Before The Cataclysm

A resounding thud echoed through the hall as the Palace doors slammed shut behind the guard. Around him, over a hundred prisoners began to plea, their eyes filled with fear and desperation.

"Please, free us!"

"We have families! We beg you!"

"At least tell us what we did wrong!"

All of them were guilty of the same thing—to think something as harmless as studying the orbits of the moons of Arai could end up with one getting executed.

The guard walked on, ignoring the pleas and the cries of the people. He opened another door and walked down the hall. At the end of the corridor, he came to a halt as his eyes met the icy stare of his commander, Myles Rex, the King of Arai.

"Did you deliver the package?" The Rex asked, his voice as cold and emotionless as his gaze.

"Y-yes, Your Majesty. Solaris and Celestia's bodies have been returned to their address… But Your Majesty, may I ask why we return the bodies?"

The Rex narrowed his eyes. "I don't have the time to bury disobedient vermin," his tone laced with disdain. "Let their families pay their last respect," he walked away, flicking his cape behind him.

As he arrived at the prison cells, the cacophony of pleas resumed. 

"Your Majesty, please! Have mercy on your servants!"

"We're innocent!"

The Rex's lips curled in disgust as his gaze fell on the man who dared to declare himself innocent. Without a word, he grabbed the man's head and slammed it into the electrified bars. The sharp sizzle of burning skin filled the air, followed by a strangled cry of pain

"Innocent?" The Rex sneered. "Hah. Don't give me that bullshit. None of you are innocent. You goddess damned scientists. Do you think the goddess would be happy with you people? Questioning her work and studying the orbits. What do you think you people are?" He slammed the man's head into the bars again and again, savouring his cries of agony.

"Shh," the Rex teased, putting his finger up to his lips. "You've been in here for so long without food. I don't think it'd be wise to use the little stamina you have to scream. After all…" the Rex's lips curled up into a malicious smirk. "It's not like anyone will hear you."

He released the man, who crumpled to the ground, trembling. "Guards," the Rex ordered, his voice cutting through the air. "Take him to the Executioner's Yard. He's been here too long."

The man's pleas soon grew to wails as he begged for his life, the guards dragging him in out of his cage like an animal. His cries echoed through the hall, a chilling dirge for the others.

In the Executioner's Yard, the man was given to Xavell, the head executioner. He handed the prisoner a quill and paper.

"If there's anything to write to your family," Xavell said coldly. "Write it now. But note, if you write anything exposing the Rex, your family will share your fate. So write wisely."

With trembling hands, the man scribbled his last words to his child. He folded the tear-drenched note and handed it over. 

"I'm done," he whispered, his voice trembling.

Xavell gave the order and the man was tied to a table by the executioners. 

"Do us a favour," Xavell said as he picked up his signature weapon, a sickle. "The Queen is unwell. You wouldn't want her to intervene so try and endure this as quietly as possible."

The man's screams began as his legs were shattered, bit by bit, with brute force. Xavell, completely unfazed by the screams, peeled the skin from his leg with great precision. The man tried to wriggle his leg free, only causing the sickle to go deeper.

"Dumbass," he sighed heavily, pulling the sickle out and continuing with his task. "You're only making this even more painful."

Even slower than before, Xavell made the pain even worse—the sickle carefully peeling the skin of the man's leg. After having almost all the skin come off, Xavell quickly amputated the leg. The man screamed in pain, watching his blood gush out of the joint. 

The torture continued—Xavell proceeded to skin his other leg and they broke his arms, cutting them off at the elbows. He screamed as the pain continued, tears streaming down his face.

"Shut him up!" A shrill voice called from the Palace. It was Rex Xeva, the queen, her head sticking out of her bedroom window.

"Our apologies, Your Highness," Xavell apologised, bowing. He turned to his victim with a frown and hissed, "You heard the Queen: shut up."

"You expect me to be quiet in such agonising pain?" The man sobbed, his voice hoarse. "I'm not a monster like you people! Even animals cry in pain!"

In anger, Xavell pierced the blade of the sickle into the man's body. Before he could utter another threat, the yard's gates flung open. Xeva stormed in, snatching a sword from an executioner.

In a single, ever precise slash, she slit his throat. Blood sprayed across her face and gown, but her expression remained as cold as her husband's.

"Listen," she declared, her voice as sharp as the blade she was holding. "Your cries aren't going to save you. So spare us the noise—and die quietly!"

The man's cries were reduced to nothingness, swallowed by oppressive air. Pleased, Xavell proceeded to peel the skin on his chest, the sickle gleaming. The man writhed in agony, the blood from his throat still gushing out. 

After several agonising minutes, Xavell handed the bloodstained sickle to one of his subordinates.

"Congratulations," he murmured, his expression as cold and detached as ever. The man's face, stained with blood and tears, was a testament of his suffering. "Somehow, you survived the skinning. Do you have any last words?"

An executioner stepped forward to hand Xavell his sword. He unsheathed it with a measured precision, his eyes tracing the blade's edge. "Is the box ready?"

"Yes, Sir," a subordinate replied, saluting. "It's lined and ready."

Xavell nodded. "Put in position."

The box, already lined with the man's severed limbs and flayed skin, was placed beneath the man's head. 

"Alright," Xavell said, raising his sword and placing it right above the man's neck.

"W-wait," the man stammered, his voice trembling. "What are you doing?"

"I'll make it quick," he replied, his cold gaze meeting the man's tear-filled eyes. In a single swift moment, the blade came down, cleanly severing the head.

"It's done," Xavell muttered, wiping the blade on a cloth before sheathing it. "Package it and take it to his residence."

By evening, Xavell stood before Myles Rex and Rex Xeva in the grand throne room. He bowed before presenting the day's report.

"Your Majesties," he began, his voice steady and formal.

"Ah, Xavell, it's about time," Rex Myles said sitting up in his ornate chair. "It's about time. Proceed with the report"

"A total of seven executions were carried out today," he stated. "Additionally, fourteen individuals were arrested for researching the moons."

Xeva let out a dramatic sigh, her voice laced with mockery as she addressed Xavell. "The numbers are quite disappointing compared to other days. Are you certain you're working as diligently as you claim, Xavell?"

Xavell's gaze darkened, his jaw tightening as he responded with a measured calm. "Yes, your highness. I assure you that my men and I work tirelessly to make sure that our goddess' work remains unquestioned."

Myles Rex leaned forward, his expression one of quiet approval. "Good," he said smoothly. "Lest anyone find out about the catalysts… our plan would be ruined."