As the High Priests pulled her up and stripped her naked, the grandfatherly man slowly approached closer, his hands reaching out to gently caress her cheeks. “Ah, such a beautiful girl,” he muttered, desire flickering in his eyes. He licked his lips before sighing in regret. “Shame to see you go. Well, at least your pathetic life will serve a greater purpose. So, don’t be heartbroken, my child. You will be an instrument that will bring our god down to the mortal realm. Be proud of yourself; it will be the greatest honor in all of Creation.”

Glancing at his men, who were watching him closely, he offered them a smile that, for a moment, seemed almost tender and kind enough to soften even the hardest of hearts. “Take her, my children,” he said softly, his voice carrying a sense of purpose and authority. “ Let her sacrifice be the catalyst for our dream, drenching this world in blood and darkness that will usher forth an age of horror and strife. May the screams of the unbelievers pierce the moonless night with crimson, while the howls of the chosen hunt them into oblivion.”

“We obey, Patriarch,” the High Priests responded in unison, their voices echoing through the chamber. Without hesitation, they immediately followed his order, lifting the woman and placing her on the floating obsidian platform. She immediately convulsed as the runes on the surface reacted to her presence.

“Hold her down!” one of the High Priests exclaimed as the dimly glowing runes suddenly intensified, causing her skin to sizzle. Once her body had calmed, adjusting to the strange device, they proceeded to strap her limbs onto the corners of the rectangular slab, leaving her sprawled on all fours. With her securely bound, they stepped back, forming a circle around the woman.

“Begin,” the Patriarch ordered, as the High Priest started chanting in unison with the naked men and women surrounding them. The obsidian slab slowly tilted upward until the woman’s position became inverted.

Despite what had happened, she remained indifferent, having completely given up on everything. However, this did not last long. As the chanting continued, the runes, not only on the obsidian but also those on the ground, being stepped on by their naked members, began to brighten. This sudden brightness was accompanied by the sizzling of their skin as if burned, yet they suffered no visible injuries. Despite their contorted faces in pain, they continued chanting their mantra without missing a beat.

‘Huh?’

As if awoken from a long slumber, the woman looked around, her face contorting in a grimace of pain radiating from her back. Despite having grown accustomed to the unimaginable physical torment inflicted upon her, this time it was different. This didn’t just sear her skin; it pierced her soul itself—an agony beyond what any ordinary mortal could endure. At that moment, all she could do was grit her teeth, her gaze sweeping over the people surrounding her.

‘What in the abyss are they doing? Could it be… Are they finally putting an end to my suffering?’

Tears suddenly swelled in the eyes of the woman, as if salvation had finally come down to grant her respite. The inability to end her life earlier had shattered her, so this ending was the only thing she had hoped for.

“She seems to have regained her senses. Good, good,” the Patriarch remarked, nodding his head in approval before turning to the man who had guided the woman earlier. “Why don’t you start as well?”

“As you command, Your Holiness,” he responded, bowing respectfully before stepping in front of the woman. Quietly, he stood there for a moment, observing her.

‘Why… Why is he just standing there, staring at me?’

“Hello, Medea,” the man said, removing his mask. “Have you missed me?”

‘No… No, this can’t be.’

“J-Jason,” Medea slowly uttered, shaking her head in disbelief. She was shocked to see her husband, whom she had thought dead, standing in front of her. “No… No, no! You’re messing with me. Jason is dead. He’s dead. He died along with my children.”

‘Yes. This… This isn’t true. They’re trying to trick me again. Make me suffer. This is what they’re good at. I won’t fall for it. I won’t. Never!’

“I’m real, Medea,” Jason confessed, his sigh heavy with the weight of honesty. “Remember when we first met behind your father’s house? Under that big tree? I was thirteen, you were twelve,” he murmured, staring at her softly with a hint of nostalgia as a sad smile crept across his lips, recalling a distant memory. “You told me my dimples were cute. And then you asked me to take you to the dance.”

‘How did…

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

Jason and I should be the only ones who knew about that information. So, how?’

“No, you’re lying,” Medea responded, shaking her head in disbelief. Even though the truth was in front of her, she refused to believe it. After all they had subjected her to, who could blame her? However, it’s not beyond reason that such a rich and powerful organization could easily stage this. “I will never believe your lies!”

‘Yes, they might have tortured Jason to get that information from him.

They could’ve done that. But… But he was with me all that time. They never separated us. Those b*stard killed him in front of me! They didn’t have time to extract that information from him. So… So how could they have known?’

“Y-You,” Medea muttered, the realization slowly sinking into her mind about what that wretched man had declared might be true. Instead of rage, her eyes suddenly widened as hope bloomed in her heart.

‘If he’s alive, does that mean my children are alive as well?

Yes. Yes, they could be. They’re alive.’

“Does that mean that Marcus and Livia are alive too?” she quickly asked, her face lightening up as her pain suddenly vanished. “Are they with you? Please, just tell me! I’ll do whatever you need; just reassure me they’re alive and safe,” she begged, directing her desperation toward her husband. “Please, please…”

Jason didn’t immediately respond to her plea. Instead, he approached her, gently wiping the tears from her eyes and affectionately caressing her face. “I’m sorry, my love,” he whispered softly. “They are gone.”

‘No… no. No!’

“You’re lying!” she screamed, spittle flying in all directions, even landing on her husband’s face. Refusing to accept his words, she felt the hope that had lifted her emotions slowly dissipate. “I won’t believe it. You’re just trying to hurt me like all of you have been doing. For your diabolical rituals. I know they’re alive. They are!” she exclaimed, shaking her head before erupting into hysterical laughter as if teetering on the edge of madness. But when she saw her husband simply exhaling deeply while looking at her with sorrow and pity on his face, tears began to well in her eyes as the truth finally sank in.

“You adored Livia, Jason. The way you looked at her when she was born, it was a sight to behold,” Medea said, her voice filled with betrayal and pain even greater than the intensifying agony—the searing of her soul—she was subjected to. “Both you and Marcus protected her like no other. You wouldn’t even let a mosquito…” she paused for a moment, closing her eyes as the unbearable pain of betrayal washed over her, while he continued to gently caress her face. Opening her eyes, tears started to stream down her forehead to her hair, flooding the floor with her anguish; some of it even went to his arms, soaking his robes. “You love her, Jason. You loved her.”

“You’re right. I loved her,” Jason agreed, nodding solemnly. “I still do. And forever will,” he stated, placing his other hand over his chest. “She will stay in my heart forever.”

“Then why?!” Medea screamed with all she had, her eyes and voice full of spite. “Why did you kill her?! Why?!! Why did you kill our children?!!!”

“Because sacrifices must be made, my love,” Jason responded as if this reason was enough to justify the cruelty and barbarity he had committed. “This must be done for the greater good of all of Creation. When our true god descends, our salvation…”

“Salvation. Salvation?!” Medea screamed, spitting at the face of her husband. “You f*cking fanatic! You lunatic!”

As his wife continued to hurl curses at him, Jason shook his head in resignation. “I know you wouldn’t understand,” he said, stepping back from her. “It's okay. Our God has a greater plan for you. You will be the catalyst that ushers in a new era—the dawn of blood and darkness… of death and strife. So, rejoice, my love. Your life will finally have meaning.”

“I’ll never forgive you! I curse you, all of you!” she shrieked as her husband continued with his sermon. “I’m going to kill you all!”

The chanting of those around them grew faster and louder as the brightness of the runes intensified. Suddenly, one of the naked members let out a death cry as he transformed into blood, absorbed by the runes beneath his feet. This was followed by another, and then another, as the rate of death increased at an alarming pace. However, the chanting never ceased; if anything, it grew louder and clearer, as if they had already accepted their fate.

After all of the believers had died, the High Priests raised their hands towards the obsidian, continuing their chanting as they released their aura to its limit. Under their feet, their domain formed; their glyphs connected to form an even larger domain.

“I believe it is now time, my child,” the Patriarch stated, his expression unchanged—gentle and kind as ever.

Glancing at the leader of the Umbral Sanguinaries, Jason bowed respectfully before taking out the knife that Medea used earlier to kill. Stepping closer to his wife, who continued to curse him non-stop, consumed by rage like a rabid dog, he spoke softly, “I’m sorry. But I know in time you’ll understand.” With that, he stabbed the knife into his wife’s heart.

“No matter what it takes. Even if you kill me, I will crawl out of the abyss with my bare hands, and I’ll make you all pay for what you did to my children!” Medea shrieked louder than ever. Instead of succumbing to death, she was filled with more vigor than ever before, her madness slowly consuming her.

The connected domain of the High Priest grew larger as it seeped into the runes, where the believers had previously died, transforming into a gigantic and complex glyph, forming a nearly completed sigil. As this occurred, the runes on the obsidian platform moved into Medea’s body as if alive, devouring her.

At that very moment, the indomitable, enduring soul of Medea finally broke—shattering into pieces, only to reshape into an amalgamation of a creature fueled by hate and spite.

Suddenly, the blood, previously absorbed by the runes, surged upward, staining the space above it and the once pristine white dome in crimson hues. Slowly, it gathered at the center of the room, forming a large egg, hovering atop the obsidian platform.

“Rejoice, my children, for the rise of the Umbrals is nigh!” the Patriarch exclaimed, staring at the gigantic crimson egg emitting an ominous black aura. “Such beauty. With that thing under my control, I’ll be a god, made flesh,” he whispered, overcome by greed. He laughed loudly, abandoning his facade of a kind and gentle grandfather while his eyes were brimming with desire and avarice.

“I curse! I curse you all! My spite and wrath will not be quenched until…” Medea shrieked, her voice choked by the relentless surge of black and crimson runes engulfing her head like an unstoppable tide. They invaded her mouth as she continued to ramble in her deathly cry. Her body flared with dark and carmine light, followed by silence, transforming her into blood like the others before her. Instead of ascending to merge with the gigantic egg, she seeped into the knife, becoming one with it.

With the woman’s scream silenced, the room descended eerily silent, every eye fixed on the knife as it plummeted downward, piercing the ground with a resounding twang.