That night, the Isenberg family home was stained a crimson colour. It looked as though the home was used as a butcher house, and nobody had bothered to clean up after the work was finished.
The fireplace that normally made the home brighter seemingly only made it look darker than it was. Theodore fell to his knees as he gazed upon his mother's corpse that hung closely to the ceiling from a rope, with her limbs still continuing to bleed.
Why… Theodore asked, unable to process what was happening. No…
"Think you can just lose fights without repercussions?" An annoying voice sounded from behind Theodore. He felt a firm hand placed on his left shoulder, one belonging to none other than Vincent.
