When the masked man heard her insult, his ego was shattered. It appeared that she had struck a nerve. Instantly, he was consumed by fury. He slapped her in the face again, this time putting all his strength into it. But he didn’t stop there. Rising to his feet, he delivered a vicious kick to her abdomen. He continued to skrike, unleashing all his wrath upon her fragile body.

“What did you just say, you b*tch?!” he screamed as he kept hitting her. Yet, no matter what he did, the woman remained impassive, already used to this kind of treatment. “Tiny? Let's see if you’re going to say that after I’m done with you.”

The woman silently watched as the man turned his back on her, undressing and putting his clothes on a chair while throwing curses her way without pause. Fully consumed by his rage, he didn’t notice as he dropped his knife on the ground in front of her.

Seeing the opportunity, she instantly lunged for the knife, grabbing the handle and allowing gravity to unsheathe it. Despite her weakened state, she let her wrath take control of her, granting her the necessary strength to propel herself toward the unsuspecting man, even as her legs trembled.

“Ah!” she screamed, hurtling towards the masked man as he pivoted towards her upon hearing her voice. His hand managed to deflect the knife coming his way, but her momentum knocked him forward into the wall. His head collided directly with the stone, breaking his neck and killing him instantly.

Consumed by her rage, she straddled herself atop his lifeless body and stabbed him repeatedly as tears finally streamed down her face, seeming to fall endlessly. She hadn’t realized she still had the capacity to cry, but upon seeing an opportunity to exact her vengeance, it reignited a fire within her, unleashing all her pent-up rage at them for what they had done to her—the cruelty inflicted upon her innocent children, who only saw the beauty in everything, and the unfairness of the world for allowing such barbarity to happen.

Blood and flesh rained everywhere, drenching her in the gruesome aftermath. She appeared like a demon of the abyss, clawing her way out of hell to unleash terror upon the mortal realm. It remained a mystery where she found the energy to tear the man to pieces, quite literally.

Like all burning flames, her rage had inevitably consumed all its fuel. Yet, in its intensity, it burned gloriously, fulfilling a wish that had once seemed impossible. Despite her powerlessness, it felt like a triumphant victory to finally drag one of her tormentors into the abyss and witness him meet his deserved end.

Staring at the knife in her hands, the woman’s eyes gleamed as if witnessing her salvation manifested in steel. Its sharp tips could easily pierce her chest, bringing an end to their suffering instantly and granting her the respite she had always longed for. Though it lay within her grasp, she remained motionless, unable to bring herself to do what needed to be done.

Tears began to stream from her eyes again, not from fury or rage but from sheer misery. Confronted with a harsh truth about herself that she had not previously recognized, she was afraid—afraid of her own demise, of death’s sweet embrace. She didn’t understand what was happening to her with this sudden shift. She felt as if it was a betrayal to her family—their deaths, confusion, and guilt all mixed into one.

‘What am I doing? W-Why am I hesitating? Didn’t I already try to kill myself a couple of times? Now that it’s in front of me and within my grasp, why can’t I end it all?

Why? Why?! Why?!!’

The anger against herself, and the determination to end her life, were met only with trembling hands. It seemed that the moment she killed the masked man, pouring all her anguish and wrath into the act, it drained her of the very rage that made her feel numb and superhuman. Perhaps it was only temporary, a fleeting moment in a long line of memories, but it was enough to shatter her already fragile mind. All the torture and horror she endured did not bring her to this state; rather, it was seeing the reflection of herself—her refusal to end her life in that briefest of moments, and the shame that followed it—that had driven her to the highest point of her misery.

As if awoken from a long dream, she had turned into just an ordinary, powerless, and confused woman. Though still a child of wrath, it was now clear that she was also born from the womb of guilt—a tragic combination, with her fear of mortality serving as clear evidence of her shame. Staring at the sharp tip of the knife, so close to her eyes, her hands trembled but refused to move any closer. It was a sight to behold, yet still a tragedy.

“You’re right. It worked,” a masked man remarked, emerging from the shadow of the woman, followed by another. They wore similar attire and masks, resembling the one who recently died. The only distinguishing features between them were their height and voice—the first one was much shorter by a third and sounded older, carrying more authority.

As before, it seemed that this was orchestrated from the start, a bizarre and cruel game of theirs. Even the death of one of their own was planned, but for what purpose? Who could ever know? The cruelty of all this, however, was beyond question.

The woman did not react to the appearance of the two men. She appeared oblivious to their presence, lost in her own world. Perched upon the remains of the man she had just slain, she sat motionless, resembling a statue with her unblinking gaze. In that moment, she was consumed by the weight of her own thoughts, grappling with harsh reality and shame, fearing her inevitable end.

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“It seems it did,” the taller man agreed, kneeling in front of the woman as he lifted her chin, studying her shocked eyes as if she were a specimen in some long-awaited experiment that had finally come to fruition. “His Holiness would be extremely pleased that we have come this close to achieving inoculation.”

“This is your idea and your project,” the older man said, nodding his head proudly at the other man. “I’ll ensure that His Excellency rewards you for this great achievement.”

His eyes widened at the words of his superior, and the kneeling man swiftly rose, bowing respectfully. “I am indebted to your patronage, High Priest. Without it, this would not have been possible.”

“Good. Very good,” he said approvingly. “Hopefully, you won’t forget what I’ve done for you.”

“Never.”

“Bring her to the inoculation chamber so that we can begin,” the High Priest instructed, his form melting into the shadows until he vanished completely.

The man glanced at the woman, observing her for a moment before sighing. “It seems we’re back at the very beginning, my dear,” he said, taking the knife from her before pulling her by the leash.

‘His… His voice sounds familiar. It seems like I’m hearing things. I must be losing my mind already.’

As if trained, she obediently allowed herself to be dragged on all fours as her mind retreated to its deepest corners. Unlike previous occasions, she wasn’t led to the room adjacent to her cage. Instead, they ventured much farther and deeper, exiting the facility altogether. Upon closer inspection, there was no sky above. It seemed this expansive area was nestled within a colossal mountain or buried beneath the ground. Regardless of the location, it was undeniable that the area was vast, especially as they entered the largest building of all, constructed from obsidian and adorned with precious gems ranging from ruby to topaz—all resembling the color of blood.

Along the way, they encountered numerous individuals, all clad in identical attire and masks, engaged in various mundane tasks—from filing papers to delivering food. Each one bowed reverently to the man leading her, seemingly oblivious to her presence, as though she were invisible. The disturbing manner in which she was treated like a mere dog on a leash appeared to be accepted without question as if it were the norm. This brief encounter just served to confirm that this was truly a vile group of people, without exception.

Even amidst the crowd and in a new environment, the woman remained indifferent, though her surroundings might offer clues to the reason for her cruel fate. It appeared she had little interest in seeking the answer to why she was there. Her once unbreakable will now seemed to be faltering, on the verge of fracturing completely.

As they ventured deeper inside, they arrived at a room guarded by four fully armored men. This wasn’t just any ordinary black armor; the material seemed to exude an ominous aura, amplified by the ruby eyes embedded in the helmets, instilling deep fear in anyone who dared to stare at it. Undoubtedly, these were formidable warriors. It was the first time in this place that she encountered individuals not wearing the usual robes and masks. Not only were their attires different, but they also showed no deference to the man, unlike the others encountered thus far.

Though terrifying, the armored men stood motionless like statues, allowing them to pass through easily. Inside the room, there was nothing but a huge wooden box in the center, large enough to accommodate ten people. It appeared to be some sort of device. They entered it as the box closed around them. Suddenly, mysterious red gems on the walls illuminated with glyphs at the center, providing them with light.

They descended to the ground for quite some time, approximately five minutes. It was evident that this descent was substantial, indicating considerable depth. The ability to achieve such a feat was undeniably impressive, a testament to the power and wealth of the organization behind it.

As soon as the wooden box stopped moving, the door opened, and they exited the strange device into a circular room. The first thing anyone would notice upon entering, aside from the gigantic dome, was how white it was, seemingly made from unblemished marble. It was surreal. This was a complete contrast to the common theme of this place—black and red.

The floor, still made of white marble, no longer commanded attention, overshadowed by the presence of dangerous-looking black gems. These gems, coupled with the ominous red ones adorning the eyes of the guards seen earlier, formed intricate rune combinations, resulting in strange-looking glyphs. The complexity of the entire formation hinted at an advanced level that might even reach that of a sigil.

In each of these glyphs, naked men and women stood atop them. None of them had any hair on their bodies, not even eyebrows or eyelashes. They stood facing the center of the room, chanting some strange mantra in a language only they could comprehend. Yet there was palpable power vibrating around each word they spoke.

At the center of the room floated a rectangular stone made of black obsidian, similar to the material used in the construction of the building, though notably darker. Every inch of its surface was adorned with crimson runes; even though they glowed dimly, they radiated immense power that could be felt across the room.

The man strode straight to the center, pulling the leash on the woman. There, he met with the High Priest from earlier along with four others in the same position. Among them, the most odd and out of place was a very old man, his face etched with deep wrinkles, wearing a pure white robe without any mask. His countenance resembled that of a gentle and kind grandfather, watching over his grandchildren. Though kind and seemed powerless, it couldn’t be denied that his presence alone filled the huge room, as if his every move was that of a god, made flesh, descending to the mortal realm.

“Your Holiness, it is an honor to be in your presence,” the man immediately kneeled, bowing his head before the old man in reverence.

“Ah, you must be the one who thought of this,” he said, ruffling his head as a father would. “You’ve made such a significant contribution to the Umbral Sanguinaries, my son. May our Lord bless you.”

“It’s my great honor to serve the Great Cult, Your Holiness,” the man responded with elation in his voice.

“Shall we start?” the grandfatherly man remarked, a tender smile spreading across his face as he turned his attention to the woman.