical fire taking to flesh and blood in a blink. Her body seized once, just once, and then convulsed violently, smoke and the stench of burning meat filling the cavern.
Her screams never came. They could never with that mouth.
In seconds, she was a thing that burned.
"Oh, Gods! Why am I so Merciful?!"
........
[A/N]
Okay, okay. Before anyone comments something like "tHiS wAs tOo MuCh", let me remind you, I put the villain tag in the description a long time ago. I've also clearly stated that the MC is a psychopath when it comes to threats against him.
Now, I don't want people to misunderstand his character, so let me clarify it once again:
He's not the type of psychopath who kills for no reason. Yes, he enjoys killing. He takes pleasure in it. But he doesn't kill just for fun.
If a child bumps into him on the street, he's not going to slaughter them. He's not that unhinged.
But if someone tries to harm him? Then yeah, he'll make their entire bloodline regret it. He won't just punish the attacker. He'll go after everything they love and ruin it.
And his way of torture? It's not just physical. He breaks people mentally too.
If you've been paying attention, Shira wasn't just a dancer. Her character was a seductress, someone who climbed her way up through beauty, sex, and manipulation.
So what did Viserys do? He destroyed both the tools she relied on: her face and her body. That's how he works. He strips people of what matters most to them before finishing the job.
Anyway, that's enough yapping from me.
If you're enjoying the story so far, leave a comment, it keeps me motivated.
Also, here's a little something extra: a map of the Roman Empire during Viserys' reign in his past life.
Enjoy.
Have a good day.