Organ rental company in another world

"I...I said...stop it..."

The man's voice was as thin as a whisper, and his appearance terrified Darian, the seasoned leader of the Sword Saints.

Just now, Falley took out the Blood Crystal and summoned a cloud of black mist that entered the man's mouth and nose.

Immediately afterwards, the man's skin suddenly became translucent, and his internal organs were vaguely visible. The man's face also shrank at a visible speed, like a dried corpse that had been exposed to the sun in the desert for several years.

Darian realized that this was because the black mist had been eroding the muscle beneath the man's skin.

"Lady Louisa, please use a healing spell on him," Fala pleaded.

Louisa recovered from her shock, her hands glowing brightly green as she began to treat the man.

The muscles under the skin grew rapidly, and the man inflated back up like an inflated sac, only to shrink back down again in the next second.

After the man's erection and subsequent contraction went back and forth several times, he finally couldn't hold back any longer.

Because his throat was being gnawed away, he didn't scream, but Darian could tell from his violently trembling pupils that it hurt far more than prying open a hundred fingers.

"Lady Louisa, please increase the intensity, I'm about to start eating this guy's heart."

Louisa remained silent, simply closing her eyes tightly to avoid seeing the man's miserable state, while the green light in her hand became even more dazzling.

"Hmph... Ugh..."

A few broken syllables were squeezed out of the man's mouth, his whole body convulsing uncontrollably from the pain.

Within minutes, the man couldn't take it anymore and gave in.

The red light on Falley's hand dissipated, and wisps of black smoke emerged from the man's mouth and nose, drifting into the air and dissipating.

Darian covered his face and fanned away the black smoke in front of him with his hand.

He glanced at Falai, whose pale, bloodless face now flushed with a sickly redness for the first time, accompanied by excited panting.

Dark magicians, they're fucking perverts.

Darian thought to himself.

The man was drenched in sweat, but his complexion gradually returned to normal.

"The church, in the church in the center of town, all the people who were arrested are being held there, and that woman was taken out from there too."

"That's all? Do you know anything else?" Darian asked.

The man shook his head blankly. "That's all."

A flash of cold light, and most of the man's neck was severed.

"Lord Darian, how merciful," Falai said softly.

Darian wiped the sword on the man's body. "What do you mean? I just can't stand this scumbag."

"Just now, all of this man's organs were devoured. This kind of pain is unforgettable and will last a lifetime. Even though his body has been healed by Lady Louisa, he will suffer this pain again in his dreams every night from now on."

At this point, Fala's eyes darted around, as if he were imagining that scene.

Darian looked disgusted and repeated, "Dark magicians are disgusting."

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

The three headed toward the church in the center, passing through several streets along the way.

Without exception, they were all left in ruins.

The smell of blood was everywhere, and human limbs were scattered all over the place. Two or three rebels would gather together and sneak into houses to plunder money, food and drinks.

You can even see some people with their lower bodies naked, carefully examining the fallen female corpses on the street, and dragging the intact ones into their houses.

In such a place, the sweet-looking Louisa was like a lamb in a wolf's den, attracting the attention of the rebels along the way.

If it weren't for the menacing Darian standing beside them, they might have actually made a move.

Occasionally, a few drunk and bolder rebels would stand by the roadside, pull down their pants, and sway their hips while spewing all sorts of vulgarities at Louisa. Without exception, all of these people were beheaded by Darian.

"Lady Louisa, please close your eyes. I'll support you," Falley suggested after thinking for a long time.

"No need. I've always had a very comfortable life. This kind of scene is a kind of training for me."

More than ten minutes later, they arrived at the church.

Several rebels were running out excitedly, one of them carrying a disheveled woman on his shoulder.

Louisa drew her simple staff, and several pebbles on the ground floated in the air. The next second, they shot out at high speed, accurately hitting the temples of each rebel.

The woman fell to the ground, looking around at the several corpses, at a loss.

"Don't be afraid, we are reinforcements sent by the capital, you are saved," Darian said as he approached the woman.

Upon hearing this, the woman covered her mouth and burst into tears in disbelief: "Thank you, Holy Emperor, you really came..."

"Quick! You must go in and save my husband! He's being tortured to death by those lunatics!"

Inside the church, beneath the statue of Pymisa, several rebels each grabbed a man's hand and foot, pulling his legs apart and repeatedly slamming his groin against the statue's calves.

The man had just witnessed his wife being defiled by this group of beasts in full view of everyone. After being repeatedly struck in the groin, he foamed at the mouth and was almost unconscious.

The rebels beside him drank and laughed, enjoying the sight of this once noble young man in his current state of disgrace.

On the other side, an elderly man with a full head of silver hair was hanging in the air, his body completely stripped naked, his loose skin covered with bloodstains of all sizes.

He was the bishop of this church, and had previously lent money at exorbitant interest rates, causing many families to go bankrupt. After Melisandre's castle was breached, he hid in a cellar until yesterday when he was discovered by the rebels.

A rebel threw a bucket of cold water at him, the icy shock jolting him awake.

"Please, please stop whipping me..." the old man pleaded, his voice trembling.

"Beg me? Why didn't you spare my brother when he begged you for two more days!" The rebel roared and lashed his wound with his whip again.

The old man didn't even have the strength to shout; he could only let out a muffled thud.

"Hey, I have a fun idea. Let's each take a knife and peel off his skin, and see who can peel off the longest and biggest piece of skin."

"Hehe, this is fun!" the two rebels said as they started the game.

On the other side of the church, the rebels had enclosed a space using church pews, where they were holding the hostages.

They were guarded by a large man, not out of concern for the hostages escaping, but to prevent rebels from taking the hostages away for revenge or to have their way with women.

These people were used as a means to threaten the capital, and Dono had ordered that none of them be killed.

But unable to resist the rebels' persistent pleading, the man would occasionally break the rules and give a few hostages to the rebels for their amusement and revenge.

The man lay on the bench, listening to the sounds of impact coming from Aruba and the screams of the old man being skinned alive. His mind was foggy, and he even felt sleepy.

Suddenly, he realized that all the sounds had disappeared.