"O Eternal Everlasting, Serina Bright! Goodness follows you, evil worships you! Light yearns for you, and even darkness desires you! You are the one beyond all existence, the color painted on all creation by the divine!"
As Ash crawled out of the body bag, he was met with a sea of black-robed worshippers prostrating themselves, faces pressed against the cold stone floor, fervently chanting praises. The familiarity of their hymn almost triggered his PTSD.
They're singing the exact same standardized hymn from the Blood Moon?! What kind of unified global playlist is this?!
"I'm starting to think we're in this mess because of you, Ash…" Harvey muttered with a resigned sigh. His complaint was cut short by a muffled grunt as one of the black-robed zealots stepped on his left arm, reducing it to a twisted, limp mass—not from excessive force, but because it was missing a bone.
During their escape from Gessath's sniper ambush, everyone had been battered. Ash was forced to stop running, Igula had lost a chunk of flesh, and Ronald had thrown himself into danger to cover Ronna. Harvey had seemed unscathed, deflecting sniper fire with a casually tossed bone, but the hours-long journey in the cramped car had revealed his secret—his left arm was essentially useless, dangling lifelessly at his side.
Now, seeing the arm completely flattened under the pressure, Ash finally understood. Harvey had sustained the most severe injuries; unlike Igula, who could regrow his missing flesh, Harvey couldn't regenerate bone. His necromantic miracles might have been able to repair it, but with the slave collar clamped on him from the start, there had been no chance to conjure a replacement.
It was like running out of toilet paper only to discover the water was shut off too.
Chains slithered like tentacles around the three of them, dragging them forward. Ash took the opportunity to study their surroundings, and a chill crept down his spine.
This underground hall… it's disturbingly familiar.
The cavernous space stretched upwards at least ten meters and was as vast as two football fields. Despite its ancient appearance, it was brightly lit by floating braziers that radiated an eerie, almost sacred light. The walls were unnervingly smooth, adorned with vivid murals depicting grotesque scenes: orderly lines of people walking into mass executions, bizarre ritualistic orgies involving six individuals forming unnatural formations, hundreds of slit throats spilling blood into pools, and decaying corpses of countless species.
The dazzling colors, paired with the depraved subject matter, should have been overwhelming. But as Ash scanned the walls, he felt… nothing. Neither revulsion nor attraction, only a detached sense of observation, as if he were merely critiquing an avant-garde art installation.
"Don't stare," Igula whispered sharply. "It's contaminated."
Ash snapped out of his trance, realizing too late that the murals were seeping into his psyche. They had nearly reshaped his perception of normalcy. Only Igula had noticed his subtle shift, likely because Igula had a refined sense of aesthetics, unlike Ash and Harvey, who could admire the abstract patterns in their own toilet stains.
The chains tugged again, urging them forward. Ahead lay a narrow stone path suspended over an ominously still pool of water. Four towering statues flanked the path: a commanding general, a scholarly middle-aged man, a benevolent elder, and an innocent maiden.
The chanting ceased abruptly. The hall fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the echo of their footsteps as they were marched toward a towering silver throne.
When they reached the throne, the chains pulled taut, forcing them to their knees.
"Are these the outlanders?"
A delicate, childlike voice emanated from the throne. As it smoothly swiveled to face them, Ash, Igula, and Harvey found themselves stunned.
Sitting atop the throne was a petite girl who appeared no older than ten. Her long silver hair was streaked with a deep crimson, giving it a layered brilliance. She wore a black Gothic dress trimmed with white lace, resembling a porcelain doll.
But the girl… had no arms. No legs.
She sat there like an unfinished mannequin, her limbs missing, her body more decoration than human. Two mechanical arms extended from the throne itself: one holding a steaming cup, the other flipping through a thin comic book.
"Yes, Eternal Everlasting," the black-robed leader confirmed. "The Book of Revelations has verified—they are indeed outlanders."
"Well done," the girl praised with a gentle nod. "Bring forth the other sacrifices. The ritual shall commence immediately. The Four Pillars are eager to receive their offerings."
"Yes, my lady!"
The hall erupted into a frenzy of fervent activity. The braziers flared brighter, and the air grew heavy with anticipation. Chains tightened around Ash, Igula, and Harvey, leaving them helpless as the zealots prepared for their slaughter.
"Ash!"
"Ash…"
Both Harvey and Igula turned to him with desperate glares, their unspoken plea clear as day. Ash's expression twisted with frustration.
They think I'm their way out of this.
Of course, they did. In their minds, Ash was the leader of the Four Pillars cult, and this was clearly a Four Pillars Church operation. Surely, this was just a case of mistaken identity—a classic "family not recognizing family" scenario.
All Ash had to do was reveal his true identity, reclaim his position, and save them. Maybe even convert them into loyal followers. Anything to survive.
But Ash knew better. While the Observer of the End might have been the title given to him, he had no actual connection to this church. He had never met the Four Pillars, didn't know their doctrine, and couldn't even fake his way through their rituals.
Still, dying without trying was the worst possible outcome. Summoning every ounce of courage, Ash raised his head.
"Uh… hi."
"Hello." The girl—Eternal Everlasting—peered down at him with polite curiosity. "Is there something you'd like to say?"
Ash decided to test the waters. "I am the Observer of the End, Ash Heath."
"I am the Eternal Everlasting, Serina Bright," she replied smoothly, turning to the others. "Would your companions like to introduce themselves as well?"
"No, no, that's not what I meant," Ash stammered. "I'm also… a believer of the Four Pillars."
"Oh?" Her crimson eyes sparkled with interest. "Do go on."
"I'm the leader of the Blood Moon branch," Ash continued cautiously. "The Blood Moon Kingdom is where we outlanders hail from."
Eternal Everlasting tilted her head, studying him with innocent bemusement. "But… you seem like a good person."
Ash's face turned crimson.
Everywhere else, people accused him of being a monstrous cult leader no matter how much he protested. Now, faced with an actual cultist, his claim of villainy was being dismissed outright.
"Seriously," he gritted out. "I've been charged with countless crimes—kidnapping, murder, robbery—sentenced to the highest penalties. I only escaped after a daring prison break. I'm not a good person!"
Her expression softened into a sweet, almost pitying smile. "Then prove it."
"Prove it?"
A mechanical arm extended from the throne, dropping a dagger at his feet. The chains binding him vanished, leaving only the collar around his neck.
"If you are truly one of the Four Pillars' chosen, then these two," she said, gesturing to Harvey and Igula, "are nothing more than offerings. Show me. Torture them. Break them. Fill them with despair and delight in their suffering. But do not kill them."
Her crimson eyes bore into his soul. "Surely such a task is as simple as eating or breathing for someone like you… Observer of the End."