The Great Oni
Volume (1) Benoni Chapter (4)
Precisely at nine o'clock the familiar translucent-blue panel flared to life in front of Li Fan.
> [No. 1]
> [Trial of the Buffalo King]
> [Difficulty – Hell]
> [Reward – Psychic Power]
> Control all living and non-living things with the mind.
> *No upper limit; the stronger your will, the stronger the power.*
> [No. 2]
> [Trial of the Demon Rat]
> [Difficulty – Demon]
> [Reward – Speed of Sound]
> Move at sonic speed and gain a body that can endure it.
> [No. 3]
> [Trial of Ten Fingers]
> [Difficulty – Pain]
> [Reward – Diamond Bones]
> Bones become diamond-tough (though not literal diamonds).
Li Fan exhaled in relief; the System had returned.
"Not bad—psychic power is useful… speed of sound and diamond bones are both awesome too. But it never explains the trial itself. Hard to pick."
After a minute's hesitation he settled on raw practicality: the Speed of Sound. He selected the Demon Rat trial.
A wave of vertigo hit; consciousness snapped to black.
---
He awoke in a narrow stone cell lit only by two dim yellow lamps. Metal cables pinned his wrists and ankles to the wall—no room to struggle. His heart hammered, and every bruise on his body throbbed; dried blood crusted his split lip.
"Ugh—" he groaned.
The heavy iron door creaked open. Two soldiers stepped in, clad in medieval-style cuirasses, both unmistakably European. One carried a large tin container and smiled nastily.
In accented English he drawled, "John, are you finally ready to confess?"
Li Fan, who spoke decent English, croaked back, "Confess to what?"
The second soldier said nothing; he simply backhanded Li Fan across the face.
*Smack.*
His vision blurred. Warm blood dripped from his nose.
"This mutt won't confess that easily," the striker snarled. "Let's get to work."
"Easy, friend," the first soldier chuckled. He lowered the tin and yanked Li Fan's shirt up, exposing his abdomen.
Inside the container three rats squealed and scratched.
The soldier strapped the tin to Li Fan's stomach with leather cords. "One more chance, John. Admit you butchered Alisa's family, or I swear we push this further."
Li Fan's breathing hitched. The image of frantic rats biting through his flesh overrode everything else. Voice shaking, he whispered, "O-okay… I confess."
The soldiers exchanged smug looks. "See? Not so hard," the first one laughed. "Of course, everybody knows you're not the real killer, but who cares? Confess or not, you'll die here anyway." He grinned wolfishly, and both men laughed, their cruel voices echoing off the stone walls.
"Ha—ha, ha, ha!"
The laughter of the two soldiers boomed and bounced around the cramped cell.
Below them, Li Fan stared at the three rats scurrying inside the metal bucket and felt sweat bead on his forehead.
A moment ago the words "Trial of the Demon Rat" had been just that—words—but now he understood perfectly.
He had once read online that, back in the old Roman Empire, interrogators sometimes used a torture called "rat torture" on condemned prisoners or captured spies.
The cruelest version chained a metal bucket—an excellent conductor of heat—against a prisoner's stomach, packed it with live rats, and then heated the bucket from the outside.
As the bucket grew hotter, the rats, desperate to escape, would eventually chew through the only soft material available: the prisoner's flesh.
Li Fan had read that the same method lingered in parts of South America—Brazil, Argentina, Chile—well into the 1980s.
"Shit… Shit.. Shit…" he muttered, trembling so hard sweat dripped from his brow.
"Ha-ha! You might piss your self, Johnny boy," one soldier jeered.
The other soldier laughed along, lifted a torch from its sconce, and pressed the flame beneath the bucket.
"Die screaming, traitor," he spat.
Li Fan had not yet felt physical pain, but dread itself squeezed tears from his eyes; panic trembled at the edge of madness.
It took almost no time.
The metal grew warm, then hot; the rats squealed and clawed frantically, their tiny paws thumping against the iron. Occasionally they brushed Li Fan's bare belly, and each touch made him flinch.
Before he could process the fear of gnawing teeth, he first felt the searing burn of the bucket.
And less than a minute later one rat finally snapped—the animal sank its incisors into his abdominal muscle.
"Aaaahhh!" Li Fan's eyes streamed.
The first rat alerted the others; together they bit and tore at his stomach.
"Hurts—hurts—aaah, aaahhhh!"
Soft belly tissue, crowded with nerves, was agony under even a mosquito bite; three rats ripping at once was indescribable.
Anyone who had never endured it could never truly grasp the pain.
"T-t-take the bucket off—kill me, kill me!"
He writhed, tears and mucus running unchecked, but the chains held him tight.
It did not take long for a ragged hole to open; Li Fan felt the rats force their way deeper, burrowing into his abdomen.
"Aaah—please—just kill me—aaah!"
Unable to find another exit, the rats gnawed at his intestines, yanking and swallowing what they could.
The soldiers only smiled wider, their amusement growing in direct proportion to Li Fan's suffering.