The subterranean detention block beneath the academy was freezing.
It was originally designed to hold rogue magical beasts captured during practical exams, complete with heavy mythril chains and mana-suppressing runic plates bolted to the damp stone walls. Now, it was holding the royal family's elite executioners.
The ten Silent Hounds were chained in a row. Their stealth suits had been stripped off by the commoner students, leaving them in simple gray undergarments. Heavy iron cuffs locked their wrists to the wall above their heads. None of them were screaming. They were highly trained, conditioned to endure standard torture. But the absolute, sterile precision of the spatial cuts on their ankles was clearly messing with their heads. They couldn't feel any ragged torn flesh or shattered bone, just a terrifying, smooth disconnect where their tendons used to be.
