Another day, another priest invited to the den of evil.
"Welcome, Your Eminence," the paladin said to the latest and, thankfully, last guest he would need to deal with. "His Holiness is expecting your arrival. Please follow me into the inner sanctum."
After a difficult nod, the lumbering archpriest let out heavy breaths as he waddled through the basilica's entrance, muttering puffy grievances to his escort all the while.
"Huff… Huff huff… This better be fucking important… Summoning all of us away from our… holy duties… Humph!"
"Your dedication to the cause is exemplary, reverend one," the paladin dully noted with a roll of his eyes, as if having long grown tired of repeating the same phrase over and over for one too many times. "That said, numerous questionable reports from the frontier aside… Our agents have confirmed the shocking rumor which was floating around not so long ago—the very same one that left the imperial palace in complete frenzy."
One screeching halt could be heard as the archpriest brought his bulk to a sudden stop. Then, with a nervous lick of his lips, said paunchy man immediately made his query known, as if fearing such good news was just some trick of the ears.
"It's true, then?! Those disgusting orcs… They have all been eradicated?"
"More like a combination between 'vanishing into thin air' and 'doomed rebellion against their dark masters'… Regardless, one thing remains clear: the Demon King's army, which was filled to the brim with those loathsome beasts since the war's very beginning, has completely ceased its relentless advance."
"I see…"
For the briefest of moments, blessed silence seemed to descend upon the holy house of worship. Yet, this tranquillity was soon broken, especially once the archpriest turned toward his escort with a piggish look. Far above, warm rays of noonlight passed through beautiful stained glasses and shone upon said clergyman, causing his extravagant vestment—as well as the crooked smile he now wore—to glimmer with a cruel glint.
"So, another summoned hero has appeared in our world, then."
"It certainly seems to be the case, given that the Church's chosen champion couldn't even hope to achieve such a feat."
With his piece said, the paladin resumed his walk once more, causing indignant sounds of protest from behind him to echo across marble hallways.
The faithful guardian knew that he was overstepping his boundary with this blatant show of disrespect—not that these "holy men" whose greed and desires eclipsed the very masses they looked down on didn't deserve such. Nevertheless, it simply got grating when all you heard in the most sacred place across the empire were plots and schemes, even against summoned heroes blessed by the very Goddess Herself.
Haunting words of warning from his grandfather—born of common blood and had to fight tooth and nail into the position of a paladin captain—seemed so distant now. Oh, how foolish was the young, naive boy who blindly chased after the same glory, only to find himself becoming a glorified guard dog for insidious swine—
A burning sensation seared into the paladin's throat, forcing him to halt his steps. The taste of iron was at the tip of his tongue, especially once gurgling heat began to boil him from the inside out.
Off to the side, a faint light dimmed as the archpriest lowered his raised hand. Then, with a smug smirk, he sneered at the paladin, as if daring him to step out of line again.
Absentmindedly, the holy warrior scratched at a still-sizzling tattoo on his neck—the "gift" for lowborns without any talent for magic such as himself.
For the common folk, most could only dream of being able to serve as a living vessel for the divine, let alone invoking holy miracles on their own. Thus, once upon a time, he had jumped for joy upon receiving this glowing mark—the undeniable proof of his allegiance to the Church…
Now, it was simply another shackle, as reality slapped him in the face.
That said, even a muzzled dog wasn't going to roll over so easily.
"You're already the last to arrive, 'reverend one.' His Holiness is not known for his patience, lest we forget what happened to those who dallied around with his sacred summons."
With that, the paladin marched forth, leaving behind a baffled archpriest once more. It didn't take long before sounds of hurried waddles tried to catch up, and the faithful guardian could just imagine how incensed his dear guest must be looking right now.
It was a small victory. An aimless showing of defiance… but still a triumph against black-hearted cretins, nonetheless.
Such images made the paladin switch his line of thought, toward why this war their empire got sucked into started out so terrible.
Orcs.
An unholy union between dark magic and demonic wickedness… Even in this capital city, so far away from the brutal frontier, few were those who hadn't heard of these barbaric beasts.
The "green tide," as most survivors called it, was as grim as it was grisly. Horror tales regarding the fate of captured townsfolk or soldiers would always send shivers down one's spine, especially upon hearing how the monstrous horde replenished its numbers so rapidly…
Without a doubt, orcs truly deserved their title as the Demon King's most evil creation. Yet, to think that they had been vanquished to the very last… Indeed, it was a blessing that monstrosities like those would nevermore be able to force themselves upon the innocent!
"Ah… Ahhh… No, please…"
… Then again, such wishful thinking seemed quite naive, especially when monsters in human skin had infested even this holiest of places.
"Sir… please… please stop…"
"Quiet, wench! It seems I need to discipline you on how to serve your betters~"
The paladin glanced back and instantly wished that he hadn't bothered with it.
His oh-so-honored guest had decided to take a little detour, annoyingly enough. Lo and behold, the greasy horndog of an archpriest had intruded upon some indebted—a canine beastman if her bushy tail and ears were any indication. This scene, to most outsiders or visitors, would have certainly looked scandalizing beyond belief.
For faithful guardians such as the paladin himself, however, it was just another dark deed they had to witness every so often.
The young wolf girl turned toward him with tears brimming at the corner of her eyes. He didn't recognize her, which meant that she was one of the new arrivals—prisoners of war who were gifted to the Church for "redemption."
On paper, those like her were supposed to help with chores or honest labors, until the Goddess's merciful light could wash away their sin of allying with the Demon King. In reality… they were but fat little lambs, fed to a bunch of ravenous wolves wearing priestly clothes.
"Please… help…"
Weak, desperate whimpers caused the paladin's legs to move on their own, before his mind put a halt to it.
Why even bother?
Not so far away, quite a few people—from downtrodden indebted to fidgeting clerics—were glancing at the scene with their heads down. However, the paladin didn't miss how most still tried to shoot him pleading looks, knowing that he was one of the rare few within this place who loathed such sinful acts of depravity.
Once upon a time, that would have been more than enough for him to swing his fist of justice down on the wicked.
Yet… what did it ever get him, aside from getting his body flogged and whipped, or his insides tormented by scorching fire?
Worse still… what did it even manage to change?
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing changed, despite the punishments he endured for years on end, standing up against cruelties and blatant acts of evil…
At least it's an indebted and not a nun or priestess. With gritted teeth, the paladin closed both eyes, letting the mind justify his decision. Plus, this is still far better than being worked to death at the mines, or getting sold off at the slave markets… Just ignore it and move on. It's simply not possible to change a damn thing—
*Whack*
One piercing noise echoed across the corridor, before muffled sounds of sobbing filled the air.
The wolf girl, having refused to enter a shady confessional room with the "holy man," was now sporting a scarlet bruise on her teary cheek.
Then, just as another slap came flying—while an armored fist of a paladin moved to intercept—something completely unexpected happened.
((( 👁 )))
"Oh… Oh holy father! Blessed be this one… Blessed be this one for meeting a wondrous champion of light such as yourself!!!"
A slim figure, waving a pristine bible left and right, barged through the anxious crowd before staggering his way toward the bewildered trio. The holy warrior paused, his fist frozen in midair. Meanwhile, the archpriest couldn't help but gape in disbelief, his mind struggling to comprehend how such a sacred object could ever be sullied by some vagabond cloaked in rags and dirt.
From a faraway corner, grating moans and putrid smells filled the air as a small crowd of wretches appeared, holding in their hands the same holy books that stood out like priceless gems amidst a wave of trash. Seeing this, the archpriest frowned. A certain rumor finally came to his mind.
Weeks ago, for whatever reason, His Holiness had decided to open the gate of this great basilica to the unwashed masses. Worse still, the madness did not end there, especially when beggars and vagrants—utter filth that plagued the capital—were said to be invited and enlightened by the pope himself!
The archpriest couldn't help but grimace in disgust, sneering at the miserable rabble. A shuffling sound halted his thought, and the archpriest's frown deepened when the vagabond that had rudely interrupted his pleasure drew near.
"Merciful father, please enlighten this foolish soul! So many sacred texts, wasted on this stupid mind… Please, holy father, teach this wretched one a word, just a few words!"
The dirty vagabond drew the sacred book open, practically shoving it in front of the archpriest's face. A thin finger pointed here and there without any direction, and it was not lost on anyone even remotely literate that this dullard was dumb enough to hold the book upside down.
The archpriest glared at the imbecile, before glancing to the guard dog accompanying him with a clear order in his gaze. Yet, the damn paladin kept his sword sheathed, a subtle smirk forming at the corner of his mouth.
"This young lad is of the less fortunate flock His Holiness had personally invited, 'reverend one.' To deny him the understanding of our most holy teachings would be against the Goddess's will, don't you agree?" Just as the archpriest was about to raise his hand and activate the insolent dog's leash, the latter quickly added, "All summoned by the pope have been ordained to help him enlighten the poor masses during this conclave, lest there be… consequences… as some bishops had learned."
Another frown marred the archpriest's face. "His Holiness would punish his most devout followers for not wasting their time on this bunch of brainless sheep?"
"Indeed. That said, I think that you should hurry and decide. The hour grows late, and if the folks over there reach us, it won't just be this young lad you need to enlighten, 'reverend one.'"
True to his word, the unwashed rabble was now nearing from behind them, getting close enough that the archpriest could make out their miserable wailing. They screamed, shouted, and begged for attention, for a single word of enlightenment so that their wretched minds could comprehend a fraction of the precious books which were given to them. Worse still, the annoying vagabond was blocking the path ahead, determined to stay rooted until getting what he asked for.
The archpriest clicked his tongue, his mood further ruined as the furry wench slipped away from his grasp and scurried off. Turning toward the vagabond, the archpriest decided to just get this over with, if only to avoid a lashing from his superior.
A handout of knowledge—as brief and minimal as any beggar deserved—was hastily delivered, though the archpriest doubted this vagabond would even remember a single word that he had oh so graciously taught. Thus, his preaching soon turned into random yapping that quickly came to an end. Yet, as he was about to depart, lest the wretched crowd from behind catch up and waste his time even further, the bible was shoved in front of him once more.
"Just another one, holy father. Please, I beg you! Just one more, please!!!"
Shameless. How utterly shameless! Like the worthless refugees flocking into the capital, this vagabond knew naught but begged for alms. As expected of the filth that dragged down this glorious empire!
"There's this part I simply must show you, holy father. Please look at it for me, and I promise to be out of your hair…"
A sneer covered the archpriest's face, while the paladin next to him simply smirked in amusement. "Devout preachers such as yourself would never deny such a simple request from a hopeful worshipper, right? 'Reverend one'?" The paladin asked aloud, cutting off any excuse the archpriest was about to give. With gritted teeth, the archpriest mumbled his agreement, his eyes glared hatefully at the fluttering papers as the vagabond continued to turn page after page until—
…
What is… this?
Something was staring straight at him.
Something was causing his head to go blank.
A dizzying sensation overwhelmed the mind, causing one's eyelids to grow heavier and heavier… Survival instinct kicked in, warning, screaming at the danger that was taking root within the body itself… Muscles grew weak… weary… tired… no longer in control… until…
The last thing the archpriest could register was a rectangular object, concealed within a small, hollowed-out section of the bible, before everything went dark.
((( 👁 )))
"All right, I think that's everyone. Let's get this show on the road, then!"
The echoing sound of a finger snap jolted the paladin awake. His heart beat violently while he took in ghastly breaths, as if having awoken from some deep and terrifying slumber. A flood of memories tried to make themselves known, only to turn fragmented, blurry, painful. He looked left and right in a panic, yet the sight around him only brought more confusion—and dread—to his thundering heart.
"Where… am I?"
"What's going on here?"
"Is this… Are we in the inner sanctum?"
Confused murmurs resounded, from high-ranking priests to holy warriors tasked with protecting the basilica. Everyone was seated in front of a long, opulent table, and it was the glittering splendor of their surroundings that gave the first clue to where they were.
The pope's chamber? How… When did I get here? The paladin's thought came in a panic. His eyes darted left and right, though the dazzling sight of gold only gave him a headache. He tried to get up from his seat, yet his legs remained rooted. A glance around the table revealed that several others had realized the same thing, and it didn't take long before the room descended into a shouting match.
"What is this?! Guards! GUARDS!!!"
"All the paladins are trapped like us as well, you dimwit! They're sitting right across us, can't you fucking see?!"
"We can't use our miracles or magic! Just what is going on…?"
"SOMEONE!!! ANYONE!!! HELP—"
*Clap*
A sudden sound, so quiet, yet somehow piercing, sharply echoed.
The room sunk into silence as everyone looked toward the top of the table, where a man stood at the head of this conclave.
Clothed in a pure-white robe laced with countless gemstones, as well as a papal tiara which easily dwarfed the emperor's very crown, the holy pope made himself known. He was the only person standing in the room, looming over all, and everyone couldn't help but wonder how his presence went unnoticed for so long.
"Your Holiness! Just what is—"
*Clap*
The holy man clad in grandeur smacked his hands together, quieting the room. Again, and again, and again, whenever someone tried to speak up.
A chill ran down the paladin's spine at the sheer wrongness of this scene, as if he was watching a rickety puppet carrying out the same movement, just to keep the illusion that it was "alive."
And, like any decrepit doll nearing its end, it didn't take long before the pope ceased his act completely, falling face-first onto the table.
*Wham*
The entire gathering was stunned speechless. A bloated archpriest—the very same one the paladin had escorted earlier—even looked to be on the verge of hyperventilation. Just as the room was about to descend into absolute pandemonium, however, a soothing voice cut through the budding chaos.
"Hm… Seems that simple commands beneath the subconscious still work best after all. Ah well, you live and learn, I suppose."
There were several gasps of bewilderment upon the sight of a stranger cloaked in rags, standing right next to the pope. People blinked in disbelief, as if their mind had just realized the stranger's existence—which had somehow evaded recognition until now.
For the paladin, his shock was even greater. After all, this stranger was the very vagabond he last saw before losing consciousness!
My… My head…!
Splintered memories burst forth, as if unsealed on someone's command. The paladin saw in his mind images of the guest he needed to escort growing groggy. He remembered extending a hand and asking what was wrong—if only on principle—just to have a bible shoved in front of his face. A cold dread washed over his entire being, now remembering what happened when he laid eyes upon it.
That object… The cursed artifact this stranger is holding right now!
Paladins and priests alike, all having their memories returned, all recalling a dreamy time when their bodies acted without any need for the mind… now couldn't help but stare fearfully at the rectangular object in the stranger's hand.
"Ah, good! I see that everyone understands the situation. Excellent. This certainly speeds things up."
The stranger mused, unveiling the hood atop a tattered cloak, and the paladin could just feel a hitch in his breath.
Youthful features, marred by stains yet undeniably delicate, stared back at gaping mouths. Soft skin that even smut couldn't fully blemish, dirty blond hair that somehow shone under the stained glasses' radiance. And those lips… so gentle, sporting an ever-present smile that could make one's heart skip a beat…
Yet, it was the pair of crimson eyes, faded and faraway, serene yet indifferent, that truly captivated one's soul. Those pupils made it feel as if this haunting beauty was not looking at them, but through them, toward somewhere distant no one might ever know…
The paladin almost forgot to breathe. Before him, before others, was someone whose beauty looked so sublime it might have been carved from marble. The holy warrior had heard tales of alluring sirens and nasty succubi capturing the heart of men with just a gaze, and he couldn't help but wonder if this being before them was the same.
"Hm~ Nice to see that you're all enjoying the eye candy. Still, we have a tight schedule ahead, so let's keep our head in the game, yeah?"
And just like that, the charm was broken. The stranger's voice—calm, soothing, and unmistakably male's—swiftly reminded everyone of the predicament they were in.
"Who the hell are you?! Explain yourself at once!"
"Guards, get him! Smite this infidel!"
"By the will of the divine, you shall meet your end, heretic—"
*Clap*
A simple noise quietened the room once more. The fallen pope, whose face still rested on the table, had started smacking his hands together again, as if chiding all unruly followers for the rudeness to their special guest.
"Ah, thank you, your holiness. Your aid is much appreciated." The stranger's smile widened as he helped the pope up. Such an act should have been heartening, yet the paladin only felt a chilling dread that made his blood run cold, especially upon seeing the pope's visage, no longer hidden by dark shadows of the room.
"Uuuu…"
Drooling and moaning like a degenerated zombie while each of his eyes turned in a different direction, the pope no longer looked like the lofty patriarch with grand ambitions of a theocracy of his own. Seeing a man so blessed—who once called down heavenly punishments that wiped out entire demonic armies—reduced to such a sorry state… many in the room couldn't help but shiver as their frayed nerves finally gave in.
"Hm? What was that?" The stranger leaned closer to the pope. He then nodded several times, slowly, deliberately, as if the mumbling of a madman in his vegetative state held any meaning at all. "Ah, of course! My apology everyone, but in my haste, it seems that I've forgotten to even introduce myself!"
With both eyes closed and a radiant smile, the youthful stranger clasped his hands together as he addressed the quivering mass. "My name is… unimportant… and soon enough, so will yours! That said, there are a few titles you folks have been giving me. Titles which you might find quite familiar."
A pregnant pause hung in the air, causing everyone to shift nervously in their seat.
"For those in the Demon Continent, most now know of me as 'Orc Bane,' for obvious reasons…"
Collective gasps resounded upon the revelation, of the mysterious figure credited with wiping out the green tide.
Yet, it was what got uttered next that truly shocked everyone to their very core.
"And, to the good people of this Ark Continent—or Holy Realm, as you recently renamed it… Perhaps the word 'Hangman' might jog a memory or two?"
The… The Hangman…!!!
Shock, awe, and dread flooded the paladin at once, upon realizing just who this stranger, this horrible myth, truly was.
"No way… Did he mean… The one killing all our—"
"—the Bloody Scarecrow, sowing terrors across the frontier—"
"—a lie! Naught but tall tales from deserters and escaped beastmen—"
"—every slaver, hanged to the last, without any sign of resistance—"
"—can't be happening… This… This must be some kind of nightmare!!!"
The paladin's pupils dilated as fear gripped his heart. Even in the capital city, everyone—young and old, rich and poor alike—had heard about the mysterious villain known as the Hangman. So infamous, so monstrous was this criminal, that even gossips about his existence were outlawed by the Imperial Family itself!
And right now, he was standing before them, like a bloodthirsty hunter having cornered his prey.
"Right, now that the formalities are done and dealt with, let's get to the main attraction of this event, shall we? C'mon people, get to it. You know where to go."
The stranger tapped his rectangular artifact. As if on cue, everyone stood up at once, their legs carrying them forward, ignoring the pleas, the screams, the desperation, as if one's body no longer held any real control left. The paladin stepped in line, his mind a jumbled mess. His faith felt as shaky as the march he found himself in, before outright sinking upon the sight he came to witness.
A wide perron connected the basilica's entrance with several flights of stairs descending to the grand plaza of the capital—which was now packed to the brim with onlookers.
A week ago, all high-ranking servants of the Church were summoned, and the pope had declared that there would be an important announcement after today's conclave. He had insisted that every citizen in the capital should attend, every faction—big or small—should heed the word. His commands, increasingly strange and out of character, hadn't felt like an important detail back then.
Now, the wheezing, shaking row of the condemned could only regret their decision.
People pointed, whispering their confusion at the long column of holy men and women lining up on the platform, though the muttering died down as the pope himself stepped forward.
"I hAve sInNed!" The stuttering confession caught everyone by surprise, yet it was what came next that drew gasps of horror from the crowd. "I haVe orDerEd the ThOrns, hoLiest of wArrioRs, to bReak ThE TRuce bEtweeN demOns anD MEn… I aM the reASon we arE at WAR!!!"
Furious murmurs of disbelief spread like wildfire among the mob, especially as more priests and paladins started shouting their own crimes out to the world.
"I have sinned! When the frontier called for aid, I gave orders to delay holy reinforcements, so that the demon armies could break through!"
"I have sinned! I demanded extra tolls and faith from besieged towns, so that the Church's influence could grow further!"
"I have sinned! I supplied mercenaries and slavers, so that they could hunt down deserters and those from beastman tribes. I also took bribes from mines and nobles looking to buy cheap slaves!"
"I have sinned—"
"I have sinned—"
"I have sinned—"
One by one, the "holiest" of the Church confessed their dark secrets. Some tried to shut their mouth tight, or even bite down on their own tongue in desperation. Yet, it was all in vain. Like puppets controlled by invisible strings, their actions were no longer theirs to make.
As the last sinful revelation came to an end, a heavy silence weighed down on those at the plaza, frightening and foreboding. Time itself seemed to freeze for a moment.
Then, the inevitable began.
*Thud*
It was unclear who threw the first pebble, yet not a soul spoke out as the pope's papal tiara fell off his head, landing squarely on the ground.
As if a fuse had been lit, the rain of punishments commenced.
*Thud*Thud*THUD*THUD*
Stones, rocks, debris of all kinds flew toward the line of those condemned. Flesh crumbled as blood and gore burst forth, staining the silky, pristine clothes bought from blood money. Heads and bodies got pounded into paste. The color red flowed freely, descending the stony steps like a visceral fountain, while sounds of tumbling corpses filled in the background.
The paladin watched as everyone around him fell one by one. An archpriest on his left tried to invoke the miracle of protection. A paladin on his right exerted every ounce of aura to weather the onslaught. Yet, all failed in the end. Faith and soul were rendered helpless against the wrath of sheep who no longer believed in their own shepherds, as if fate itself had declared this was to be their ultimate fate.
His heart, once thundering in fear, now felt strangely at ease.
Perhaps… This is meant to be…
As a holy warrior trusted with protecting the basilica, the paladin was no stranger to the dark deeds—and even darker schemes—that had long infested this place. He could not claim ignorance as he was the few standing guard when the pope declared holy ambitions that would see the Church ascend to ever greater heights. He could not claim innocence when the blood of so many might have been spared, had he spoken up against the act. He wasn't strong enough, brave enough, or even faithful enough. Whatever ideals and hopes he once had, fighting against the wicked to protect the weak, had long been snuffed out. And so, he himself was as sinful as the rest.
And, for that crime… perhaps, this was to be his punishment…
At least, it's over now… Father, mother, I tried… Grandfather, I'm sorry that I failed to become the hero I once boasted…
The paladin closed both eyes, a sad smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He stood firm, no longer burdened by guilt, awaiting judgment.
…
Yet…
A second passed. Then two, then three. Before long, an entire minute must have gone by, yet the sensation of pain, of death, never fell upon him.
Slowly, his eyes opened.
Rocks were still flying, battering remains that no longer looked recognizable. A cobblestone found its way toward the paladin, and yet… it missed? Similar projectiles, all aiming for him, all somehow missed their mark by a hair's breadth.
What… What is going on…?
"Do better. Be better."
Someone's voice—hauntingly calm—resounded from behind, before fading away into the wind.
The paladin could feel a hitch in his breath.
Nearby, a few priests and holy warriors, whose ideals had long been lost to the reality of their world, yet refused to fall to dark depths of corruption, were similarly shaken. They had heard the same whisper. They all understood what it meant.
Most burst into tears, knowing that the reaper had passed by this day, and had given them another chance instead.
The paladin, however, only felt shame, for desiring an easy way out to escape his failures.
Yet, his heart and soul—once beaten into submission—now burned more fiercely than ever before.
"I'll be better… This, I swear!"
A solemn vow left his lips as the paladin looked toward the beautiful sky, toward a brighter future that he would never again give up on.
((( 👁 )))
"On June the 6th, a great evil known as the Hangman attacked the heart of our holy Church, killing most of the priesthood using his wicked dark magic. Countless citizens were also tricked by the Hangman in the process, resulting in mass chaos across the capital.
"For his crimes, the Hangman has been declared as the Draco Empire's greatest nemesis. A bounty has been issued for the death or capture of this villain, and anyone having information about his whereabouts or power will be greatly rewarded."
—Emperor Alexander Audicux Dracowing's proclamationLast edited: Jan 26, 2026 Like ReplyReport Reactions:Seek212., Gajoti, Domar7431 and 194 othersquestionablequestionerOct 14, 2025Add bookmarkView discussionThreadmarks 1.1 Sanguine Greetings View contentquestionablequestionerextremely questionable isekai dealerOct 14, 2025Add bookmark#2< ACT 1 – Summer's Burning Passion >
- Crane, Thrall of the Bloodthirst Queen, Favorite of the Daughters -
Piss, shit, and countless other kinds of nastiness began to thin, much to his regret.
The boy paused, glancing back, as if awaiting a miracle. Yet, only sounds of sewage answered his plea.
That, and the chittering of rats.
Crane felt his blood run cold. The vast sewer seemed so small once you realized a simple truth: hundreds upon hundred of crimson eyes were always there, hidden within every shadow, watching, stalking you from afar.
Crane held onto his cloak. He was near. The lair was just ahead.
Far above, a thriving city basked under warm sunlight, blissfully unaware of the horror that had long polluted this sickening hellhole. The boy took a step forward. Instantly, sounds of flowing sewage ceased their flow. The sewer's stench dissipated into thin air, and a nauseating fragrance moved to invade one's senses from every direction.
Crane shook his head in a daze, but couldn't blink away the dreadful sight before him. At least a dozen bodies littered the bloody ground, broken and defeated. Most were missing a limb or two. All were alive—barely so. Their painful groans and moans echoed without end, and a calm mind might have questioned how such obvious noises escaped notice until now, if not for the heart-wrenching cries at the very center of this carnage.
Two young maidens, wearing naught but tattered clothes on their bodies, sobbed into one another's arms. A gloomy glow illuminated their youthful features. They looked young. Too young to be in this hell… This pitiful scene alone was more than enough to tug at one's heartstring, and any soul wandering down here would have no doubt rushed in to rescue these poor damsels in distress.
It was exactly what happened to the half dead adventurers lying on the ground, after all.
One of the girls shyly peeked at Crane through her bangs, and it didn't take long before the crocodile tears dried up, replaced by a nasty frown.
"Tsk, and here I thought we would get some more snacks. Hey, Ellen! Quit it already, it's just a dog returning to his masters!"
"Uuuu… But I'm just sooo hungry, Ellie… Mother is so cruel, hoarding the yummiest for herself, leaving us with naught but scraps… Maybe I should help myself a bit~"
Crane hurriedly sped past the two sisters as if his life was depending on it, though given the crunchy sounds of bones being munched on and flesh getting torn apart behind him… The boy shivered. There was no point dwelling on this.
All around him, the sewer seemed to warp, with mossy walls taken over by a pulsating substance that stretched as far as the eye could see. This fleshy pink, reeked of blood and gore, made Crane feel like he was walking into the maw of a ravenous beast, and the boy couldn't help but gulp nervously as a grand chamber finally came into view.
"Crane, you're back." A figure stepped out from the shadow, causing the boy to halt his step. "Judging by that look on your face… Our mistresses' hunt was a success, wasn't it?"
Raven sighed with a downcast expression. She was as young as Crane, yet so much scrawnier, to the point that a stray gust of wind alone might be able to knock her off her feet. The lone cloak covering her looked more rags than clothes at this point. The girl was skin and bones and full of bruises, though the resigned smile she gave him as he tried to offer her a piece of bread still hurt the most.
"You need to eat something, Raven. Any more of this and you might actually die."
"I'll die faster if I make myself even a little bit appetizing. You know that. We both know that."
Crane gritted his teeth. Crumpled pieces of bread fell from his hand while droplets of tears wetted the cursed grounds that made up this prison. Raven was right. Her birthday was just last week, and it was a miracle that she hadn't perished by now.
"'Sometimes in life, not having the gift of magic might not be so bad.' I used to resent my parents for telling me that. Now? Heh… They were right… I just wish I can tell them that myself, even if only for one last time…" Raven chuckled mirthlessly, before pointing at the foulness ahead. "You should go, Crane. You're their favorite—for whatever it's worth. Even if it can only buy you a few more months… it's best that you don't give our mistresses a reason to sink their fangs into your neck too early."
With that, Raven slunk back to the shadow. She sat on the ground, hugging both knees with her hands, gazing at nothing in particular—not unlike the emptiness in her eyes. Crane stared at Raven for a good while, before moving onward, into the belly of the beast.
((( 👁 )))
"Here's to another bountiful harvest! Cheers!"
"Ohoho, what's with that tattered outfit, sister dearest? Did the bunnies really get to you? Heh, as expected of a fledgling~"
"What was that?! I'm your elder, brat!"
"Ahh, food and drinks taste so much better when they are fresh. If only we can make this land our home. Getting to really know the local delicacies and all that."
"You say it, Sister! Maybe Mother will let us stay longer this time!"
The grand chamber, located deep within the sewer's darkest depth, felt like a completely different world. Gone were the stench and smell, or even the smallest speck of dust. Instead, sparkling marbles glimmered under a crimson glow, accompanied by wafting perfume that seemed to permeate the very air. Even the dwellers of this secret sanctum exuded an otherworldliness, for their inhuman beauty and lavish outfits might make one mistake them for the human nobles living so far above ground.
Yet, all it took was listening to the occupants' chilling banter, or looking at the gory meals they all relished in, to realize what kind of hell you had found yourself in…
"I need another drink. You. Boy. Get over here."
"N… No… Get away from m—"
Crane winced as a sickening crunch resounded before a shriveled body got tossed near him. The victim was clothed in fine silk, and the boy couldn't help but freeze up once his eyes registered who the unfortunate soul was.
Pigeon… What a rotten way to go…
The young scion looked withered beyond comprehension, as if his insides had been thoroughly gouged out, leaving only an empty husk behind. Crane stared at Pigeon's remains, at so many bite marks marring the once-defiant noble's neck, at the wide eyes and that gaping mouth, before forcing himself to look away.
Just a few more months and I'll end up like this as well…
Sounds of hurried footsteps jolted Crane out of his daze. Several boys and girls, wearing butler and maid outfits too big for their own size, hastily moved past him before hefting Pigeon up. Then, on an unspoken cue, they tossed the noble onto a huge pile in the corner, where countless other husks barely clung to life.
If Pigeon was lucky, the mistresses would let him expire, ending the torment for good. Though given the scion's noble blood, so rich in mana, Crane doubted Pigeon would be granted his sweet release anytime soon…
"Something's on your mind, little birdie~?"
A voice as sweet as honey entered his ears, causing Crane's hair to stand on end.
Summoning whatever ounce of willpower he had left, the boy forced his shaking limbs to stay still. Then, his lips moved, trying to sound louder than the thundering of his own heartbeat. Making any mistress wait already meant a punishment far worse than death, and wasting the time of one of their eldest? Crane could only shudder at the thought.
"Just pondering how I should announce our hunt's success, Lady Elliza. My tongue is not the most eloquent, and I fear it might dampen this festive mood…"
The vampiress tilted her head. Her elegant dress shifted slightly as a teasing smile bloomed on her porcelain face, and Crane almost felt mesmerized by her bewitching beauty—if not for what he heard next.
"Oh? What a shame. Should I pluck it out for you, then?"
The room grew cold, as if Crane's heart had gone still. It took everything he had to not bolt, to not flee from the giggling monster in front of him, especially when he knew that she was more than eager to carry out the "jest." With trembling lips, the boy shook his head, ignoring the cold sweat spreading across his body.
"… That… would not be ideal, my lady. I need my tongue to be a messenger for our most esteemed Queen, I fear."
Elliza raised a palm and giggled into it. A gloved hand—soft, fragrant, cold to the touch—rested upon his head, ruffling the boy's hair. The action should have felt reassuring, perhaps even a bit charming had Crane not known any better.
The mind slackened as his world began to spin. Survival instincts slowly ebbed away… leaving behind only a craving… for the mistress's affection…
"Why worry your pretty little head, birdie?" The soothing sensation turned into a sharp pain as his hair got pulled up. A pair of bloodred eyes looked down on him, cold and uncaring. "Why keep resisting? Haven't you seen where it got you?"
A violent jerk caused Crane's head to move to the side, toward where Pigeon's husk now lay motionless. His butler outfit, tattered and full of holes, was now being stripped away by a young boy captured from the recent raids.
With any luck, Pigeon's replacement might last longer than he did.
The thought snapped Crane out of his reverie as pure dread crashed down on him like a tidal wave. Seeing this, Elliza tutted, as if she was educating an unruly child.
"A shame, isn't it? The little pigeon could have such a good life, full of bliss and happiness. Yet, he chose to be stubborn. Hahhh… Why couldn't he be more like his parents?"
Off to the side, Crane could almost feel Pigeon wince at the reminder, and Crane's own eyes couldn't help but glance at the center of the room, where a sight most macabre was taking place.
With no clothes on their bodies and nary a thought in their minds, the "favored few" idled away in pure bliss. Men, women, and even a few children not much older than Crane… All were lazing around in a visceral pool of bloody gore, and amidst them, basking in everyone's love and adoration, was her…
Clad in the finest silk and most luxurious of dresses, the Bloodthirst Queen reigned over this nightmarish realm in all her splendor. Lying on a gigantic palanquin, the red monarch remained far and above her dirty subjects. Four porters ensured the mindless rabble could only dream of reaching her height while numerous attendants saw to her every need, and Crane could spot Pigeon's parents among the blissful faces.
A snap of the fingers resounded. A "favored" eagerly knelt in front of the Bloodthirst Queen, who smiled at him with rosy lips. Then, the mouth slowly widened, revealing monstrous fangs that glimmered in the dim light. Crane stared, both horrified and transfixed, as the monster's maws descended upon its willing prey. Blood sputtered messily, erasing any illusion of grandeur these monsters so loved to put on. Yet, the "favored" remained still, a look of pure ecstasy spreading across his face…
"Look at that," Elliza whispered, "don't you want the same bliss, free from any worries? An eternal life of happiness, serving your betters, being a part of something so much greater than you'll ever achieve~"
A splashing sound could be heard as the crimson queen threw away whatever remained of her meal, letting it drop into the pool of blood. Another "favored" was ushered up the palanquin, causing others to look on jealously. Meanwhile, the man from earlier floated up the gory pool, his husk of a body already showing signs of recovery, his withered face remained in complete bliss.
"All this joy, all this pleasure, can be yours." The honeyed words wormed their way into the boy's ears once more. "Just let yourself go. Let your heart and soul rest firmly in my embrace. Or… do you think you could survive, once your mana ripens and all my sisters sink their fangs into you?"
The reminder caused Crane to stiffen. Already, he could feel it. The way so many other monsters had been leering at him since he entered the room, as if they were sizing up a juicy piece of meat.
Just a few more months until my birthday… Just a few more months… until…
"A human child's 13th birthday, the most magical day of its entire life." Elliza licked her lips hungrily. "The day magic, this dying world's very lifeblood, can manifest fully… Ahhh… I can hardly wait to taste yours…" She leaned in closer, her icy breath tickling the boy's neck. "That slumbering sweetness in your veins… That nectar of life, just waiting to be cut open and sipped upon like fine wine~"
((( 👁 )))
Crane felt sick.
His stomach churned as countless dark thoughts threatened to swallow the mind whole. He wanted to run away. He wanted to go back to the orphanage, back to a time when life wasn't this living nightmare, back when he still remembered his own name…
Back when he wasn't a bird in a cage.
"Swear yourself to me, and all the suffering will come to an end. Mother will let me form my own family soon. You can be the first, nurturing my court. You can be my most favourite. Mine, and only mine!"
Elliza offered her hand. Her words hung in the air, cruel yet tempting. She was right. If her sisters had wasted no time reducing Pigeon to a husk, draining all his mana to the very last drop, then their urge to tear Crane apart would be far worse. At least, surrendering himself to the eldest daughter of this monstrous brood meant a chance at survival.
For a brief moment, the boy couldn't help but let himself be swayed by the vampiress's dark whispers.
Yet… be it his earnest desire to truly live, to truly be free… or simply his undying hatred for these bloodthirsty beasts… Crane continued to resist, his face trembling in a defiant scowl.
"How irritating." Elliza sighed, before flashing a wicked grin. "Insects that believe they're above the rest truly don't know when to quit, don't they?"
A clanking sound echoed as the vampiress pulled on something. Crane blinked in surprise, his eyes only now recognizing the chain in her hand. Another pull revealed a shackled old man, bloodied and beaten, who got violently dragged out from the darkness.
Elliza gently flicked her wrist. A seemingly effortless action, yet the monstrous force behind it easily had the chained prisoner come flying at her. Then, without even looking, the vampiress's hand gracefully moved into position, halting the crash with a loud thud and holding the old man's neck in a deadly grip.
"Do you see this, little birdie?" Crane flinched at the sheer disdain lacing the vampiress's tone. She gazed upon the wheezing captive in scrutiny, lifting him in the air, not unlike how a collector would evaluate some damaged goods. "This, right here, is what defiance will get you."
The boy swallowed hard, his eyes anywhere but the defeated adventurer's broken body.
This old man, a grizzled veteran whose fame had reached even the capital, a leader of a famous party that had vanquished evil far and wide… was just another false hope. His comrades had long ended up as bones and blood sacks, while he himself was now reduced to little but an amusement, similar to some exotic pet chained in a noble's palace.
The flickering flame in Crane's heart couldn't help but waver. If even someone so powerful would fall against this monstrosity, then… what hope did he have…?
"That's right~ Banish all the silly, rebellious thoughts in that little head of yours. Now close your eyes, and let our pact be sealed in earnest."
A cloudy fog took root in the boy's mind, one he no longer had the strength—or will—to resist. Crane felt his eyes growing heavy. The icy chill that he so dreaded made itself known once more, as if the scar on his neck had been torn open.
"The greedy pope has met his fate."
The chilling cold halted, and Crane couldn't help but look at the beaten adventurer in surprise.
"In his room, people found it… A bishop chess piece, and a small parchment with one simple word: Greed…" A mirthless chuckle resounded as the chamber went deathly quiet. "Last month, the pawn of lust got eradicated to the last. The knight of sloth and rook of pride were judged next. Just a week ago, the bishop of greed breathed his last. And now… Heh…"
The words echoed throughout the room. Crane shivered as countless pairs of bloodcrazed eyes stared in his direction. Yet, the old man pressed on, ignoring murderous gazes that promised nothing but death and despair.
"You all know it, don't you? The next on the list—queen of gluttony. Lo and behold, we have the very Bloodthirst Queen herself! That's why you lot have been on the run so often, isn't it? You know! You know, that the Hangman is coming for you all!!!"
A suffocating pressure weighed down the entire room as malice oozed out in waves. So thick, so terrible was the killing intent that Crane could almost taste it. His breath turned ragged while his limbs trembled uncontrollably, and a quick glance revealed that other thralls like himself had already fallen onto the ground, their mouth foaming.
"Coward."
The old adventurer, still dangling in the air, still choking under Elliza's tightened grip, uttered one simple word. He smirked at the vampiress who could snap his neck in half at any moment, and his grin only grew as she slammed him into the ground, causing blood and debris to fly everywhere.
Crane stared at the scene, his mind going blank.
Why?
Why anger them like this? For what purpose? Was this the suicidal bravery of an adventurer who knew his end was near? The last shred of pride that refused to be spat upon? Or, perhaps…
Crane looked at the old man's eyes and couldn't help but swallow his breath.
((( 👁 )))
Hope…
The adventurer's eyes were dim and desperate, yet still full of yearning. Crane had seen eyes like those before, whenever he looked at other children who shared his same fate, and even from his own reflection…
The realization felt simple, yet no less shocking. This adventurer wasn't trying to put on a brave face and spite his captors. Instead, he was shouting his hope aloud, for he himself wanted to believe it. He yearned for salvation, for a reason to keep fighting, keep clinging onto life.
"You… are all… cowards…" the old man wheezed out, heedless of the dark look on Elliza's face. "Preying on the weak… defenseless… Especially that mother of yours…" The more he talked, the more his breathing calmed, as if the strength of will was overcoming the crumbling flesh. "Queen Ellizabeth the Bloodthirsty, Last of the Ancient Terrors… Heh, and how did she manage to be the last, to survive for so long, even when her fellow Demon Kings and Queens were slain by the First Emperor, even when other summoned heroes culled the vampiric scourge? HAH!"
The answer was simple enough.
Crane knew. His fellow thralls knew. And their mistresses definitely knew.
The Bloodthirst Queen commanded a legion of daughters, yet never led in the front, fearing the hunter might become the hunted.
This vampiric monarch chose to hide in dark, dirty sewers, far away from the bright world above, far from any danger that might threaten her reign.
She littered her lair with countless traps and detections, exerting the mana she gorged on, so that the moment anything remotely dangerous came knocking, she would have been long gone.
Queen Ellizabeth the Bloodthirsty was a coward, and everyone knew it.
"Done yapping, filthy lapdog?"
If looks could kill, the old adventurer would have long perished. Elliza stared daggers at him, her eyes twitching deadly, the calm facade she loved to put on morphing into one of pure rage.
The Bloodthirst Queen herself might be livid at the damning words, but it was the eldest of her daughters that had become the very incarnation of scorn.
Time seemed to freeze as a stare-off commenced. On one side, a monster looked down on its prey, brandishing sharp fangs that thirsted for blood. On the other, a human stared up. His eyes refused to blink, to give in, even as the ground grew ever wetter from his bleeding body.
The old adventurer was willing to die for his belief. He was determined to deny these monsters their satisfaction.
Elliza raised her hand, elongated nails growing sharp enough to rend flesh asunder. Blood was on her mind, clear and obvious. Yet, the dark contempt slowly warped into another expression, once the vampiress's ear tilted at a small sound from the chamber's opening.
Crane gulped, seeing how the monster began to curl her lips into a cruel grin.
Long and sharp claws retracted themselves, leaving behind only delicate nails. The old adventurer furrowed his brows in confusion, though his face soon twisted with pain as Elliza stabbed a finger into his neck—right above the scar that marked him as a thrall.
The old wound opened. A small fountain of blood splattered into the air, one the vampiress didn't waste any drop. The crimson flow made its way into her maws as if it had a will of its own, and Elliza didn't stop drinking until the old adventurer became nothing but a husk of his former self.
A dull thud echoed as the old man dropped onto the ground, wheezing weakly. Yet, Crane couldn't tear his eyes away from Elliza, or the horror that was about to happen…
*BLEURGHHH*
Retching sounds clawed at his ears as a sight most horrific took place. An entire fountain of blood spew forth from the vampiress's gaping maws, soaking the ground red with its gory crimson. A mockery of life, indeed, for vermin soon burst from this nauseating puddle, and at their center revealed a lump of flesh that grew ever more blasphemous in form.
Crane's gut churned at the sight. Bearing witness to a vampire's birth always felt so sickening.
As Elliza continued to vomit more blood, her newborn slowly took shape. Dainty legs connected with a lithe body. Delicate arms grew ever more slender. Red dress, more liquid than fabric, formed from leftover gore… Crane couldn't help but stare, repulsed yet mesmerized, especially when he laid eyes upon the rosy lips and crimson orbs of a beauty so inhuman it felt impossible to look away.
"Arise, my child," Elliza commanded, wiping her mouth with a handkerchief. The newborn—who looked as young as Crane or any children trapped in this hell—blinked up at her progenitor before bowing in reverence.
"Mother," she said simply, "what's my name, my purpose?"
Elliza nodded, pleased with the answer, though her pleasant smile soon grew wicked.
"You shall be known as Elly, for you are of my brood. You, daughter of mine, will serve as my fangs and claws. I have bled for you, and you shall bleed for our Queen, just like all the sisters before you, just like I and my own sisters have. And now…" The vampiress paused, titling her head at the old adventurer. "… it's time you have your first meal, my child."
Crane shuddered at the words, only now realizing what Elliza's devilish scheme entailed. The old man, however, remained ignorant, snorting even as the newborn stared at him with a ravenous gaze.
"Is that it? Do you really think I'm afraid to die by your filthy fangs and stinking breaths, beast? HAH! Go ahead, then. Come closer, fledgling, and see if a monster like you can kill a monster hunter on his last leg."
"Don't flatter yourself, mutt," Elliza chided, her hand on the newborn's shoulder to stop the beast from lunging forward. "You're but meat and bones with nary a drop of blood, barely deserved to be feasted upon by rats. The two whelps you were guarding, however…"
Hearing this, the old man's eyes widened, his brave facade crumbling as the cries of children made themselves known.
((( 👁 )))
Crane winced as he looked toward the chamber's entrance. Sure enough, sounds of kicking came first, then the weak groans of Raven whose body had grown ever more battered, and finally, the main course of this terrible climax arrived.
A dozen vampiresses marched proudly into the room, surrounding one pair of twins with wide and frightened eyes from every angle. The girl whimpered, holding onto her brother's hand. The boy gritted his teeth, standing protectively in front of his sibling—much to their captors' amusement.
Despite using an artifact to teleport away from the ambush, these two couldn't escape the forest, it seemed. The twins' luxurious clothes now looked torn and dirty, not unlike their disheveled hair and muddied faces. The girl looked around in fear, and Crane could only turn away in shame as her gaze landed in his direction.
After all, he was the reason the ambush succeeded. He was the reason these twins got dragged to this hell…
"Mother, sisters, kindreds of mine, behold!" Elliza spoke up as the vampiresses herded their victims forward. "Your senses don't deceive you. These two esteemed guests—so young, so prime, so rich in mana and close to nature—have decided to grace our family with their presence. To think noble heirs of such high ranking would join our meal… Truly, fortune has smiled upon us this day! Everyone, let's give them a welcoming round of applause!"
As if on cue, the chamber erupted with sounds of clapping. The twins stumbled, eyes wide and alert. All around them were mocking laughter and hungry beasts brandishing smiles full of fangs.
"Of course, we can't forget to thank this young lady here." With unhurried steps, Elliza made her way toward the siblings alongside her daughter. "Yours is truly a kind heart, child. To stop your carriage for someone in need, unconscious and bloodied… To trust the word of a stranger you just saved, sending your guards away in search of survivors… To ignore the counsel of that mutt right there—who thought he knew better, who made his last stand so you and yours can escape—whose sacrifice is now meaningless~"
Elliza continued to twist the knife, heedless of the old adventurer's pleading scream and the young girl's sobbing hiccups. Crane watched on, helpless to do anything. Could he have disobeyed the monsters' order? Could he have washed his hands clean of this, of everything? He would have certainly perished, but at least he could die with a conscience clean…
Unconsciously, the boy took a step forward. He knew it was already too late, but he just couldn't—
The scar on Crane's neck bit painfully into his flesh, causing the boy to fall onto the ground as his body went limp. Crane looked up, glaring hatefully at Elliza. Even now, the vampiress continued to dangle the invisible chain that was put on him, back when she first marked him as a thrall.
"Ladies. Settle down, please." Elliza turned toward the hungering crowd, her voice light yet firm. "I know that you all want to personally attend to our guests. However, since their dear chaperone has shown such rudeness…"
The vampiress grinned at the begging adventurer, just to let him know whatever happened next was his and his fault alone.
"… I believe it's only fair that the masters be punished for their mutt's insolent barking. And, who can teach these guests a better lesson than our family's latest member, my young daughter, Elly."
Hearing her name, the newborn at Elliza's side screeched in excitement, causing Crane to cover his bleeding ears. She was hungry, ravenously so. Having been "born" not long ago, the young monster now thirsted for its first meal—its first victim. Worse yet, unlike the adults who had some self-restraint to not completely devour their food, especially ones so rich in mana, this fledgling beast wouldn't be able to hold back once it sank its fangs into a defenseless prey.
Crane glanced around in a panic, hoping that someone from the crowd might object. Unfortunately, while there were looks of envy or disappointment, it would appear the sadistic side of these monsters, wanting to see a defiant prey brought to the lowest point, had won out. Even the Bloodthirst Queen looked amused, her mouth too busy sucking on fawning thralls to even think of admonishing her eldest daughter.
"GO, RAYNE! RUN!!!"
Flames erupted from the boy as he shoved his sibling toward the entrance. Seeing this, the guards who first brought them to the chamber smirked, not caring even as a tornado of fire quickly took shape.
"Now, now. Don't you know table manners?"
Faster than the eye could blink, Elliza had already appeared in front of her prey, causing the noble boy to stumble back in surprise. With a swift stab, the vampiress's finger found itself embedded into the boy's chest, right where the heart might be. A second was all it took before the raging flame fizzled away, and a heartbeat later, her victim dropped onto the cold ground, alive but paralyzed.
Elliza turned, looking at the fleeing figure of the other sibling. She leisurely licked her finger still slick with blood. A beat, then two, before the noble girl fell flat on her face, as if sharing the same fate as her brother.
"Blood is a powerful bond," Elliza purred, moving to collect her bounty. "It's also a nasty conduit, binding silly twins who think they can be such rude guests… A little discipline is needed, it seems."
The vampiress kicked the noble girl in the gut, causing her to bounce gracelessly on the ground before smashing into her brother with a loud crash. Spectators watched on, laughing, pointing at the battered twins, especially once Elliza and her daughter towered over their sorry forms.
"Look on the bright side," the elder vampiress mused, sarcasm lacing her tone, "you came into this world as one, and now you get to leave it together. Rare is this blessing… Elly, time for you to give these two their final send-off."
Crane couldn't tear his gaze away as the newborn's mouth opened to reveal rows upon rows of monstrous fangs. The beast's true nature was laid bare, its disguise forgotten in favor of reveling in the horrified screams of its prey. Soon enough, razor-sharp blades descended like a guillotine, spilling blood everywhere and painting the ground red…
… Or, at least, that was what should have happened.
♩ ♪ ♫
Instead, the chamber grew still as a melodic tune echoed throughout the cavern. Everyone paused, even the newborn—whose fangs were mere inches away from soft flesh.
Dirt-brown tunic, faded trousers, a tattered cloak as well as one baggy sack fluttered up and down as a stranger made his way into the room with cheerful hops. A large straw hat obscured the man's face, though it was the pipe on his lip—played by masterful fingers—that had caught the crowd's attention.
Then, as sudden as it started, the music stopped, causing everyone to blink, as if being released from a trance.
"Oh, hello there!" the stranger piped up, filling in the ensuing silence. "Fancy party you folks have here. Care to let an uninvited visitor join in on the fun?"
((( 👁 )))
"And who are you supposed to be?" Elliza recovered quickly, fixing the newcomer with a glare. "You certainly didn't come through the main entrance, which means…"
The vampiress turned toward her mother, a silent question lingered in the air. Seconds passed as the Bloodthirst Queen stared at the visitor—whose smile began to fade upon looking at his surroundings—before she snorted in disinterest, waving a hand at her eldest.
With the confirmation, Elliza quickly changed her tune. Gone was the wary caution for something unknown. Instead, the vampiress now looked down on the stranger similar to how a predator would regard some harmless prey.
The tiny hope bubbling within Crane's heart immediately burst. This stranger wasn't someone with overwhelming might or extraordinary magic, judging by the Bloodthirst Queen's reaction. A small part of the boy wanted to believe that their visitor was hiding his strength or possessing some extraordinary treasure capable of feats unimagined… Yet, the realistic part of Crane, which had seen so many innocent folks being teleported straight into these monsters' maws, knew better.
The Bloodthirst Queen was the absolute ruler of her lair. She had food aplenty that whispered words of adoration to her ears. She had servants most capable that could see to her every need. She had powerful magic to whisk away the moment a potential threat invaded. She had created her own slice of paradise, safe, familiar, monotonous.
Someone trapped in the bubble that was everyday life would crave stimulation from time to time. However, a beast so powerful—so ancient—yet never dared marching outside its shell due to fear of a greater foe?
Well, it would certainly need to get creative.
Thus, scattered across the sewerage leading to this murderous lair were various special traps. If a dangerous intruder got near them, a signal would be sent, warning the vampiric occupants of possible threat. On the other hand, harmless prey wandering into the traps would get teleported directly near the heart of this den—where a fate worse than death awaited just to entertain the Bloodthirst Queen.
It seemed that the only reason these monsters didn't notice the stranger's arrival was due to how occupied they were with tormenting the noble twins. Sadly, now that their sadistic gazes were upon him, the stranger could no longer hope to escape…
"Well, uhm, this is awkward," the stranger chuckled nervously, a finger scratching his cheek. "I can leave if you want? Yeah, I think I should go. Goodbye!"
Before he could even get into a sprint, two vampiresses had already moved to block the chamber's entrance. They flashed him toothy smiles that were full of fangs, and the stranger was wise enough to turn back without any resistance.
"Theeen again, maybe you ladies are in need of my service? This sewer seems infested with problems of so many kinds, and I can help clean it all up for the cheap cheap, quality ensured!"
Elliza giggled into her hand, not unlike how a predator would lick its claws while toying with food. The desperate bid for survival had amused her enough to play along, it seemed.
"Oh? And what 'service' might you provide, hm~?"
"Rat catching, miss! The city above has quite a rodent infestation and, this might be me bragging here, but I'm pretty much the best ratcatcher so far! In fact, take a look at this."
Before the vampiress could interject, the stranger had already unslung his sack and dumped whatever within onto the floor. Sounds of chittering soon filled the chamber, and Crane couldn't help but blink at the sight of at least a dozen tiny beasts.
Reddish-brown rodents, with some looking almost bloodred in color, seemed to regard their surroundings for a moment, before turning toward their captor at once.
What happened next could only be described as absurd—perhaps even comical—as the rats rounded on the ratcatcher with threatening shrieks, causing the latter to back away while shooing them with his pipe. Crane had seen children play pretend before, waving wooden sticks around a rabid dog, as if they were knights fighting a retreat from some dangerous monster. That kind of image always made him laugh, if only for how pathetic it looked, and apparently the vampiresses felt the same, laughing and pointing at how pitiful their new entertainment was.
At least, until a melodic tune once again resounded.
♩ ♪ ♫
The rats froze. Red eyes and agitated limbs going still, as if the piping sound had triggered a command hidden deep within. Gone were their hatred and the desire for blood. The little beasts now looked like regular pests instead of the nasty spies and scouts they were created to be, which surprised the onlookers to no end.
Yet, it was what came next that truly shocked everyone in the room.
A discordant note heralded the new melody. Grating noises clawed at one's ears as the piper's performance became an affront to music everywhere. The effect was immediate. All the rats, once calm and peaceful, now hissed for blood of new prey. Crimson fur bristled while bloodred eyes looked around in a craze. Then, at last, their gazes landed solely on one another, and the bloodbath began.
"Tadaaa!" the ratcatcher preened, his proud smile contrasting sharply with the carnage right beneath his feet. "Pretty cool, don't you think?"
((( 👁 )))
The chamber once again grew quiet. An uneasy silence seemed to permeate the air, making one's hair stand on end. All eyes were upon the center of this brewing tension, who now stood nervously, fiddling with his thumbs.
"Uhm, so—"
Less than a fraction of a second. That was all it took for the room to explode into blurs.
Countless vampiresses surrounded the potential threat from all sides. Their most elite gathered around the Queen, safeguarding her while also priming themselves for an opportune strike. Yet, it was Elliza herself—second eldest of this den—who wrested back control of the situation.
"Try anything funny and you're dead."
The vampiress's voice was laced with cold fury, though a deep wariness now layered its tone. Her hand was firmly wrapped around the ratcatcher's neck, lifting him up in the air. Sharpened nails grazed vulnerable flesh, yet never cutting deep enough to draw blood, fearing a possible hex or countermeasure in place.
Crane shuffled toward the chamber's wall, where other children were gathering into a huddle.
Everyone could feel it. Something big, and terrible, was soon to start…
"Answer my question. How did you manage to control our blood-bounded familiars like that? There was no spell being cast. That pipe is no artifact, either. Speak. NOW!"
"Eck… I… It's thanks to my Gift!"
Elliza slightly relaxed her grip, sparing the man from choking on his own words. The response seemed to be intriguing enough that the vampiress was willing to hear him out.
"People say that I might have an elven heritage! Look! Just look at my face!"
Shaking his head frantically, the ratcatcher cast his straw hat aside, revealing what was hidden underneath. Sounds of gasps could be heard as onlookers stared, unable to tear their eyes away from the sight.
So… so pretty… Crane thought, knowing his crude description could never do justice to the man's looks. For a moment, all he could do was gawk. A quick glance revealed that other thralls, and even the vampiresses themselves, were also stunned speechless, their brains trying and failing to comprehend how someone so beautiful could even exist.
"See? You understand now, right?" the ratcatcher spoke up, breaking everyone out of their reverie. "My ancestor must have married an elf or something. Everyone knows that elves can command animals as easily as breathing. I must have inherited the same Gift!"
Elven heritage… Gift…
It sounded absurd, even to someone like Crane. After all, one could never dream of awakening the ancient magic of this world, the Gift their Goddess left behind, without possessing a vast pool of mana. Yet, these vampiric monsters—predators so well-versed in sniffing out a potential meal—didn't find the stranger that much different from any other dirty lowborn, whose talent for magic could only be described as "lacking."
But, if this man spoke true… If elven blood truly flowed through his veins…
Crane looked at the man's round ears, so obviously human's. Then again… He glanced at the noble twins sprawling on the ground. Even in defeat, their presence alone remained overwhelming—the undeniable proof of might and magic that earned them their privileges. He then looked back at the ratcatcher, at the unnatural beauty he possessed that might have been inherited from elven descent.
The entire thing still didn't feel right, though Crane couldn't help but admit that it sounded plausible. After all, many a half blood was said to be unordinary, and if someone possessing diluted blood still managed to manifest a unique trait? Who could truly tell if it would be impossible or not.
The vampiresses must have thought the same, for their wary eyes soon turned ravenous.
Elves and dwarves were feared and renowned, capable of magical feats that other races could only dream of. This was all thanks to their Gift—their way of tapping into ancient magic itself. Thus, to vampires, anyone possessing a Gift would make for a meal most mouthwatering. And now, someone like that had delivered himself right to their doorstep.
The ratcatcher swallowed hard, perhaps only now realizing his own blunder.
"Uh… So… Does this mean I'm not off the menu…?"
All pretense of restraints and civility vanished at once. Numerous bloodthirsty monsters licked their lips in hunger, and even Elliza herself couldn't stop the drool from overflowing. Her nails bit sharply into the ratcatcher's neck, and the lack of resistance only excited the vampiress further. Here was a meal most prime, yet utterly lacking any power that might pose a threat. Such a thought seemed to drive the beast mad with sadistic glee, even forgetting that her own mother should get the lion's share of this unexpected bounty.
"Wait! If I'm to perish this day, then please hear out my last wish first!"
The man screamed in desperation, just as Elliza was about to open her maws wide for a feast.
"I… Well…" he stalled, looking left and right for any way out. Soon however, resignation colored the man's face. "A ratcatcher's life is one without any glory, any recognition…" He clutched his chest as if in pain, though his eyes also blazed with firm resolution. "If I'm truly to perish this day, then at least let me lay down my life to nourish the great queen herself, so that I can know my meager existence finally amounts to something. Please! I beg of you!!!"
Elliza and her sisters paused, as if only now remembering their "esteemed" Queen. Insatiable thirst warred against shaking fidelity, before all vampiresses clutched their heads in pain as a regal voice echoed.
"Well said, young one," the Bloodthirst Queen spoke up, gracing all with her words for the first time since forever. This ratcatcher was too good a meal to waste on her daughters, it seemed. "Peons need to respect their betters, and the weak best understand their position. Very well, I grant you audience. Come forth, and I shall release you from your mortal coil."
The man hastily pried himself off Elliza's clutch—who could only glare at her mother while nursing a throbbing headache. Other vampiresses tried to block the ratcatcher or even lunged at him for a bite, though a single gaze from the Bloodthirst Queen in their direction was enough for hordes of them to fall onto the ground, reeling in pain.
So much for undying loyalty, Crane couldn't help but snort with a bit of dark amusement, though he soon tensed. This feeling… What's going on…? the boy wondered.
The ratcatcher jumped up the palanquin, swiftly avoiding jealous hands from the "favored" thralls swimming in the blood pool underneath. The Bloodthirst Queen had also vacated all her usual attendants and bodyguards, fearing they might steal a meal only fit for the monarch.
Crane watched on, his heart beating loudly. The boy could feel it. He could sense something these monsters hadn't noticed. The air was thick with a tension only he and those long trapped in this hell could recognize.
This feeling… Was it… hope?