Profane Ascendant-Chapter 53: Things To Say

"Where am I…?" Miguel opened his eyes and, in a faint voice, wondered where he was at the moment. The sensation of pain had completely vanished, which surprised him.

He began to wonder, Did I lose consciousness after that?! "Ugh…" Miguel tried to get up from the bed he was on, then carefully scanned the entire place, recognizing his surroundings.

There was someone a short distance away from him, wearing a white coat, completely absorbed in his work.

Miguel smiled inwardly. So… we're back at the palace! The moment he saw Cyn, he knew they had returned from the underworld to the royal palace, and that they were inside Cyn's laboratory.

He moved toward Cyn to see what he was doing. Cyn seemed busy and focused, but the closer Miguel got, the more a putrid stench assaulted his senses. He felt his heart nearly leap out of his chest from how vile the smell was. What was that? He tried not to breathe through his nose.

As he drew closer, Cyn's indifferent voice reached his ears. "If you come any closer, your expression will crumple."

He paused briefly while wiping one of the sharp tools he was using, then continued as he carefully examined a sample he had extracted. "And that's exactly what we don't want. One of the wires or nails might go flying. I spent hours stitching and fixing your skin properly…"

Miguel had no idea what Cyn was talking about, but the latter handed him something resembling a mirror and, with a nonchalant smile, told him, "Don't panic…"

Miguel took the mirror and looked at himself. It was not what he expected, but it was far better than what he would have looked like if Cyn had not intervened. He knew the state he had been in—those relentless blows; if only his body had been sturdier.

His skin was fixed and stitched together with wires and small nails. He opened his mouth and found his teeth secured to his gums with nails and wires as well.

Cyn mocked him from the side. "It was hard to gather everything from that floor. Some of it is currently resting in the bellies of the rats over there."

Miguel smiled helplessly. "You really didn't have to mention that."

Cyn teased him. "Well, it's better to know what's inside your opponents' bellies before facing them, right?"

Cyn held something between his fingers. Miguel merely stared. It was small and white. Cyn wore a smile on his face. Miguel reached out and took it between his fingers.

He looked into the mirror and opened his mouth, finding a gap in the area of his right molar. He placed it there—and the result was a perfect fit. It was one of his molars! His tooth. But… what was Cyn getting at?

Miguel stepped closer to Cyn to see what he was—what the hell?! "Ugh—!" He nearly vomited from the sheer horror of the sight. It was an open abdomen, without a body or anything surrounding it—just a stomach, carrying the stomach itself and the esophagus. An utterly disgusting scene.

Miguel staggered back, unable to speak. Cyn spoke to him. "I told you beforehand—if you want to at least return to your former state, you have to refrain from moving too much. I spent time putting you together and stitching you properly." He paused, then continued in a sarcastic tone. "After all this, I doubt your career prospects. But who knows? Maybe there are still some pussies who'd want you."

"You wouldn't know what those high-end prostitutes of the royal palace prefer. You're with me on this?"

Miguel simply stared in astonishment, then tried to smile—but he couldn't. He couldn't afford the cost of smiling in his current condition. The nails and wires embedded in his flesh hurt, but he understood Cyn's point. He was reassuring him that he would return to his former self.

Through that act, Miguel felt gratitude toward him despite everything. Cyn picked up a piece of raw meat and offered it to Miguel. "So? Won't you take a bite as well? That way you'll be even."

Miguel had a sudden realization. In a wavering voice, he said, "Don't tell me… that?"

Cyn cut him off with a smile. "Yeah. A giant rat."

With a tone of disgust, Miguel said, "Ewwww. Why? And how?!"

Cyn thought carefully, recalling things that had happened, especially after Miguel lost consciousness, before speaking. "He died before we could extract anything from him. In the end, I had nothing to do but this, just to pass some time… I suppose."

Miguel wanted to argue. He could be ruthless, but doing things like this would strip him of many other things. Acts like these were meant for specific people, and no matter how he looked at it, Cyn did not seem like one of them. The Church kept such people as well—individuals assigned to these tasks. But—

Who were they? Most of them were heretics and people who had lost the meaning of life. He knew about Cyn's actions in the laboratory, about the blood his hands had spilled, but he had not expected him to go this far…

No—he had gone that far before. His memory returned to when they encountered Tristan. It had been horrific. There was no skin—just flesh, flesh reeking of rot!

Was Cyn really…?! But that faint smile on his lips—Miguel could not tell whether it was fake or not.

Yet he knew that Cyn was, at the very least, sincere in his intentions—and at the very least, not as ugly as… him.

He did not want to keep looking and stepped back, remembering something. "What about Kassal and the others?!"

A light chuckle escaped Cyn's lips as he recalled something. "As for them—hehe, I completely forgot about them!"

Miguel was thrown off by such an answer. Did he really forget them? But how? What if—?! Cyn noticed the confusion and worry on Miguel's face and reassured him. "I'm just joking. They returned two days ago. They weren't in the best condition, but at least…"

Cyn recalled their appearances and outfits. That person must have toyed with them. They had been wearing women's clothes and makeup—like an ugly granny trying to pull a young stud to do the did behind a barn.

Miguel was slightly surprised. He thought, Did that much time pass while I was unconscious? But it didn't matter—at least they were back.

He had something he wanted to say to Cyn about the changes that had occurred. His face showed it all. Although Cyn noticed something, he failed to grasp the truth behind it.

"If it's about that, then that rat is actually uglier than you. But you still have important points over him. Looks don't matter—I won't be on the same bed with you anyway."

Miguel smiled. He wished it were really that simple, but he knew it went beyond that. Since Cyn did not know what was going through his mind, Miguel explained it himself, in a resolute tone that conveyed how important this step was to him. "It was fun—this experience here at the palace—but I intend to return to the Church…"

In a hurried tone, before Cyn could interrupt him, Miguel continued. "And no—no, not as a dog this time. I've been thinking about this for a while. It's not that life in the palace doesn't suit me, but it taught me comfort, and I've grown lax… so that's all." With a smile and a laugh, he added, "We should step aside and give others the chance to take the torch of favor in our place. Let them taste it too—and some of Vance's nonsense!"

He completely forgot himself and began reminiscing because of that smile, then added, "The Ravenline will have a hand inside the Church. Of course, right now I'm nothing in the Church at all! It's a challenge for someone like me—a Scar bearer! Fortunately, my Scar makes me harder to detect, but… it's still extremely difficult. I'll try to set foot there and carve out a place for myself. So—"

Cyn reassured him. "At least you're not leaving us—or I would've disposed of you on this operating table." He looked at him. "I'm just joking. Anyway, just focus on healing." He gave him a playful look.

Miguel accepted his reality and clasped his hands. "Ay ay ay, I get it. No pussy for me!"

Cyn told him to leave. "Alright, you can go now. One way or another, we've fabricated a reason. We said you fell from the top of the palace's southern tower and weren't careful. Besides, your little friend won't be able to work until you recover, in case that woman summons you."

Well, actions were taken beforehand, Miguel thought.

He bid Cyn farewell before leaving the laboratory.

Cyn turned his gaze back to the dissected abdomen before him. Despite the disgusting sight before his eyes, he did not blink.

He was looking at something—something black. It was a rat.

Inside Ramon's stomach, it had not decomposed and had not been eaten. Some blood vessels extended from it, clinging to the stomach and connecting to it. But that was not the unique thing—what stood out was the small marking drawn on the rat's belly.

It was a circular black Scar.

Cyn sank into thought as he replayed the scene—the scene that had taken place a few days earlier.