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Yingxing had been captured on the Luofu.
He no longer remembered how many days ago.
In fact, he wasn't sure whether only a few days had passed, or weeks or months. In the darkness, time lost all meaning. There were no windows here to watch the shifting light, nor a clock with hands to mark the passing hours.
The only testament to the passage of time here was his blood. Long since dried on the stone floor, it had turned black and cracked. The spilled pool had long ago lost its original shape, and all that remained were dark, uneven traces in the crevices between the stones. Yingxing remembered that it had once been red, now looked more like a shadow, so at least a dozen or so days must have passed since the last visit.
He chuckled under his breath: if the attempts at execution could even be called visits.
He stood with his back against the cold wall, his arms were spread wide, and heavy shackles held his wrists. The chains, anchored in the stone, didn’t even allow him enough freedom to find a more comfortable position.
Not that it mattered much. After a while, the body ceased to remember what comfort was.
Yingxing raised his head as footsteps echoed in the corridor. He slowly straightened up, and his chains clanked softly in the darkness. He fixed his gaze on the steel door. A moment later, he heard the clatter of a key sliding into the lock.
The door opened, and three men stepped inside.
Two of them wore standard prison guard armor. He paid them little heed, he had seen dozens like them before. Each of them looked the same, and spoke the same bulthit.
Yingxing’s attention was drawn far more strongly to the man standing at the front. He held a long staff and wore a white coat. Yingxing raised an eyebrow. White. A rather peculiar choice for someone who had evidently come here with the intent to kill. Then again, perhaps that was precisely the point. Perhaps he enjoyed watching his victims' blood slowly ruin the pristine fabric.
The stranger took off his coat and draped it over his cane, which he then set against the wall.
“Leave us alone.” His voice was calm. “And make sure no one comes near. No witnesses.”
The guards saluted, and the door closed behind them with a heavy, metallic clang. For a moment, silence filled the cell.
“A mysterious type,” Yingxing muttered under his breath, the corner of his mouth twitching into a mocking smile. “I’m starting to get scared.”
He sighed when he received no answer and rested his head against the wall. He had actually expected something like this. It wasn't the first time someone had entered his cell with orders to murder him. It was just another man told that, this time, things would be different.
They all began with the same confidence, only to discover that some things cannot be killed by brute force alone. It mattered not how long they slashed, stabbed, or tore at his body, nor piercing organs, breaking bones, draining his blood, the result was always the same: Yingxing’s body regenerated. Within minutes, tissues knitted back together, bones snapped into place, and wounds sealed shut as if they had never existed.
However, aside from his cane and white coat, the newcomer carried no weapon. Surely he didn't intend to strangle him with his bare hands, right? Yingxing shifted his gaze to the man's hands, focusing a bit more closely on his right arm. At first, Yingxing thought the man was wearing a black sleeve. Only after a moment did he notice that the garment had a short sleeve, and the black surface began only above the elbow.
He wore white gloves, but it wasn't them that caught Yingxing’s attention. A thick nail was embedded in the man’s right wrist. For a moment, he even thought he was looking at some bizarre watch, before realizing the nail had pierced right through the bone. The longer he studied the stranger, the more convinced he became that something was amiss. He caught himself staring at him. And capturing Yingxing’s attention was no easy feat.
“Is your name Yingxing?” he asked, though he didn’t need to seek confirmation in his words. It was merely a formality.
It took a moment for him to answer, no one had spoken his name in a long time.
“That’s right.” His voice sounded alien to his own ears. “If you’ve come to kill me, you don’t need to make a ceremony out of it.”
“I won’t take up much of your time,” he said, extending his right hand. He straightened his fingers and pointed his palm directly at the other man’s chest. “Any last words?”
If he had to speak his last words every time someone asked for them, he could probably write a pretty long novel out of them by now.
“Good luck.”
A hint of a smile appeared on Yingxing’s face, though he himself didn’t know what it signified. Perhaps it was the mockery with which he liked to season his words, maybe admiration for the audacity of the man standing before him, or perhaps a glimmer of hope that this particular person might succeed in finishing what had begun so many years ago.
He tilted his head back, and the back of his head struck the stone. It was neither the first nor the last time, when the pain rippled through his skull like a dull echo. The pain itself would likely soon give way to something far worse, though all that remained for Yingxing now was to wait.
However, nothing happened.
Yingxing slowly opened his eyes. The man before him was trembling and wouldn't even look at him. His gaze was fixed on his right wrist. He was gripping his forearm with his left hand so tightly that the fabric began to bunch up beneath his fingers. His breathing grew ragged.
“S-Shuhu…” The word escaped his lips like a stifled whisper. “Impossible.”
Yingxing instantly flinched, his eyes locking onto the man.
“What did you say?” He lunged forward, but the chains snapped taut, halting his movement. The shackles dug into his wrists, slicing the skin. He gave the man little time to answer as his voice rose. “What did you say?!”
The man wasn't listening to him. His entire attention was consumed by his right hand. The nail began to glow, at first with a barely perceptible red, then with an increasingly intense hue. The red light pulsed in time with his heart, which was racing with every beat, nearly severing his connection to full consciousness. Or perhaps the pulse wasn't his own, for a moment La Mancha thought he heard a second heartbeat.
He gritted his teeth as something stirred inside, pressing ever harder against muscle and skin, as if trying to break free.
“Who are you?!”
La Mancha felt as though he were beginning to hear voices. Quiet whispers were everywhere, impossible to distinguish into individual words. They grew closer and more insistent. And with them, La Mancha felt a sudden, unimaginable craving, one he had never experienced before.
It was as if he had spent years in a desert, his throat parched to ash. As if his entire body and soul had been created solely to hunger for something. He gasped sharply when he saw a man chained to the wall before him. Yet, to his horror, he no longer saw a criminal, only a source of water and sustenance.
He smelled the scent of Shuhu wafting with every breath Yingxing took. Fragments of Abundance, infinite life locked within a human body.
The seal on his wrist responded. Ouroboros wanted the same thing. A boundless craving demanded to sink its fangs into the muscles and blood.
A tightness gripped his chest as he realized that it wasn't just Voracity hungering for the Abundance sealed within their bodies. He himself desired Yingxing. La Mancha had no wish or intention to feed the monster dwelling inside him. And that made all the difference, for he wanted, he craved, that life to belong to him.
La Mancha staggered as his knees buckled and his vision blurred. He blinked rapidly, feeling his control slipping away, not just over the fragment of Ouroboros, but over his own body as well.
For a moment, he saw nothing. When his senses returned and the colors came back, he was already standing before Yingxing, who was gazing at him with wide eyes. He slowly raised his hand, as if he didn't understand why he was doing it himself. Pale fingers traced a path along Yingxing’s side, moving upward to his chest, where they grazed one of his nipples.
La Mancha shuddered. The touch alone sparked a wave of pleasure so intense that, for a moment, it took his breath away. He couldn't think of anything but wanting to claim him. He — La Mancha himself. Not Oroboros, certainly not him. He had no intention of tossing Yingxing into that empty belly and handing him over as if nothing had happened.
“What are you doing?!”
Yingxing jerked, and La Mancha immediately pinned him against the wall, squeezing the last remnants of breath from his lungs. His hand clamped over Yingxing’s face, muffling his mouth, before he brutally forced his head to the side. The skin on the neck was so thin that he could see the veins pulsing beneath it and the muscles tensing as Yingxing tried to fight back.
La Mancha leaned in and, without a moment of hesitation, sank his teeth into the man's neck. The scream that tore from the man’s throat was music to his ears. Hot blood instantly welled up against his lips, he could taste it, and at the same time, he felt Oroboros respond to the sensation.
Yingxing thrashed violently against his restraints. He tried to kick out, but La Mancha caught him by the ankle. The second kick was stronger. Yingxing pushed off the wall with his back and slammed his foot into La Mancha’s chest with his full body weight. La Mancha staggered backward, only the hand still clamped tight around the other man's leg kept him from falling.
“Fuck off!”
La Mancha furrowed his brow. It was that curse that had truly thrown him off balance. Then the nail flared again, and pain shot through his entire body. A red glow began to spread across the floor, swallowing their shadows.
Yingxing looked down.
“What the fuck is that?”
The answer came on its own, though it was incomplete.
Two shapes emerged from behind La Mancha. Long, unnaturally slender, and almost devoid of distinct outlines. Their bodies looked more like living shadows than actual creatures.
The next moment, they lunged forward. Fangs sank into Yingxing’s calves, and his own blood splattered onto the floor. He screamed and thrashed his legs, trying to break free. The jaws clamped down only tighter. The more he struggled, the deeper the teeth tore into his muscles, spraying his blood all around.
La Mancha slid his hands behind Yingxing’s back and pulled him close, arching his spine. The embrace was almost brutally tight, and La Mancha’s body burned. Waves of heat radiated from him, as if a fever were consuming him from within, fueled by something far older than a mere illness.
Yingxing could feel that searing heat through his clothes. For a brief moment, La Mancha’s breath grazed his cheek as he turned his head. He had no time to do anything else before La Mancha gripped his chin, forcing him to meet his gaze. A heartbeat later, their lips met in a deep kiss.
For a very short moment, it actually sated his hunger. He pressed his tongue inside, exploring the interior and testing how deep he could push. It tasted of sweetness, a flavor entirely out of place in their surroundings.
He frowned. Perhaps his own senses were playing tricks on him, or perhaps Oroboros was tasting through him.
Yingxing jerked again, only to be pinned against the wall by the full weight of the other’s body. He gritted his teeth, knowing that screaming would change nothing. The entire prison was designed to prevent sound from escaping to the surface: thick walls, enclosed corridors, and echo-absorbing stone. And even if someone did hear him? At most, they would assume another execution was underway. Yingxing was a prisoner, after all. No one came to rescue the likes of him.
That left him with only two options: fight or wait it out. The latter was always the easier choice. Not that the man standing before him could truly inflict lasting harm. Pain coursed through his body, and bizarre creatures sank their teeth into his legs. Yet it couldn't last forever, and his wounds were already beginning to close. Yingxing could feel his cells rebuilding damaged tissue, his body attempting to repair the injuries. But the beasts wouldn't allow it so easily, as their teeth remained embedded deep, deliberately keeping the wounds open.
The man in front of him tore through the fabric of his trousers with one hand and stripped them off, leaving behind only a single pant leg that slid down to his foot. He felt the man’s gaze upon him, a look that seemed to devour him whole. Chains rattled as he instinctively tried to shield his private parts.
"Delicious," La Mancha muttered.
His hand closed around his soft cock. He squeezed harder, delivering a few quick strokes and bending it at an unnatural angle. He let out a small hum as his fingers curled around his hot length, admiring the shape and size of Yingxing’s dick. He shuddered, as if he had just tasted it with every inch of his body. What a strange yet overwhelming sensation.
“Have you completely lost your mind?” Yingxing hissed, fighting the pain spreading through his entire body.
“You have no idea how much I want you to drop to your knees in front of me right now.”
“Never.”
La Mancha pressed his hand against his mouth, silencing another groan. His gaze remained fixed on Yingxing’s lower body. Yingxing noticed this immediately and intended to exploit the lapse in attention. He tilted his head back, creating a bit of space, before he struck. His teeth grazed La Mancha’s fingers. He reacted just in time, jerking away before the jaws could snap shut and bite them off.
“You…!”
The movement was instantaneous. A hand cut through the air and struck Yingxing across the face. A sharp crack echoed off the stone walls. Redness instantly bloomed on his pale skin. A gash on his cheek split open from the impact, and a thin trickle of blood began to run down.
Yingxing remained silent for a moment, dazed by the force of the blow. Then, he grinned broadly a triumphant smile.
“You can try to force me to my knees,” he said, “but next time, I certainly won’t miss.”
La Mancha glanced at his hand, where a torn glove dangled from his fingers. He took the middle finger between his teeth and bit down on the fabric, pulling the glove off his hand. His gaze returned to the prisoner, who spat on the ground to rid his mouth of the metallic taste of blood.
His audacity drove him mad, yet he couldn't resist him. He craved more, more than ever before. The taste lingered on his taste buds, and the echoes of his moans reverberated in his mind. More. All he could think about was how to get more.
His gaze dropped lower, and something stirred within him. He knelt right in front of him, bringing his face level with his hips. Yingxing jerked, trying to break free, another futile attempt. His soft cock swayed before his eyes. He slowly licked his lips before opening his mouth wide and taking the length of it inside. He pressed it against the roof of his mouth with his tongue, only to release it a moment later with a loud sigh.
"Don't touch me," Yingxing gasped, his voice laced with disgust, turning his head away to avoid looking at him.
La Mancha leaned lower. His tongue teased his balls from below before latching on to suck one of them into his mouth, followed a moment later by the other. His tongue continued to explore the skin outside his mouth, now pressing into the space between his balls and ass.
Yingxing groaned involuntarily as a pleasant shiver ran through his body. He glanced down for just a moment before his face flushed crimson. La Mancha was kneeling before him, taking his balls deep into his mouth, while his soft cock rested against the man's cheek. A moment later, it twitched as blood slowly began to flow into it.
“Stop it…”
La Mancha pulled back for a moment, only to take a closer look at his cock. A moment later, he licked up its length until his mouth closed around the head. He sucked, rolling his tongue around the tip and savoring every drop of precum he could access.
Yingxing bit his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood as he suppressed another moan. His dick twitched inside La Mancha’s mouth, both of them could feel it growing harder within that wet heat. La Mancha took the whole length, reveling in the moment as he began to run out of air while the cock stretched the walls of his throat.
He held on for a moment before he ran out of breath. He pulled back, feeling the cock slide against the back of his throat, he accidentally grazed it with his teeth, and Yingxing groaned loudly. La Mancha gagged as he involuntarily forced his head down. It was a delightful kind of pain, and he began bobbing his head fervently from tip to base. He fought through every gag and every pang of pain as he struggled to drive the man over the edge.
And he didn't have to try very hard. Yingxing’s whole body tensed, and a moment later, a viscous fluid shot straight into his throat. He held on for as long as he possibly could, drinking every last drop. When he pulled away, Yingxing’s cock struck him in the belly.
Only then did he realize just how aroused he was. It had grown so tight in his trousers that it actually hurt. He was breathing heavily, his heart pounding in his chest, and his blood was surging.
Yingxing’s gaze followed La Mancha’s hands as he undid his trousers and slid the fabric down to his thighs, freeing his hard cock. Yingxing could see every vein pulsing against the man's hand.
“Don’t worry,” he cooed, seeing the confusion on Yingxing’s face immediately be replaced with one of panic. “Just relax and enjoy it.”
He lifted one of Yingxing’s legs and rested it at hip height. One of the beasts growled instantly as the meat was torn from its jaws. Its body tensed, but a moment later, instinct overcame anger. The beast shifted closer and clamped its teeth onto Yingxing’s calf again, purring with satisfaction as fresh blood streamed straight down its throat.
La Mancha now had a perfect view of his ass. With his free hand, he lifted Yingxing’s balls, revealing a tight hole surrounded by slightly darker skin. Yingxing looked good like this, naked and trembling, battling his own desires, legs spread to take him. He spat into his hand, his saliva still thick with Yingxing’s semen. He gave himself a few quick strokes, hissing with pleasure at the sensation. Leaning forward, he positioned the head of his cock right against the slit, using his thumb to guide it into place.
“W-wait!”
“No.”
Yingxing groaned. Panic, something he had learned to suppress over the years, suddenly flooded his entire body. He lurched forward, but the chains pulled taut with a metallic snap, refusing to give way, just like the two beasts holding his legs.
“Did you think I was going to blow you and then let you go?” La Mancha laughed. “I want you all.”
“Go to hell,” Yingxing hissed through his clenched teeth. The last thing he wanted to do was beg this man for mercy.
“I brought hell with me.” Then he slammed his cock in one go inside Yingxing’s hole, forcing his way deep, until his pelves touched his thighs. The strangled shriek that followed was like music to his ears. “Relax. You'll heal, yes?”
“Fuck off.”
Yingxing felt good around him, his warm walls were squeezing him, struggling to take all of La Mancha's cock. He thrusted mercilessly, letting the sound of his muffled moans fill the air, chasing after for his pleasure and fulfillment and desire to pump Yingxing full of cum and make him his.
“You're so fucking tight, slut. You're going to break me in half. I told you to relax.” His open hand slapped Yingxing in the face again, leaving a new mark that quickly turned red. “Look at you, taking my cock so well.”
Yingxing gasped for air, drool dripping down the side of his mouth. His hands were clenched into fists, his fingernails digging into his skin. He could feel the force of the man’s pistoning slowly bruising his body. His penis slapped rhythmically against his belly as the last of the semen leaked onto his lower abdomen.
Yet, that was nothing compared to the tearing pain inside his body. He felt that hard cock tearing his tissues apart over and over again. He didn't know if they could even regenerate fast enough. He felt every subsequent thrust driving deeper, threatening to reach his internal organs, crushing them, pressing relentlessly against his prostate.
Yingxing moaned and cursed, his stomach tightening at the mounting pleasure, a sensation he could neither suppress nor bring himself to accept. He tried to find something to hold onto, anything at all, feeling that if he didn’t anchor himself, he would slip away into the sheer satisfaction of the brutal, bruising pounding he was receiving and never surface again.
He felt his insides being rearranged with every plunge. His stomach ached dully, distending and contracting in time with La Mancha’s thrusts. He tensed his back muscles, trying to pull himself up on chains and rising onto the toes of one foot, in a desperate attempt to push back, however slightly, against that cock.
La Mancha instantly slid his hand under the other thigh and heaved upward, wrenching the leg free from the grip of the jaws. Ignoring another cry of pain, he wrapped the leg around his own waist, gaining much better access than before.
By this point, Yingxing had lost all footing on the ground. He was practically suspended in mid-air, held up only by the shackles that were digging deeper into his wrists, while his shoulders ached like hell. He could feel the heat radiating from where their bodies touched, yet La Mancha, too focused on the movement of his hips, didn't notice Yingxing nearly slipping from his grasp. Yingxing clamped his legs around La Mancha’s waist, momentarily locking him in a tight hold and halting his movement.
Their eyes met briefly, but neither spoke. Yingxing loosened his legs, allowing La Mancha to pull his hips back. When only the very tip remained inside, Yingxing squeezed his legs shut again, turning the next thrust into a combined effort of their strength. Both men groaned as the length slid along his prostate, reaching the deepest parts of his body. Somehow, La Mancha began to plunge even deeper and harder into him.
"Good." La Mancha let him set the rhythm.
One of the beasts, which until then had been lurking behind him, suddenly lunged forward. Yingxing didn't even notice it, his head tilted back and eyes squeezed shut. Its snout grazed the length of Yingxing’s cock, wrapping around it. Its maw opened wide, teeth flashing in the pale light before plunging down to swallow his cock whole. Its jaws clamped shut right at the base, a rough tongue coiled around the shaft, and saliva spilled over, trickling down onto his balls.
Yingxing gasped sharply, watching as his cock vanished into the depths of the beast’s maw. It felt as though thousands of tiny needles were piercing his muscles simultaneously, then drawing out something far deeper than blood. Sweat ran down his temples, tears welled in his eyes and rolled helplessly down his cheeks.
The lines between pain and pleasure blurred completely, making him sob as he hovered right on the edge between just enough and too much.
And then, La Mancha reacted. His hand shot forward, fingers clamping around the beast’s throat with such force that the creature let out a strangled hiss. Its jaws loosened as its throat was crushed.
“He’s mine.” There was nothing human left in his voice.
The beast hissed as he tore its head away from Yingxing’s cock, then slammed it against the ground.
Yingxing stared at the motionless beast, struggling to catch his breath. Then he looked at his soft cock. It was coated only in saliva, yet he could still feel the phantom sensation of teeth and immense pressure. The horrific feeling of tiny needles sinking ever deeper made him shudder.
Every wound he had ever sustained had long since healed, but something about the way the beast had bitten him made Yingxing for the first time in ages wonder if his body was truly capable of healing everything.
A moment later, La Mancha pulled back and slammed his hips forward, driving every last thought from Yingxing’s mind. His eyes rolled back and his spine arched into a perfect bow as his mind clouded over. His body spasmed violently as he came all over his own stomach. His toes curled as La Mancha kept thrusting, refusing to stop even after the orgasm had passed.
With a loud growl, La Mancha reached his limit, climaxing as violently as he had been moving. Yingxing tightened his legs, holding him inside, muscles contracted rhythmically, milking him.
As soon as La Mancha pulled out, Yingxing’s body went completely slack, feeling boneless and utterly melted. A sense of emptiness nagged at the back of his scrambled mind, already missing that fullness inside him, as his ass gaped and his insides clenched around nothing, while the semen oozed out and dripped down his thighs and abdomen.
As the heat began to fade from his skin, the pain became more acute. White spots still danced before his eyes, even when he squeezed his lids shut. This time, he had truly thought La Mancha would kill him. Something deep down told him the man was capable of it.
Yingxing waited for death, almost to the point of laughter. After so many years of being ready for it, his body was now reacting with tremors. Aeons, that was how it should be. Exactly right. He should be terrified.
Yet, nothing happened. A few seconds passed, during which his body regained its strength, his wounds sealed shut, and his blood began to circulate properly through his veins once more.
“What have I done…” La Mancha’s voice was strained, as if the mere act of breathing cost him every ounce of his energy.
Yingxing opened his eyes again to see La Mancha’s legs buckling beneath him as he sank to his knees. He stared at his own hands, now stained with Yingxing’s blood, as if they didn't belong to him. The bite wound on his finger had already dried. Between his fingers, he could see his cock, still semi-erect, lying exposed against his trousers, which remained pushed down to mid-thigh.
La Mancha was breathing heavily. The terror in his eyes was something Yingxing hadn't expected. But the guilt surprised him even more. He recognized that look, he had seen it once in his own reflection.
“I-I’m sorry.” His voice trembled, he sounded nothing like the man he had been just a minute ago. Rather as someone who had just woken from a nightmare, unable to comprehend why he was holding a knife. “I didn’t want… I don’t know…”
“Spare me that.” Yingxing’s icy voice cut through the air like a blade. Chains rattled as he tried to straighten up and looked the other man straight in the eye. “Finish what you came here to do. Let’s get this over with.”
“N-no.”
“No?” he repeated, making sure he hadn’t misheard.
“I can’t…”
La Mancha rose from the ground. With trembling hands, he fastened his trousers, his gaze swept across the cell. He spotted the man’s torn clothes on the floor, right beside the beast that was barely breathing. Then he saw Yingxing’s naked legs, blood-stained and trembling slightly from exhaustion and pain. His eyes darted quickly away from the man’s private parts, afraid to admit to himself what had just taken place. After a moment, he turned his head away, lacking the courage to look him in the face.
“Not after… what I did to you.”
“It’s a pity you weren’t so kind-hearted earlier and couldn’t keep your dick in your pants.”
La Mancha clenched his jaw.
“I’m sorry… I know my words mean nothing to you…” he paused for a moment. “I-I can help you.”
Yingxing snorted with laughter. It was the first time that day he had truly laughed with a deep, weary sound, as if rising from the very depths of his soul.
“Help me?” He looked at him in disbelief. “How?”
“I can get you out of here.”
“And then what?” he asked in a voice of absolute calm.
“You’ll join the Galaxy Rangers. You’ll be cleared from the wanted lists, and get a new identity. You’ll start over.” He placed a hand over his heart, as if swearing an oath right then and there. “I swear on my name — La Mancha — that I will personally ensure your safety.”
“You’re right about one thing. Your name means shit to me.” He nodded downward, gesturing at his bare legs, and clenched his fists tighter. “And I don’t want your help. If you aren’t here to carry out the execution, get out.”
La Mancha pressed his lips into a thin line before nodding.
“Very well.”
He had absolutely no right to try and persuade him. He had already acted against his will once, and he had no intention of repeating that mistake. The message was clear: Yingxing intended to atone in his own way.
He turned on his heel, picked up his coat and cane, and headed toward the exit. The beast-shadows hissed and followed him. One by one, they began to dissolve into a red glow, vanishing into his right wrist.
Yingxing watched them in silence.
“What are they?” Yingxing finally asked, just as La Mancha reached the door.
“Beasts of Voracity,” he replied over his shoulder.
“Voracity,” he repeated the name, as if testing its weight on his tongue.
“Leviathans,” he clarified, his fingers tightening around his cane. “Creatures that would devour your body and soul, given the chance. They would leave nothing of you behind but a memory.”
A low laugh escaped Yingxing’s throat before he could stifle it. His intuition hadn’t failed him, this man was truly dangerous.
“So, you would really be capable of killing me?”
“Yes.”
“La Mancha, is it?” he asked, offering a faint smile. “If I ever get out of here, I’ll find you.”
La Mancha studied him for a moment. A hint of a smile appeared on his lips, as if he hoped that what the man was saying would one day prove true.
“I’ll be waiting.” He nodded.