After countless years of enduring, Sir John, his wife, sons, daughters, and workers were on the brink of total collapse, their spirits worn to threads. Yet the young duke, now a Duke in his own right, had only perfected his dark arts, his presence growing more like a god of cruelty than a mere mortal. His first act was to bind their minds with a fortification spell, ensuring no one could find solace in insanity, forcing them to remain lucid through every horror. Next, he upgraded the healing device, making it impossibly potent, with a ten-thousand percent regeneration rate, guaranteeing their bodies would never truly break, no matter how much was inflicted upon them. His human playthings no longer held his interest. The Duke decided to expand his cruel "fair" by capturing monsters.
The first to join were goblins. Driven by primal lust and a chilling delight in pain, they violated and feasted upon men and women alike, adding a new, frenzied layer to the torment. Then came the ogres, hulking brutes whose immense strength brought new forms of crushing agony. Following them, the Orcs arrived, their brutish savagery introducing even more chaotic violence. Next, the trolls, with their regenerating forms, ensured that dismemberment became an art. Then the dire wolves, their ravenous hunger turning every bite into a prolonged terror. And finally, the werebears, their monstrous transformations adding an unpredictable, bestial horror to the unending nightmare.
But this was only the beginning of their eternal damnation.
The tears on Luke's face were the last remnants of who he used to be.
With a sharp breath, he dispelled the illusion. The infant—now suspended in mid-air—twisted in silent terror, its tiny face contorted in a scream it couldn't voice.
"This," Luke began, his voice a rasp born of six lifetimes of pain, "was my first life. And that..."—he pointed at the infant—"is you. Your Great Duke. The Grand Magus of Magic."
He stepped closer, eyes burning with cold resolve. "Don't bother acting surprised, Your Greatness. I've lived long enough to recognize your soul." He paused. "An eye for an eye. That was the lesson this life taught me. So now, allow me to repay the blessings you've so graciously given me... starting with this one. Your Greatness."
A dark smile crept across his lips.
"Unfortunately, we have only Mrs. Mariannette left... and no humans or monsters for display."
His gaze swept over the limp, defeated forms of the Beast Kings and Emperors.
"Then again," he said, voice like velvet over steel, "these will serve just fine."
He turned back to the infant, voice dropping to a whisper.
"Enjoy the show, Your Grace."