Dark city

19. Balance

The top third floor of the dark blue is Su Helen's exclusive area, and idlers are not allowed to enter. If you want to enter, the magic golems that wander between the layers have the strength equivalent to that of a fifteenth-level warrior, and they will attack any intruder who is not recorded in the magic core. As long as you can defeat these puppets, challenge a dozen Magisters, and finally knock down Su Helen, you can ransack the legendary mage's lair at will. At least in theory.

The Legendary Mage is quite a person who likes a sense of space, so she occupies a huge space by herself. At this time, in a corner of the exclusive area, intermittent screams echoed. In the dark and long corridor, the screams echoed endlessly, making the unsuspecting creepy to the bones. The few who know about it have a different reaction entirely.

Minnie emerges from the end of the corridor and walks briskly. She was still a girl after all, and her hurried steps, pursed lips, slightly frowning brows, and slightly tense body seemed to be ready to dodge or something, and she seemed to dislike the dimness and gloom of the corridor. But this area is based on the theme of darkness, gloom, and dampness, and it is always the right decision of His Royal Highness Su Helen himself, so no one dares to raise objections. At this time, a faint scream sounded in the corridor again, and Minnie recognized the voice as belonging, and a sneer appeared on her lips, and she spat hard.

At the end of the dark area, there is a prison area covering an area of more than 1,000 square meters, with more than 10 large and small prison cells of different functions. In the center of a cell, Randolph was hanging on a torture rack with his limbs stretched out, his clothes stripped naked, and a ** upper body jailer was wielding a five-meter-long whip and whipping Randolph's body at once. The jailer was a black man, his knotted muscles were greased and reflected in the greasy light, and the corners of his leather shorts were frayed, and they were stained with large dark brown stains, the blood of some unknown person or creature.

If you can ignore the violence and gore in front of you, you will find that the jailer is extraordinarily skillful, the long whip shakes out a complex trajectory in the air, crackles, and then falls on Randolph's white and tender ass with a whistling and terrifying wind, leaving bright red bruises on both sides. The bruises are high and swollen, but they don't rupture, so they don't hurt too much, and they can add up to the pain exponentially. The jailer stood four meters away, wielding a five-meter-long whip, but the whip marks left by the whip on Randolph's white buttocks were evenly distributed, filling almost every open space that could be filled, with only occasional staggered marks, but no broken skin. From a distance, it looks like a Fauvist abstract painting, filled with countless messy blocks of color and lines, but it shows an indescribable beauty. This skill has been perfected. If this jailer is put outside, he can be regarded as a strong man.

Randolph's ass was already high and swollen, his face was intertwined with tears, snot and saliva, and his handsome face was distorted and messed. As an excellent son of an ancient aristocratic family, Randolph was by no means lacking in bravery and patience. However, many of the punishments in the shadowy regions are prepared for purgatory demons, abyssal demons, various dragonborn subspecies, and powerful races such as half-blood orcs and polar gray dwarves, and humans, especially mages who are not known for their physical strength, are simply a bowl of white water to these punishment masters, and they have no taste when drunk. For example, the jailer who whipped Randolph had already broken his will with the simplest whipping. Randolph's cell was large and contained a total of sixteen sets of torture instruments, nine of which the jailer could use.

The whipping was over, but Randolph's convulsions did not stop, and he could not even pass out unconscious. Intense pain came in waves, without peaks and valleys, without the slightest pause and pause, constantly hitting the dam edge of reason, as if the next moment it would be thrown into the abyss of despair.