Disclaimers are located in the first chapter.
CHAPTER-SPECIFIC WARNINGS/ALERTS: the usual. Swearing. A positively evil chapter.
Chapter 3
One Blow to the Heart
Ra rose without missing a beat, illuminating the land, creeping into the Pharaoh's bedchamber, and casting his bright light onto the face of Kemet's king.
Lavender eyes snapped open.
With a smirk on his face, the viceroy of Kush—now the new Pharaoh of Kemet—rose; ready, if not ecstatic, to begin the fourth day of his reign.
He didn't bother shielding his eyes as he approached the open balcony, basking in the morning light and breathing in the fresh air. He gazed at the city beneath and beyond him.
Under his command, the land was not razed. The buildings still stood tall. The temples were hardly touched. Even the destruction wrought by the demon was slowly being undone.
After all, what kind of king he'd be if his kingdom was in shambles? Definitely not a powerful one.
A thought crossed his mind. A sombre reminder. It wiped the gleeful smirk from his face and replaced it with a scowl.
The Items.
That stubborn ex-Pharaoh still refused to reveal their whereabouts even after his many attempts at changing his mind. He's resilient, the viceroy had to admit. For three days and nights, he kept his resolve. Sure, his body would break and surrender, but his will never faltered. Even his extensive knowledge of persuasion couldn't punch through the midget's defiance.
But persistence usually paid off. Everyone had their breaking point. He just had to keep at it. Time was on his side.
With that in mind, the new Pharaoh decided to begin this day the same way he did for the past three days.
…
Bruised. Bloody. Incredibly weak. The Pharaoh could barely lift his head. It's the only movable part of his naked body that remained unbound, its weight now akin to a boulder. His arms, legs, and even his torso were shackled and/or weighed down onto this spike-lined chair he'd been forced to sit on. The agony was persistent, keeping him from resting. Sharp metal points dug into his flesh. Thankfully, his tormentor had put out the fire that burned the seat red hot before he left for the night.
"Good morning, my dear ex-Pharaoh!"
Speak of which…
Footsteps clicked against the stone floor. The bound Pharaoh groaned at his tormentor's return. It signalled the start of another day. The beginning of a new ordeal.
But the purpose remained the same.
The Items' whereabouts.
He stayed motionless, head still bowed even when he felt the viceroy's presence beside him. Even when that hand pressed his bound arm on the spiked armrest. He winced. His body tensed. But no sound escaped him.
"Tch. Stubborn ass."
No matter what, he'd never say. Even after his body was shredded by the barbed whip, wounds burned closed by hot iron on the first day; limbs pulled painfully and dislocated by the rack before being debased by the viceroy and his men on the second; locked in the spike cage contoured to his form while being roasted alive before finally perched on this nightmare throne on the third.
Now, it's the fourth. He was weak and disoriented. Senses yet to be sharpened by the merciless bucket of cold seawater often used to wake him, or bring him back from the recesses of his mind. He idly wondered what technique would be used this time around.
His jaw was grabbed, pulled up, and manhandled open. A glob of something was shoved into his mouth before the delivering hand slapped over his lips.
He instinctively struggled to spit it out.
"You damn bastard! You should be grateful that I even bother feeding you!" the viceroy shouted, burying his free hand on the captive's slightly drooped mane.
The Pharaoh finally acknowledged the man with a glare. His stomach rumbled at the thought food. He hadn't eaten since he was captured. But his pride refused to let him accept nourishment from the enemy.
That, and the meal was vile!
Smirking, "I even went through the trouble of preparing batarekh* for you," the viceroy taunted, eyes on the small plate by the prisoner's feet where a small pile of orange caviar sat.
The Pharaoh groaned as the viceroy stood, hands still gripping him, forcing his head to tilt upwards. His eyes were starting to water. To his horror, the man pinched his nose closed.
"You're in no position to be picky." The viceroy tightened his grip. "Now." He viciously shook the former king's head. "SWALLOW!"
If he could hold on to his breath until death claimed him, he would. But his body refused to be denied of air. He swallowed the disgusting meal and breathed generously once the obstinate hand relented. When the viceroy delivered the second serving, however…
The King of Pain howled in agony. The Pharaoh bit his hand! Hard! "You nasty son of a bitch!" He shoved the tri-coloured head into the stubbed headrest, forcing the prisoner to release his now-throbbing fingers. Cradling his swelling digits, he growled at the king who had no problem hiding his insubordination.
The little thing's so stubborn, it's no longer funny!
"So the king of pain knows nothing about real pain…. How disappointing."
The door had been opened, unnoticed by the two occupants. The viceroy seethed upon seeing his foreign companion standing by the frame, silhouetted by the light outside. "Don't test my patience!" he snarled.
Dartz merely shook his head, a smirk on his face. "I just want to show you an effective way to get our dear Pharaoh to talk. But if you're not interested—"
"Cut the fucking dramatics and just get to the point!"
Genuinely taken aback by the viceroy's outburst, Dartz let it slide. But his irritation showed in how he merely reached behind him.
It was someone bound, gagged, and garbed in rags. Someone whose messy brown hair, bruised body, and terrified olive-green eyes shattered the Pharaoh's heart, doing what the viceroy failed to do in just a few seconds. Tears falling from his fearful eyes, strength surging through his battered body, the Pharaoh couldn't stop himself from pulling at his bonds and crying out,
"MANA!"
Giving the speechless viceroy a triumphant look, Dartz dragged the girl by the arm before throwing her at the panicking Pharaoh's feet.
Regaining control of himself, the Pharaoh glared at Dartz. "What did you do to her?!"
That damnable smirk graced the pale face. "Whatever's necessary to break you." The Pharaoh growled in response. Like a prideful peacock, Dartz turned his back on the bound king and glanced at the still speechless viceroy. "Physical pain isn't the only kind of pain in this world. One blow to the heart is more painful than a thousand to the body. Remember that, King of Pain."
Despite the lecturing tone reminiscent of a teacher calling the attention of a misbehaving student, the viceroy couldn't help but be impressed. Slowly clapping his hands, "Well done." A smirk on his lips, "Guess there's more to you that meets the eye. I have an idea where this is going but…" He takes out his dagger, momentarily glancing at the blade's sheen, twirling it nimbly in one hand before handing it, hilt first, to Dartz. "Why don't you impress me further?"
The Pharaoh's eyes darted from the knife in Dartz's hand to Mana lying on the ground. Those terrified eyes were trying to tell him something. "No." Heart racing, he futilely tried to get up as Dartz grabbed the girl. "You let her go! NOW!"
"That depends on your answer, Pharaoh," Dartz responded, standing before the king with Mana in a chokehold. The sharp tip of the knife was held to her throat. "Do I need to remind you of the question?"
The Pharaoh opened and closed his mouth, lost for words. Both heart and mind were in a frightened frenzy, numbing the pain but preventing him from thinking straight.
The Items.
Mana's life for the Items.
A million lives for Mana's
I can't do this…
Mana's muffled cry cut him off. Dartz had dragged the knife down her arm! "STOP!" he cried out.
Breaking. He was slowly breaking. His heart threatened to leap out of his chest and flee!
"We don't have all day," the foreigner said darkly, blood staining his garments while his strange eyes glinted in a glare. It made him look menacing. Like a vicious snake poised to strike. Even the viceroy never looked that cold-blooded. He replaced the knife against Mana's neck. "The Items or the next one will be across her throat!"
His heart's wild struggle echoed in his ears. Sweat slicked his skin despite the gripping cold that descended in the room. Mana's eyes were on him. Frightened. Pleading.
He couldn't take it anymore!
"I DON'T KNOW!" He sobbed, voice agonizingly torn while tears slipped from his eyes. "I-I don't know!" A gasp, "I-I had it hidden away. In a place I do not know!" He mustered the strength to look at his captors, broken and defeated. "Please," he begged. "Let her go. Do what you want with me. Just leave her out of this!"
The foreigner narrowed his eyes.
Enraged, the viceroy charged towards his captive, fist pulled back. Dartz, once again, foiled him. "For fuck's sake—"
"He's telling the truth," he explained, releasing the viceroy's wrist. "You're just wasting your strength."
Despite that, the viceroy landed a blow to the weeping Pharaoh's face. Shrugging off the look Dartz was giving him. "I wanted to." Spoken like a petulant child, arms folded to match.
Rolling his eyes, Dartz turned to the Pharaoh, the weakened girl still in his grip. Once he earned the king's gaze, he dragged the knife across his hostage's neck. All the while, maintaining eye-contact.
The Pharaoh let loose the anguished cry Mana failed to voice. She fell to the ground, eyes open and dead. Her body began to glow a sick green before her form dissolved.
The lifeless form of a raven-haired servant girl in her place.
Though now aware of the illusion, the damage had been done. The Pharaoh wept quietly, ignoring his captors' condescending gazes.
The illusion took the viceroy by surprise, but he wasn't disappointed. On the contrary, it elated him with an epiphany. "I think I know just who has the information we need."
Dartz gave him a knowing look before heading for the exit. "And I have an idea on how to catch them." He stopped, glanced back at the limp Pharaoh. "The Pharaoh hasn't outlived his use as of yet."
A/N: I'm aware that some aren't pleased with my depiction of Atem's reaction to torture. Yes. I agree that Atem's a strong character. One who isn't easily broken. That's why I rewrote Sealed Fate. In this fic's case, I have taken advantage of Atem's obvious weakness—endangering his loved ones. In the anime, Atem breaks whenever his loved ones are harmed. In Battle City Finals where Jounouchi nearly died, that tore Atem apart. But the most significant would be when Yugi's soul was taken. It's the reason why, among the villains, the one I believe was closest to beating Atem, character-wise, would be Dartz. Dartz got inside his head. Used Yugi against him (literally) and nicked at his personal insecurities. It was effective. He made Atem fall… albeit temporarily.
Notes:
*Batarekh – Egyptian caviar. According to the (fans') translation of the new Japanese character guidebook that came out along with a lot of stuff regarding the new movie coming in 2016 (which is set after the original manga ended. Yay!), it is Atem's least favorite food. His favorite is "Ta'amiya" which is Egyptian falafel made of white fava beans. His birthday is on "3rd Harvesting month, 19th" of the Egyptian Calendar (Thanks, Takahashi. Very helpful. -_-) which some have speculated to be July 26 in the Gregorian Calendar. Blood Type: "A". Age: "16". Height: "153cm"… and his profile isn't the only one out there. XD
Next time on For the Greater Good:
"You should be thankful that you're not a slave," one Kushite soldier sneered.
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Date Posted: July 18, 2015 (GMT + 8)