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Kiyoshi's words were all processed just as equally as the Samurai's, however, the latter continued to emotionally arouse Masuyo each time his mouth opened. One dead samurai would bring them their greatest threat? Had he not just realized and acknowledged Masuyo's strength, the very strength he very mildly displayed just a moment ago? He must not have considering his words continued to spill out as verbal poison. Still looking back, he allowed a reasonable amount of time to pass once he decided to finally speak himself.

"Watch your tongue. Kiyoshi is right, Akuharu made a mockery of you samurai, you samurai who prance around and preach justice and peace when you all are so blind and naive to the point where you can't even see when someone is pulling you on strings like a puppet. . ."

Removing his eyes, he looked ahead as he stood between both tunnel entrances, infinitely curious as to where they could've possibly led. While familiar with his home, Masuyo hadn't had the great many years to explore it fully as Kiyoshi did, which only made his inability to remember that particular area quite understandable. Nevertheless, he glanced back at the samurai once more and spoke thereafter.

"Which way leads to the village, unfortunately, I didn't live here long enough to discover these specific tunnels. If you, as a human, would be so kind as to lead the way, we'd all be grateful."

Knocked out cold, you knew nothing of your whereabouts nor what happened to you after your struggle against the amassed crowd of angry civilians. For hours, you remained unconscious as they roughly drug down to his sacred place, a place where no sane man ever wanted to step foot within. The bulk of the angry mob left you in his care, and once you awakened, you came to find yourself hoisted on a vertical table. Its metallic material had been freezing cold against your soft, warm flesh, so much so that it seemed to momentarily dampen the uncomfortable heat that swelled within your insides from the infection. Both of your arms and legs were strapped down at 45^o angles while fully extended.

Had you looked around, you'd have easily noticed a wide number of unmanned machines along with tools and objects built for torturing. Above you lay two paralleled orbs, roughly 5 meters apart with continuous streams of lighting passing through and around them. There'd been a horizontal walkway 10 meters in front of you (5m above ground). It was there that the man revealed himself once more, emphasizing the sick look that sprawled across your face as the infection slowly ate away at your life.

"Oh, didn't expect to see me again? No hello, no warm welcome? Oh well, you never came off as the greeting type anyway. But my, where are my manners. Welcome to me lab, where the living dies and the dead lives."

Strapped down by both wrist and ankles by mechanical, lever control devices, the only thing you could realistic have moved was your head. Looking deep into your eyes, he finally removed his hood and the cloth that concealed the majority of his face. Stitches, ran across his mouth and around his neck, yet, they moved as if unhindered.

"Did the townsfolk treat you well? I hope they weren't too rough. Regardless, I have a question to ask that I want you to answer truthfully. . .

how did teetering between life and death make you feel?"