At a safe distance from the fray, the Countess stood frozen for a moment, her wide eyes fixed on the clustered tunnel entrance. Inside, the echoes of steel and shrieking voices clashed with the guttural roars of the Boss Monster. Angelo, Mr. Kaito, and the remaining Knights fought with frantic desperation, their line buckling under the sheer weight of the beast's strength.
Behind her, the roar of another tide swelled. Dozens of terrified civilians surged like a panicked wave, slamming against one another, desperate to reach the fortified iron door that served as the entrance to the safe house. The sound of their fear—screams, sobs, the trampling of boots—rattled her bones.
The Knights had been many at first. Now, they fell one by one, dismantled like fragile dolls. Angelo's sword flashed again and again, his voice breaking through the clamor. "Hold the line! Don't let it through!" His words carried more desperation than authority. His eyes betrayed him. He was still reeling, horrified by the truth—that the monstrosity they fought was his former commander, his boss.
Mr. Kaito darted forward with his spear, his movements sharp but ragged, each thrust little more than a distraction. He ducked a sweeping claw that shattered the tunnel wall beside him, spraying stone fragments into his face. He knew he was barely scratching the monster, but to stand idle while his companions bled was unthinkable.
The Countess clutched the edge of her dress, her knuckles white. It broke through the barrier as if it were nothing. We can barely delay it, let alone kill it… Her lips trembled. The civilians' shrieks pulled her back, snapping her into command. She spun on her heel.
"Maintain order!" she screamed at the guards still holding the flow. "Do not let them trample each other! Slow the push or more will die!"
But the panic was too thick. Men and women clawed through the tunnel, dragging children, shoving neighbors aside. She caught sight of two civilians falling beneath the mob. Their screams were swallowed by the crush. She wanted to run to them, but the fight in the tunnel ripped her attention back.
The Boss Monster roared—a sound that rattled the stone itself. Its clawed arm swept wide, swatting three armored Knights like they were insects. Their bodies cracked against the tunnel wall, lifeless before they hit the ground. Blood ran down the stone.
Mr. Kaito lunged again, teeth bared, but the monster's massive hand caught him mid-strike. There was a sickening crack as he was hurled against the wall. His head slammed stone with such force that he slumped instantly, his spear falling from nerveless fingers.
"Kaito!" the Countess's voice broke, raw with terror.
The monster raised its colossal foot above his limp form. The Countess's breath seized—No, not like this!
Angelo moved like lightning. With a guttural roar, he threw himself into the path, scooping Kaito's body up in his arms and rolling just as the monster's foot came crashing down. The ground shook, splitting stone beneath its weight.
"Aim for the legs!" the Countess cried out, her voice cracking under strain. "Bring it down! Cut it apart!"
The few Knights still standing obeyed, rallying with hoarse war cries. Spears jabbed at the beast's knees, blades hacked at its ankles, but it barely staggered. The ones who had been guarding the civilians abandoned their posts to reinforce the dying line, leaving the panicked crowd unchecked.
The Countess's eyes darted wildly, trying to find order in the chaos. Everywhere was carnage: armored men crushed, their screams mingling with the wails of the helpless. She tasted bile in her throat.
Angelo stumbled toward her, Kaito draped limply over his shoulder. His blade still gleamed in his other hand, but his face was ashen, his body trembling from exhaustion. Sweat and grime ran down his cheeks like war paint. "My lady," he gasped, "we need to move…now!"
She nodded, though her throat burned with unshed screams. Together they backed toward the fortified door, the shrieks of dying Knights echoing like funeral bells behind them.
At the door, Eryndor was wrestling civilians through the iron threshold, his voice raw from shouting. "One at a time! Push like that and you'll kill each other!" But his commands fell on deaf ears. Fear had deafened them all. The two Knights at his side tried to force order, but their arms were nearly torn from their sockets as they tried to restrain the stampede.
When Eryndor saw the Countess, he pushed his way through the last of the crowd, face pale and lined with dread. "Where is Lucian?!" His voice shook with a desperate edge that stripped away his usual calm.
"This is not the time!" the Countess snapped, her voice raw, pointing back toward the tunnel. "The monster is coming! The Knights are buying us seconds, nothing more!"
Eryndor's eyes widened. "Then we—"
A thunderous sound cut him off. Heavy, deliberate. A rhythm that silenced even the panic. Thump. Thump. Thump. Each step grew louder, closer, rattling the very stone beneath their boots.
They turned their heads as one, staring into the tunnel's mouth.
The Boss Monster lumbered into full view, its massive form blotting out the last of the tunnel light. With a sweep of its colossal arm, it swatted aside the remaining Knights as if they were no more than buzzing insects. Their cries ended in bone-snapping silence against the stone.
Angelo's eyes widened. He saw the truth in that instant. It is over. His blade slipped in his hand, then steadied as he made his choice. He laid Kaito's limp body on the ground and shouted hoarsely toward the Countess, "My lady! Save yourself!"
"No!" The Countess's voice tore through the chaos, raw with anguish. "Angelo, wait—!"
But Angelo had already turned back to face the beast.
Eryndor, unflinching even in the face of doom, stooped and scooped Kaito's unconscious body with practiced ease. His face betrayed no hesitation. His actions were clean, efficient, almost merciless.
The Boss Monster loomed over Angelo, its shadow stretching like a shroud. It stopped for the briefest of moments, lowering its monstrous head, and roared into Angelo's face. The sound shook the very marrow in his bones.
Angelo staggered, but his voice cut through the roar, broken yet defiant. "Boss!" It was not a battle cry, but a word drenched in pain, recognition, and the grief of his mistake.
At the door, Eryndor reached the threshold. He gently laid Kaito down beside the entry and snapped his head toward the last two Knights still holding the crowd at bay. His command was sharp, carrying no doubt. "Shut the door! Now!"
The Countess whirled on him, horror flashing across her features. "No! We cannot leave him!" Her voice cracked, desperation spilling through every word.
Angelo's clash with the monster rang out behind them. He met its charge with every ounce of strength left in him, his sword striking with desperate intensity. This is my sin to bear, he thought as his arms screamed with effort. If this is the price of my betrayal, then let it fall on me alone.
But the monster's strength was not human. It was pure, crushing force, unbending, unrelenting. Angelo's defenses shattered like brittle glass. The creature seized him, slamming him into the ground, bones snapping under the weight. His screams echoed through the tunnel, a sound of agony and guilt entwined.
"Why shouldn't we close the door?!" Eryndor roared back at the Countess, his usually composed tone sharpened to steel. He turned to the Knights, ordering again, voice like a whip, "Close it!"
The Knights obeyed, heaving at the iron slab. The door groaned and began its slow, grinding descent.
The Countess froze, torn in two by the sight and the sound. Her face twisted with desperation, with grief, but she said nothing more. She ran, darting through the narrowing gap before the door sealed shut.
Eryndor did not call after her. He only watched with grim understanding. She will never stand aside while one of hers dies.
On the other side, the Countess's eyes fell instantly on Angelo. Her breath caught, her heart seizing in her chest. He was broken, pinned beneath the monster's crushing hold. His sword lay abandoned, his arm and leg twisted grotesquely, useless. His cries were raw, torn from him in agony.
"STOPP!" the Countess screamed, her voice cracking as she threw her hands out, desperate to save the one man who had always served her without question.
The monster's gaze shifted. Its grotesque features twisted in cruel amusement as it lifted Angelo by the remains of his wear and hurled him like a ragdoll. His body slammed into the Countess, driving her into the nearly shut iron door. The impact rang out with a deafening clang. Her head struck metal with a sickening crack. Pain exploded, blood streaking the back of her hair as she slid to the floor, Angelo's limp form collapsing across her lap.
The Boss Monster bellowed in triumph, its roar shaking the stone. It lowered its massive body, charging at the door that now stood fully closed. Its colossal hand rose, a mountain of flesh and claw ready to smash through.
The Countess tried to rise, but her limbs betrayed her, trembling. Blood blurred her vision. She clutched at Angelo, her voice feeble yet desperate. "Angelo… get up… please…"
She shut her eyes as the monster's crushing hand fell—
But the strike never landed.
The Countess opened her eyes, confused by the silence.
There, between her and certain death, stood a lone figure. With a single hand, he held back the monster's descending strike. The sight was impossible. The creature's power shook the ground itself, yet it could not move forward an inch.
The figure's aura radiated outward, cold and suffocating, pressing into her very soul. It was a dark, terrifying energy that made her body tremble uncontrollably.
The stone beneath the monster's foot cracked and split from the sheer force of the resistance.
She blinked through the haze of blood and pain and saw him clearly for the first time. His clothing was pristine — an elegant, fitted butler's uniform that seemed almost absurdly out of place in the carnage. Gold rings gleamed faintly on his hand, catching the blue crystal with aristocratic arrogance. His black hair framed a face too composed, too casual, for the slaughter that stained the air.
The man spoke, his voice smooth as silk, carrying the lazy ease of someone entirely in control. "Now that you have accomplished your duty, I would say… thank you."
The Boss Monster roared as its trapped hand began to swell grotesquely. Its entire body convulsed, shadows writhing in protest. It tried desperately to wrench free, but the man's grip did not falter. His fingers remained closed around its claw as though he were holding nothing more than a cup of tea.
Then came the sound. A wet, tearing rupture, followed by a violent explosion of flesh. The monster's body burst apart in a storm of gore. Blood sprayed the tunnel walls in a ghastly arc, chunks of twisted flesh splattering stone. Yet the man's immaculate clothing remained untouched, not a drop of crimson daring to stain him.
The Countess gasped, struggling to force words past the suffocating pressure in the air. Her throat clenched; the oppressive aura pouring off the stranger crushed her breath before it could leave her lips.
The man sighed as though inconvenienced, not by danger, but by the act of saving another life. "Sigh… saving people is truly such a tiresome hassle." His tone was not cruel, but weary, as if he had stepped out of his way for something beneath him.
Slowly, he turned toward her. Their eyes met.
His irises were pitch-black, but within them glittered something sharp, intelligent, and cold — like the gleam of a blade hidden in darkness. The warmth of his smile made her stomach twist.
"Forgive my lateness, Countess," he said, voice soft, almost tender. "I had… matters to attend to before arriving."
Her vision spun, muddled from the wound. Who is this man?
He tilted his head, reading her confusion as though she were an open book. "You must be wondering who I am. Since you seem the curious type… I am the Sin of Greed, at your service."
The words landed like poison. Her thoughts splintered, scattered, then dissolved into nothing as her body gave in. The Countess slumped unconscious against Angelo's broken frame.
The man chuckled, the sound low and velvety, echoing faintly in the blood-soaked tunnel. "Pheww… lucky me." His gaze slid toward the sealed iron door with a calculating gleam. "The protective barrier may be good, yes… but a shield is only as strong as its weakest part. Compromise the key components, and it collapses like glass. Very well."
He turned, ready to leave, when a faint, rasping sound caught his attention.
He looked down. Angelo was still moving, choking on his own breath, his body crushed but not entirely extinguished.
The man crouched, expression calm, almost kindly. "You are still alive?"
Angelo's head twitched weakly. He forced the words out, his voice a hoarse whisper of desperation. "P… please… let me live…"
The man's smile softened, his tone lilting with mock compassion. "Ah. So you wish to live?"
Angelo's tears streaked through the grime and blood on his face. He gave the faintest nod, clinging to a shred of hope.
Greed leaned closer, his voice dropping into a coaxing murmur. "Very well, then." His ringed hand brushed against Angelo's shattered chest.
In an instant, Angelo's body ruptured violently, exploding into fragments of flesh and bone. The Countess was spared the sight, still unconscious, but the tunnel walls wept with fresh gore. The man straightened calmly, untouched by the carnage. "Disgusting."
His gaze drifted back to the Countess. She lay still, blood pooling beneath her hair, her breath shallow. He knelt once more, his touch deceptively gentle as his fingers traced her cheek.
"Thank you, Countess," he whispered, almost reverent, though the meaning behind the words was impossible to grasp.
He rose, smoothed his jacket with meticulous precision, and began walking away, leaving behind one broken body and a tunnel painted red.
~~~~~~~~~~~
The remnants of the sewer tunnel were a ruin of shattered stone and dripping filth, the air thick with dust and the metallic tang of blood. This was no training ground. It was a cage — and inside it, the brutal, one-sided lesson in survival dragged on.
Lily and Syl fought on pure adrenaline, their bodies battered, their breaths ragged. Their movements had grown sluggish, clumsy, while Vielwalker remained untouched, a shadow given flesh, every step precise and unhurried.
Together, the sisters lunged. Lily darted low, her dagger flashing toward his flank, while Syl struck high, her twin blades a silver arc aimed at his throat. For a heartbeat, there was hope.
Then Vielwalker moved.
His fist drove mercilessly into Syl's stomach, folding her body with a sickening crunch before hurling her across the tunnel. She slammed against the wall, stone shattering around her. Lily barely had time to react before his hand closed around her wrist, iron-like and unyielding.
He squeezed.
The bones gave way with a sharp crack. Lily screamed, her dagger falling from her grasp. Vielwalker's expression did not change. With a flick, he hurled her through the air. Syl, staggering to her feet, tried to catch her, but the impact carried them both into the far wall. They collapsed together in a heap, coughing, blood streaking their lips, their breaths shallow and uneven.
Vielwalker approached slowly, his steps echoing, each one heavy with a predator's certainty. His eyes carried no urgency, only a calm superiority. "Your fighting…" His voice was deep, measured, and cutting. "Is this what your training amounts to? Such weakness. Such wasted potential. Pathetic."
He nudged Lily's dagger with his boot, sending it skittering across the floor toward them. His gaze did not soften. "Heal yourselves. I won't have you both die from something so pitiful."
Syl let her blades clatter from her trembling hands. She pressed her palms over Lily's shattered wrist, a soft light blooming through the filth and blood. Lily gasped as her ribs shifted beneath the touch, bones knitting with agonizing slowness.
Her voice came out as a hoarse whisper. "Syl… we need to escape. No matter what."
Syl's hands shook as she worked, her jaw clenched. "I know. But we've tried. You saw what happened. He is…" She could not finish the thought. He is beyond us.
"But we have to!" Lily's eyes, wet and frantic, burned with desperate fire. "This isn't training. It's slaughter. We're going to die here."
The air shifted. A cold shadow fell across them. Vielwalker was suddenly there, his presence suffocating, his voice a silken blade. "Did I give you permission to speak?"
Lily's instincts screamed. Pure panic surged through her, burning away the pain. She seized Syl by the arm and dragged her aside just as Vielwalker's foot struck.
The kick tore into the wall where they had been, pulverizing the stone into a crater. Shards exploded outward, razor edges tearing through the air. Dust billowed, filling their lungs.
Vielwalker straightened, brushing a fragment of stone from his shoulder as if nothing had happened. His smile was small, almost approving, but his eyes gleamed with cold delight. "Very impressive, Eris. To react like that in such a state… perhaps there is something inside you after all. With time, you could become more than prey."
His tone hardened. "But you are not there yet."
He vanished in a flicker of dark motion, reappearing with merciless precision. His foot caught Lily squarely, tearing her away from Syl. She crashed into the opposite wall, stone collapsing in a deafening rumble. The debris fell with crushing weight, burying her leg beneath jagged blocks.
Lily screamed, the sound sharp and raw, echoing down the ruined tunnel.
Syl reacted with a raw cry of fear and fury, striking out wildly at Vielwalker. He caught her hand without effort, his fingers tightening until the bones gave way with a sickening crack. Syl roared in agony.
"And as for you," Vielwalker sneered, his voice sharp as steel, "is this the strength you plan to bring before my master? Tell me, girl… if Eris stood before death itself, would you protect her like this? With broken strikes and blind rage?"
Syl's body shook, tears spilling as she tried to kick at him. He caught her foot as easily as one might pluck a twig from the ground, and the crushing grip on her ankle shattered bone. The scream that tore from her throat echoed down the ruined tunnel, raw and guttural.
Vielwalker's hand shot to her throat, lifting her from the ground in one smooth motion. Her legs thrashed helplessly, the air cut from her lungs. "Silence," he growled, his gaze burning into her. "What waits for you outside this place is not sparring. It is death. If you cannot face me, you will never face what is to come."
Lily, still half-buried beneath the rubble, clawed at the stones. Blood streaked her leg as she dragged it free, her body trembling from the effort. Her voice cracked, desperate. "STOP! You are going to kill her!"
Vielwalker ignored her, his eyes locked on Syl's fading struggles. His voice rose in a commanding snarl. "Use your power without your hands, girl! Do it!"
Syl's face was red, veins straining at her temples. Her broken hands hung limp, pain and panic drowning every thought. She tried, but nothing came. The weight of his grip, the pain lacing her body, the suffocating fear — it was too much. Blackness pressed at the edges of her vision.
"Do it!" Vielwalker bellowed, shaking her like a doll. "Do it Now!"
Lily's voice broke into a sob. "Please… stop… you'll kill her!" Her tears spilled freely, every word carrying the anguish of helplessness.
Syl's arms fell lifelessly at her sides. Her eyes rolled, her body slackening in Vielwalker's hand.
Something inside Lily shattered.
Her scream ripped through the tunnel, raw and unearthly. Her brown hair flared crimson, strands igniting with unnatural light. Her eyes snapped open, and the darkness inside them was absolute, bottomless. A suffocating pulse of black mana burst from her, slamming into the tunnel walls and smothering all light. The sewer plunged into a void of cold and silence.
Vielwalker's smile faltered. He stilled. He loosened his grip on Syl just enough for her to gasp and cough, his gaze now fixed entirely on Lily.
From the stone beneath them, shadows stirred. Souls long buried clawed their way into being, their wails shrill and broken. Whispers swirled in the dark, a choir of agony rising to a crescendo. The apparitions swarmed Lily, cradling her as though she were their mistress. They lifted the stones from her mangled leg, shadows curling around her frame like reverent hands.
Syl, choking on air, could only stare. What… what is happening?
Lily's black eyes locked onto Vielwalker. There was no hesitation, no recognition. Slowly, deliberately, her hand rose to point at him.
The swarm obeyed. Screeching, howling, the legion of shadows hurled themselves at Vielwalker, gnashing with the hunger of a thousand lost souls. The air tore with their fury as they closed over him, ripping, biting, tearing like starving beasts.
And yet…
A whisper of motion. Vielwalker materialized silently behind Lily, untouched, his presence colder than the void itself. His voice, for once, carried no mockery — only a quiet, almost regretful finality. "Sorry, Eris."
With a swift chop, his hand struck the back of her neck.
Lily crumpled, consciousness fleeing in an instant. The shadows dissolved into nothing, the whispers silenced, the tunnel returning to its broken, blood-soaked gloom.
Syl clutchd her crushed hand to her chest, her breath ragged. Her wide, tear-streaked eyes fixed on Lily as she slumped into Vielwalker's arms.
What chilled her to the bone was not the monster holding Lily, but the monstrous power that had just erupted from her. How…?
Vielwalker's expression was unreadable, his voice calm, almost satisfied. "Yes. Eris still clung to control of her powers. Her mother's seal was never perfect."
As if to confirm his words, Lily's blazing red hair dimmed and softened, fading back into its natural brown. The storm was gone. She was only Lily again. Vielwalker lowered her with a strange gentleness, placing her on the cold stone floor.
Before Syl could take a full breath, the world above them roared. A deafening explosion thundered through the tunnel, dust and shards of stone raining down as the walls quaked.
Vielwalker stood tall, unshaken. He spoke, his voice sharp and deliberate, cutting through the rumbling chaos and the ringing in Syl's ears. "Do not fear Eris. Be grateful instead. Both of you survived me… and that is more fortune than most can claim."
His shadow loomed over her as he stretched out his hand. A sudden wave of cold energy coursed through Syl's body. The pain in her shattered hand and ruined ankle melted away, bones knitting, flesh repairing in seconds. She gasped, staring at her hand as sensation returned, unsure whether to feel relief or dread.
The same energy swept over Lily, mending the damage Vielwalker had dealt. Her breathing steadied, though she remained unconscious.
"Follow that passage," Vielwalker said, gesturing toward a dim side corridor that stretched into blackness. His words carried the weight of command, not suggestion. "Move swiftly. Do not think that facing my master will mean your deaths. You may yet prove useful."
Then his voice sank lower, his tone sharp as a blade. "But if you care for your father… and your mother… you will obey."
Syl's breath caught. He knows… he knows about them. Her fists clenched, anger and helplessness twisting together in her chest. By the time she looked back, Vielwalker was already gone, vanished into the shadows as though he had never been there.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Syl stood shakily, her body no longer broken but heavy with exhaustion. She went and dropped to her knees beside Lily, brushing strands of hair from her bloodstained face.
Then, a sudden gasp. Lily's eyes flew open, wild and frantic. "SYL!" Her voice cracked with panic as she sat upright, clutching her.
Relief surged through Syl like a wave. "I'm here," she whispered, though her throat was tight.
"You're okay… you're fine." Lily's words tumbled out in a rush of desperate relief, her arms locking around Syl with a strength born of terror.
Syl closed her eyes and returned the embrace, holding Lily as tightly as she could. For a moment, the memory of that monstrous power flickered in her mind, chilling her blood. But the warmth of her friend's grip drowned it out.
This was Lily. Her Lily.
She clung to that truth, even as dread still coiled in her heart.