Reincarnated as the Empire’s Executioner

"Don't die just yet, Kid. We're only getting started." ​The stench of burning flesh and the metallic tang of blood immediately stung the senses. The clanking of iron chains and suppressed groans echoed through the damp dungeon of Bastille-Caelum. ​The first sensation that jolted Albrecht Von Eisen back to consciousness was not the memory of his defeat on the battlefield, but an excruciating pain tearing through his chest. ​Where am I? Didn't I already burn to death? Albrecht thought, bewildered. ​He tried to move, but his wrists were locked by thick iron chains. His body hung stiffly in the middle of the dark, stony room. ​"This damn brat can still open his eyes?" growled a burly man in front of him. The man's black leather coat was caked with dried bloodstains. ​The torturer's hand pulled glowing red iron tongs from the furnace, and without warning, plunged them directly into the open wound on Albrecht's left chest. ​"Ugh!" Albrecht groaned, enduring the pain. His body twitched on reflex, but his eyes stared sharply without a trace of fear. ​"Just confess, Valen! Where did you hide Duke Crownhart's blood crystal?!" shouted another man wearing a leather mask who stood in the corner of the room. ​Hearing that name, fragments of unfamiliar memories suddenly invaded Albrecht's mind. Valen. An apprentice executioner of the lowest rank. Accused of stealing a valuable artifact belonging to a noble, even though these frail hands had never even touched it. ​So my soul is stuck in this miserable kid's body? Albrecht thought coldly. ​"Valen? I... don't know..." Albrecht whispered in the raspy voice of the body's owner. ​The torturer let out a derisive laugh instead. He pressed the hot iron deeper until Valen's ribcage made a cracking sound. He deliberately gouged out the flesh of the boy's chest alive to search for the location of the Aether-Core. ​"What a pity. Let's see how well your entrails handle being boiled alive," the torturer hissed. He lifted a copper pot filled with boiling oil from above the fireplace, then poured it directly onto Albrecht's chest. ​Insane pain exploded instantly. The body's nerves could not handle the torture, forcing Albrecht to vomit fresh blood. ​"This kid is useless, Sir," the torturer reported to the masked man. ​"Break his neck. Throw him into the butcher's pit. Aetherion has no need for trash," the masked man commanded nonchalantly. ​The torturer stepped forward, roughly grabbing the back of Albrecht's head with his two massive hands. With one forceful twist, the sound of a snapping bone echoed clearly. Albrecht's vision spun instantly, then went pitch black. ​The limp body was kicked carelessly into the disposal chute in the floor. Down below, the machinery of the Butcher's Clockwork Wheel spun wildly. Its rusted iron teeth were ready to shred whatever fell into them. ​Valen's corpse slammed into the iron gears. Their sharp edges began tearing into his back and ripping his clothes. Blood spattered everywhere. ​However, at the threshold of this second death, the Grand General's pride refused to yield. Albrecht Von Eisen's soul rebelled fiercely. A sudden pulse of dark energy erupted from behind his ruined chest. ​I refuse to die yet. ​Those eyes snapped wide open. The brown color in his irises vanished, transforming into a glowing, sharp ash-silver in the middle of the machinery's darkness. His broken neck bone cracked loudly, forcefully reconnecting under the surge of pure energy overflowing from his soul. ​Before his body could be crushed to pieces, Albrecht's hand shot out and grabbed the rotating gear shaft. The thick iron bent under his power. With one powerful push, Albrecht leaped out of the deadly pit and landed hard on the stone floor. ​The senior torturer, who had just turned around, froze in his tracks. His eyes bulged in shock as he looked at the figure that was supposed to be minced meat now standing behind him. ​"H-How are you still alive?!" he screamed in panic. ​Albrecht did not answer. His eyes swept through the room with a gaze as cold as ice. His right hand reached out, grabbing the hilt of a massive executioner's sword leaning against the wall. He lifted the weapon, which weighed dozens of kilograms, effortlessly with one hand, ignoring the weak muscles of Valen's body that screamed in protest. ​"Noisy." ​Sring! ​A single horizontal s***h cleaved through the air. The torturer had not even had time to draw his weapon when the black blade severed his neck. The man's head rolled across the floor with a shocked expression, followed by a spray of blood that drenched Albrecht's face. ​The masked man in the corner shrank back in terror. He hurriedly pulled out his silver dagger. "Y-You're not Valen! Who are you?!" ​Albrecht wiped the blood off his face with the back of his hand. He stepped forward slowly, like a grim reaper. "Me? I am the person who will sever the heads of all your masters." ​Before the masked man could scream for help, Albrecht lunged forward. Valen's physical body was indeed pathetic, but the Grand General's killing instincts were not dulled at all. The tip of the executioner's sword pierced through the Inquisitor's chest, splitting his heart, and pinning the man's body to the stone wall. ​The Inquisitor vomited blood, staring into Albrecht's silver eyes in horror before finally dying. ​Albrecht pulled his sword out by force. The torture chamber was now dead silent. He looked down, staring at his reflection in the blood-drenched blade. This body is complete garbage, his mind judged, but it will do for a warm-up. ​Suddenly, the pool of blood from the corpses of the two men evaporated into a thin red mist. The mist drifted and soaked into the pores of Albrecht's skin. The Blood-Aether technique inherited from his past life worked automatically, closing the severe wound on his chest and leaving behind only a terrifying scar. ​He stripped the black leather coat from the senior torturer, then put it on to cover Valen's wound-covered body. ​Time to leave. ​Albrecht kicked open the wooden basement door until it shattered to pieces. In the corridor outside, the thunderous sound of iron boots rushed closer. ​"There's an intruder in the basement! Secure the area!" someone yelled from the end of the hallway. ​Albrecht rolled his shoulder, adjusting his grip on the sword's hilt. A slight smile formed on his lips. The Aetherion Empire had betrayed him, and now they themselves were delivering a sword into his hands. ​He stepped casually out of the darkness, greeting a dozen armored guards charging at him with spears. ​"Just in time," Albrecht muttered. ​The soldier at the very front leaped, thrusting his spear toward Albrecht's neck. Albrecht did not bother stepping back. He simply twisted his waist slightly, letting the spearhead pass an inch from his face. At the same time, his giant sword swung, snapping the spear shaft while slashing the soldier's chest open from shoulder to waist. ​Blood flooded the corridor floor. The other soldiers stopped on reflex, horrified to see their comrade cleaved in two in a single attack. ​"Kill him! He's just an apprentice executioner! Attack him all at once!" shouted the guard commander from the back of the line. ​"Attack all at once?" Albrecht chuckled softly. "That's a tactic for real soldiers. You lot are just guard dogs." ​Albrecht broke right into the middle of the encirclement. Valen's body groaned in pain, but that pain only drove the General further into a battle frenzy. He spun his heavy sword like an iron top in the narrow space. Its momentum was impossible to parry. Two soldiers were sent flying into the wall, their ribcages crushed into pieces from the blow. ​Albrecht released his sword into the air for a second. His left hand shot out, grabbing a third soldier by the throat, choking him until the sound of a snapping bone rang out. He caught the hilt of his falling sword, spun his body, and parried a sword strike from the commander. ​"Your movements are too easy to read," Albrecht mocked, staring into the commander's eyes, which were beginning to panic. ​Albrecht stepped forward, slamming his elbow squarely into the commander's face until his nose bone shattered. As the commander stumbled back, Albrecht thrust his sword straight through the man's abdomen. ​"W-Who are you really..." the commander groaned, choking on thick blood. His hands feebly grabbed Albrecht's arm. ​Albrecht's silver eyes stared sharply from behind the dim torchlight. ​"Tell the demons in hell," Albrecht whispered as he pressed the sword deeper, "Albrecht Von Eisen has returned." ​He pulled his sword free, letting the commander's body collapse onto the pile of his subordinates' corpses. The stone corridor fell silent again, the thick stench of blood growing heavier in the air. ​Albrecht walked calmly past the pile of corpses toward the guard desk at the end of the hallway. His eyes caught a parchment scroll sealed with the imperial wax stamp. It was Aetherion's execution list. Right at the top, the name of the noble he hated most was written, the person who had orchestrated his death in his previous life. ​"You're still living comfortably on top of my suffering, Traitor," he hissed sharply. ​Albrecht snatched a half-face iron executioner mask from the table. He put it on slowly, hiding Valen's young face behind the cold steel. ​He walked up the stone stairs toward the surface. Every step he took was a bloody oath. This empire would fall by his hand. ​At the end of the stairs, a heavy iron door blocked his path. From behind the door, the noisy sounds of the crowd in the execution arena could be heard faintly. Albrecht kicked the door open with his foot. The bright afternoon sunlight immediately blinded his eyes, which had grown accustomed to the dark. ​"Who goes there? Where is the senior torturer guarding the basement?!" barked a high-ranking officer in silver armor. Behind him, dozens of soldiers stood in neat formation around the execution platform. ​Albrecht stepped forward, letting the door slam shut behind him. He stood tall, resting the blood-drenched giant sword on his shoulder. Thick blood dripped from the tip of the blade, falling with a hiss onto the hot cobblestones. ​"Your senior torturer has gone down to hell," Albrecht answered casually from behind his iron mask. ​The officer was shocked out of his wits, drawing his sword on reflex. "What did you say?! Don't you dare be insolent, Executioner!" ​From behind the slits of the mask, a pair of silver eyes stared straight at the officer. A suffocating aura of deadly dominance suddenly spread, making the air around them feel heavy. ​"I'm taking over his job from now on," Albrecht said softly. "Why, do you have an objection?"