Hunter's latest mission had been an utter disaster.
He failed to capture any members of the infamous band of criminals. He only recovered a measly treasure artifact they had stolen, but it had been significantly damaged to the point of being useless.
And to top it off, he lost his staff.
He was dead beyond belief.
The only silver lining is that he hadn't sustained any critical injuries. Hell, he barely broke any of his bones. Nevertheless, he was highly aware that it would only help the interpretation that he hadn't tried hard enough. He couldn't even deny in his mind that it would be a correct assessment.
Fantastic; he had been in the Golden Guard for less than half a year and had already committed such a massive blunder. That was so great, so wonderful. Such a stunning display of competence and care.
Hunter wasn't looking forward to reporting the situation to the Emperor. He felt the urge to dawdle and put it off for the next ten years. But, undoubtedly, Belos had been informed of his arrival at the castle and was waiting for the report at the earliest feasible time. Delaying it would only worsen the already appalling circumstances of the predicament.
Still, his uniform was torn, frayed, and soiled with mud, dirt, and blood. He ought to present himself as if he hadn't been attacked by a vicious lawnmower. Furthermore, he was caked with grime and blood and stank like he had rolled himself on a mountain of trash. He would bring shame to the Emperor if his Golden Guard unnecessarily paraded himself like a vagrant.
He took a cold shower and changed into a clean uniform. After Hunter concluded the preparations, he walked towards the door, took a deep breath, turned the knob, hesitated briefly, and pushed it.
He stood up as tall and straight as he could. He held his eyes forward, kept his chin up, and preceded his tread towards the throne room. As much as he fancied taking the more extended route, he took the shortest one.
Every step he took made the sense of foreboding increase until it reached near-unbearable levels. He entertained outlandish fantasies of running away and hiding in the forest for the rest of his natural life. Or sneak to Belos's workshop, master decades' worth of engineering and thaumaturgy, obtain the esoteric materials that constitute it, and make himself one sparkling, brand-new staff.
Or, more simply, go back to his room and hide under his bed until the death of the universe.
The futility and flaws of those plans presented themselves not long after they popped into his head, much to his dismay. He needed to stop doing this every time he had to face the consequences of his actions. It was getting more embarrassing as he got older.
Sooner than he wanted, he found himself in front of the large entrance toward the throne room.
Two guards were stationed in front of it, protecting it.
They recognized him as soon as they set their eyes on him. It was impossible not to do it with his unmistakable and eye-catching golden and white uniform.
"The emperor is waiting for you." A scout stated promptly, while the other opened the door.
The Golden Guard nodded at them, walked until he was before the throne, and kneeled in front of Belos with practiced ease. He remained quiet and still, waiting for the Emperor to start speaking.
"Mask off," the Emperor demanded without any preamble.
Hunter noted the absence of guards or unrelated personnel in the chamber. This, combined with the first order, was seldom a good sign.
Hunter was reluctant to part with the safety of his mask but took it, raised his head, and looked at Belos immediately.
"I hear you were unsuccessful in arresting the intended targets." The Emperor remarked. His posture and voice were as serene and regal as expected, yet Hunter knew it was a facade.
"Yes, Emperor. I was." Hunter replied with a clear, even tone. Inwardly, his chest felt like it was being compressed by an oversized snake, and his stomach shook like a cocktail.
"Are you aware those bandits are not only thieves of important treasures, but also hardened criminals that are a danger to the inhabitants of the Boiling Isles?"
"Yes, Emperor. I am." Guilt pierced his heart, and his shoulder dropped. Then, a few seconds later, he fixed his stance in alarm.
"Pray to tell, why have you only made a paltry attempt to capture them?" The Emperor inquired, tilting his head.
"I did try m- "Hunter attempted to unjustifiably defend himself for some inane reason.
"Don't try to tell me you tried your hardest." The Emperor interrupted him and held his left hand up. Hunter shut his mouth immediately. "You didn't suffer any significant injuries and are still walking up. We know this isn't in any way your best attempt."
"My sincerest apologies, Emperor."
"Apologies don't make the situation any better." Belos pointed it out with a stern tone. "At least inform me if you managed to retrieve any artifacts."
"I did, indeed. But it was damaged beyond repair. Apologies, Emperor."
"Golden Guard." The Emperor's voice was ice-cold, and his eyes subtly shone brighter. "Do you have anything to add?"
Hunter wasn't walking on thin ice; he was in the pan. Any further remark wouldn't help the Emperor determine if he would turn the heat on—only how high it would be.
Hunter's mouth was dry as a desert, his stomach churned, and he was nauseous. He knew one of his episodes was right around the corner. However, it wasn't the right time to have one; it never was, but it was glaringly inappropriate in the middle of a report. He harshly chastised himself until the issue was ignorable.
He decided to tell Belos the most glaring way he failed, take the resulting penalty, and get over the whole ordeal. It wasn't like he had any better options.
"I- I lost my-" Hunter trailed off his sentence, and his throat tightened.
"What did you lose, Golden Guard?" The Emperor inquired, leaning forward and gazing at him with intensity.
Hunter squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath for a moment. Then, he confessed his transgression louder than he desired, "I lost my staff, Emperor."
Belos stayed silent for what seemed like an eon. The accelerated rhythm of the Titan's heart was the only sound that enveloped the whole chamber.
Hunter fought the urge to scream as loud as possible, pull his hair, or run a mile away from the throne room. He smothered the restless energy without mercy and stayed still as a statue on his spot.
"Are you aware your staff uses exceptional, highly priced, scarce materials in its construction?" The Emperor questioned him with faux calmness.
From an outsider's point of view, his visage could be misconstrued as composed and serene, but Hunter knew better. Belos was concealing wrath inside his body and would imminently erupt like a volcano under a glacier.
"I know, Emperor," Hunter responded tonelessly.
"It would take weeks to gather the required material, even with my vast resources and contacts. It would take me a considerable amount of time to assemble a new one, time I could spend performing essential tasks for the welfare of the isles' residents." Belos reprimanded him; vexation crawled along slowly yet steadily, but his voice's volume only increased slightly. Hunter's lower lip quivered, and he lowered his head further.
"Not only that, your productivity would drop to a significant extent in the intervening time."
He was neither helpless nor worthless without his staff. It was the first thought that emerged in his head about Belos' implications. He snuffed out his unwarranted indignation promptly.
"I know, but I swear I will tr-" Hunter tried to promise, lifting his head abruptly and leaning forward.
"Don't delude yourself. We are acutely aware you will not accomplish comparable results without your staff, Golden Guard."
His mind was unable to produce any coherent response. Unwanted tears crept into his eyes; he blinked them away swiftly.
"Since you were careless enough to lose your staff, I shouldn't replace it anyway. Trying to do your duties without it would teach you not to be so foolhardy, sooner or later."
"No, please!" Hunter exclaimed, hating the idea with all his heart. Then, he put his right hand over his mouth and looked at Belos with alarm. He hadn't a single idea why he thought it was acceptable to yell at Belos, and he hoped he wouldn't pay for this as well. "I apologize for my unjustifiable outburst. Your proposal would be an appropriate consequence, Emperor."
"I would be, indeed." Belos voiced it, sounding no more aggravated than earlier by the lapse of judgment. "Nevertheless, I weighed all sides of the situation, so I opted not to enact this particular correction."
His posture slumped, relief filled his body, and a small smile appeared slowly. Then, he remembered he was still in the middle of a report with his liege, so he fixed his posture.
"Don't waste it." The Emperor warned him.
"I won't. I promise, Emperor." Hunter gazed at Belos unwaveringly and nodded.
"You still must face up to the consequences of your actions." The Emperor reminded him. Hunter tensed like the string of a bow and waited attentively for his sentence. Belos stroked his chin, and his gaze dimmed. After what seemed like a lifetime, the Emperor commanded, "Stand up and undress."
He stood up with no reluctance. His fingers felt as stiff as when he had the misfortune to catch hypothermia, yet they bent better than expected. He took off all his garments methodically, one by one, folding them and placing them on the floor together.
The throne room was as cold as a chilly autumn night, despite the blazing torches that illuminated it. His hair rose up, his skin prickled, and he shivered. He wanted to put his clothes and armor back on; he felt so exposed and vulnerable without them, but he couldn't allow them to muffle the sting of chastisement.
The Emperor strode toward Hunter in a measured and unhurried way. When he stood in front of his subordinate, Hunter couldn't stop comparing himself to a bunny and the Emperor to a direwolf, despite the undesirable implications it brought out.
Without any preamble, the Emperor swung his staff and struck him firmly on the left side of his head. When it connected, it gave him a sudden explosion of pain and a starburst behind his eyelids.
Hunter let out a yelp, and a rivulet of blood leaked from his scalp.
He staggered, trying to regain his balance, when the Emperor hit him on the stomach just as hard. He fell down on the stony, cold floor. Hunter gasped, clenched his teeth, and squeezed his eyes, attempting to suppress the pain and nausea.
"Up," the Emperor instructed dispassionately.
As soon as Hunter got to his feet, he was struck again, this time on his upper arm. His bone cracked, but it didn't break. He tried to grab his limb by instinct, but he stopped halfway.
The Emperor brought his staff down against Hunter's back. Hunter stumbled forward, falling to his knees. He let out a pained wheeze and tried to catch his breath.
Belos struck him repeatedly. The blows sent waves of agony through him with every impact. His lungs burn, he gasps for breath at any feasible time, and his tears begin to well up.
"Up." the Emperor demanded, colder this time.
Hunter struggled to his feet. He was still out of breath; his back and lungs ached, and his legs wobbled like a newborn deer. Nevertheless, he obeyed the command without complaint, too afraid of the alternative.
He was rewarded by a blow to the knees. Hunter recoiled and groaned in pain. A wave of searing agony traveled through his legs. Hunter stumbled and nearly lost his balance.
Hunter raised his head and stared at the Emperor with wide, tear-stained eyes and trembling lips, which pleaded for mercy that wouldn't be granted.
The Emperor struck him over and over with his staff. He was methodically trashing him, hitting each part of his body as if cheeking down a list. He was allowing enough space between each blow for Hunter to feel the pain of the punishment, but not long enough to allow him to find any relief.
Pangs of hurt reverberated throughout his whole being. Each strike sent shooting pain upon their collision. He bit his lip and clenched his teeth to keep from crying out. The salty, metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. Hunter tried his hardest to take the beating with a modicum of dignity, but it became too excruciating for him to bear. His face contorted in pain, his tears streamed down his cheeks, and he uttered distressed wails and desperate pleas for mercy and absolution.
"Please! Stop! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I will do better! Much better! I'm sorry! I'll do anything! It hurts! Please, no more! I won't be lazy! I'll be better! I'm sorry!" Hunter implored frantically with all his heart. His pleas, unsurprisingly, fell on deaf ears. The Emperor wasn't a merciful man.
When Hunter fell to the ground, the Emperor forced him to stand up. His liege' tone was as cold as the Knee's highest peak and as terrified as a hurricane, so Hunter couldn't bring himself to disobey the grueling order. His knees felt weak and unsteady, and his legs trembled with fear and pain, yet he managed to get to his feet every time.
Until he collapsed to the floor, unable to stand or even remain on his knees anymore. Instinctively, he curled into a ball, trying to make himself a smaller target and protect his head and internal organs. His tears and pleas for forgiveness didn't sway the Emperor, who persisted unrelentingly.
The damage was extensive. His body was covered in welts, bruises, and cuts. Scarlet blood gushed through his wounds, becoming sticky as it dried. He lost a significant amount of it; it made his skin turn a faint yellowish hue and paler. Several of his bones were broken, leaving him in excruciating pain. He couldn't speak anymore, his voice was hoarse and cracked. Hunter was starting to wonder if the punishment would ever end.
His whole body felt impossibly heavy, as if it was made from the matter of a compressed star. His vision was becoming increasingly blurry and fading. A dull roar filled his ears. He became more and more tired as time passed. He tried to fight in vain against the familiar unconsciousness, but lost the battle after a few pitiful attempts.
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