As the previous King pleaded with the stranger who was sitting on the throne, with a look on his face that said he had control over this place, Vladimir in return stared at Laurence who seemed nothing but a weakling.
“What is your name?” questioned Vladimir.
Laurence looked startled and slightly confused at the question. Not because he was surprised that someone was asking what his name was, but because he didn’t remember what his name was. He tried hard to remember it, but he couldn’t. Even an hour of torture in Hell felt like years, and the previous King of Devon had spent around two decades here that felt like eternity, where he had forgotten his name.
Vladimir rolled his eyes again. Only a weakling would forget such a simple thing. “Forget it. Your name is Useless. Do you know why you are here? Away from being punished?”
The man shook his head. Even a man who was of strong mind and body always broke down eventually when he stepped into the prison of Hell, where there was no escape.
Vladimir didn’t have to touch the man to know his history as he had already heard enough from Odin about how the man was. His eyes narrowed for the things this useless man had done to his daughter.
“Let’s hope you still remember some things. It wouldn’t be enjoyable if you don’t remember at least a few of it,” remarked Vladimir before he stood up from his seat and made his way down the three steps of his throne. Compared to Vladimir, the previous King looked smaller in height, and the devil stood tall.
Bringing his hand forward, Vladimir placed his index finger on the low-life’s forehead, and the previous memories came flooding in Laurence’s mind, the life he once had and lived. The things he did and how proud he was of his position while abusing others for his interest. Laurence’s back that was hunched slowly started to straighten before it took on the stature of the person who he once was before being dragged to Hell by the Salvette Mortem.
He also remembered the way he had died, and suddenly anger started to fill up in his body. His very own son had killed him! His hand moved up to his chest, and he felt the hollowness of his chest where Calhoun had dug his fingers into his chest to grab his heart and pull it out from his chest.
“How does it feel?” questioned Vladimir, circling Useless as he stared at the person.
The previous King of Devon misunderstood the situation and came to believe that this stranger who had returned his pride and taken him away from torture was a friend. Also, coming to believe that the stranger would help him to get out of this Hell. “What are you doing here in Hell, Useless?”
“I am the King of Devon! A Hawthrone by blood!” raged Laurence. Forgetting that the stranger in front of him was the one, to bring back his memories as if they took place yesterday. He glared at the stranger with disrespect in his eyes.
A smirk appeared on Vladimir’s lips. Glad to hear that the King’s memories had returned. It would be useless to harm a person if that person didn’t even remember what he did and who he was. Vladimir would keep bringing back the King’s memories, and he would crush them in a way that would make the King wish that his eyes had not fallen on his dear daughter.
“You mean the previous King,” Vladimir corrected the prideful King. “You are a dead person now, did you forget how you died?”
“How can I?” the King’s eyes lit up in anger.
Laurence had trusted that bastard son of his, but who knew that his very own son would backstab him. He had been considerate towards the boy by letting him inside the castle after the woman’s death, giving the boy a place to learn and thrive. And what did he do? Bite the hand that was feeding him!
“I will kill him! I will break every bone in his body and feed it to those damn wolves of his. I gave him shelter, and he killed me,” glared Laurence.
Vladimir, who had been circling the man like a hawk, stopped walking and he clicked his tongue, “Tch, how awful that must be. How did he kill you?”
The souls who entered the haven of Hell belonged to Vladimir. He could see the memories and deeds that passed through their mind, and he could read their past by his mere touch on them, but it was more enjoyable listening to people cry and scream in frustration.
Calhoun, his grandson, had done an excellent job by killing this man, taking his time to let the previous King know who his killer was. As expected from his kin, thought Vladimir to himself. Calhoun had all those qualities he would have wished for in his grandchild. Cunning, manipulative, a person who killed others without a thought and had every other quality that he possessed.
“I will kill him right now! I need to get out of here!” said Laurence, looking back and forth to see where he was. When he looked up, the ceiling was too high as if it reached the sky’s darkness that looked like a black abyss.
Vladimir snapped his fingers, and a sudden pain struck Laurence, making him fall on his knees, “Argh!” groaned the man.
“So, Useless, you plan to kill him?” questioned Vladimir with a calm voice.
“W-what are you doing?” asked Laurence, who was in pain.
“Paying back for your kindness, of course. Don’t you like it?” the devil’s head tilted to the side as he looked down upon the insect that he wanted to squash, but the fear that wafted from the King was enough to have him on his toes.
Odin had moved to one side of the wall so that he could enjoy the view better as his Master punished the ungrateful vampire who was the cause of Lady Constance’s death.
“Make it stop! Stop it!” shouted Laurence.
