Morning came cold and gray, casting an eerie light over the barren landscape. Cain walked in silence alongside the three girls, his mind heavy with thoughts of what lay ahead. Hours passed, yet there was still no sign of civilization. The wasteland stretched endlessly before him, lifeless and desolate.
Cain's patience wore thin. "Are you sure we're going the right way?" he asked, glancing at the red-haired girl leading the group.
She turned, flashing a too-sweet smile. "Of course. Just trust us. We're almost there."
Something in her tone sent a chill through Cain, but he kept moving. An hour crawled by, then another. With each step, unease gnawed at him, sharp and persistent.
There was no sign of a city—only this twisted place ahead. The buildings looked wrong, like they had been stitched together by a madman. Broken homes leaned against crooked towers, their shadows stretching unnaturally long. The air itself seemed to breathe, heavy and alive, pressing down on him with silent, invisible eyes.
Cain stopped abruptly, his eyes narrowing. "What is this place? Where have you brought me?"
The girls halted as well, their false kindness vanishing. Their expressions turned cold and predatory. The red-haired girl smirked as tendrils of energy sprouted from her fingers, wrapping around Cain's arms. "Grab his hands! Don't let him use his powers!" she ordered.
Before Cain could react, the other two girls sprang into action. One used magic to encase his hands in heavy stone, while the other pressed a dagger to his throat. Cain struggled, his heart racing, but their coordination was flawless.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Cain shouted, his voice echoing in the barren expanse.
The red-haired girl leaned closer, her eyes gleaming with malice. "It's nothing personal. You were just unlucky enough to cross our path."
"Yeah," the heavier girl chimed in, giggling darkly. "The High Priest is going to love this."
"A psychic Evolver, fresh from awakening his totem? You're a perfect offering," the third girl added, her voice dripping with malice.
Cain clenched his teeth, trying to summon his powers. He focused on the red-haired girl, willing her to collapse, but instead, her hair merely fluttered.
She tilted her head in confusion before laughing mockingly. "Did you just use your power to mess with my hair? Pathetic."
The larger girl burst out laughing. "Hey, Lily, I think he's into you."
"Too bad for him," Lily said, her voice thick with mockery. "I'm already taken. But who knows? Maybe I'll make an exception for him later."
Cain's heart sank. His powers felt dull, barely functional.
"What's wrong with me? This isn't like before!"he thought in frustration.
A familiar voice echoed in his mind, dripping with sarcasm. "Cain, you really can't seem to avoid trouble, can you? Want me to help?"
"Shut the hell up!" Cain snapped internally.
"Suit yourself," Dante replied, clearly amused.
The girls dragged Cain into the building, and the inside was far worse than he could have imagined. The air reeked of rot, thick and suffocating. In every shadow, something terrible stirred—low voices chanting in strange tones, figures moving in the dark, their actions grotesque and unnatural.
Blood-streaked symbols covered the walls, the shapes too disturbing to understand. Cain's stomach tightened as a horrifying thought struck him: this place belonged to a cult.
The last ten years had twisted Earth into something unrecognizable. When the planet was thrown into the Eternal Battlefield, chaos took root. Strange energies bled into the world, warping the land into a place of monsters and legends.
Out of this madness, new factions were born—some seeking order, others thriving in darkness. This cult was the latter, devoted to summoning and serving their twisted vision of a god.
Cain was dragged into a large chamber. At its center stood an emaciated old man, his torso bare and covered in grotesque tattoos that seemed to writhe under the flickering torchlight. A decayed skull adorned his head like a crown, and his lips moved constantly in inaudible whispers.
"High Priest," Lily called out, bowing low. "We've brought you a psychic Evolver. He just awakened his totem—fresh and perfect for your experiments."
The High Priest turned, his sunken eyes locking onto Cain. A grin split his face, revealing rotting teeth. "Excellent work, girls. You'll be rewarded handsomely."
The three girls giggled with delight before leaving the room, their task complete. Cain, now alone with the madman, felt a cold sweat drip down his back.
The High Priest approached him slowly, his gaze crawling over Cain's body like an insect. His bony fingers brushed against Cain's skin, making him shudder. "Strong. Healthy. Yes, you'll do nicely," the priest murmured, his voice like the rustling of dead leaves.
"What do you want from me?!" Cain growled, his voice defiant.
The leader's grin widened. "You'll find out soon enough. Take him to the altar!"
Several shirtless cultists appeared, their eyes vacant and their movements mechanical. They hoisted Cain off his feet, carrying him toward a blood-soaked altar at the room's center.
The air reeked of iron and decay, the floor slick with gore. Cain's stomach churned as he saw the remnants of previous victims—limbs, entrails, and unrecognizable flesh piled carelessly in corners.
Dante's voice resonated with an ancient weight, filled with a mix of disdain and curiosity. "Ah… an offering of the old ways. I would not have thought such primitive rituals still endured. It seems the whispers of those ancient fools linger yet."
"Do you know what they're going to do to me?" Cain asked silently, panic creeping into his thoughts.
"Now you want my advice?" Dante replied with mock indignation.
"Stop playing games, damn it!" Cain snapped.
Dante let out a long sigh, laced with irritation. "My memories are fragmented—blurred across countless ages. But does it matter? You don't trust me, nor do you seem to need me. Handle it yourself."
Cain growled under his breath. "Don't forget, if I die here, you lose as much as I do."
There was a pause, then Dante spoke again, his voice colder. "You assume too much, Cain. You're not the first, and you won't be the last. Should you fall, I'll simply start anew. Do not delude yourself into thinking your survival matters to me."
Cain ignored Dante, refusing to engage further. He knew he could only rely on himself. Dante's mysterious presence, with its unknown motives, made trust impossible. If there was any chance to survive, Cain resolved to do it without leaning on Dante.
The cult leader raised a jagged blade, his eyes gleaming with madness. "Abandon purity! Surrender the soul! Oh, great God of Rot, accept this gift and bless us!"
The cult leader's voice rose in frenzy as he lifted the blade high. Without pause, he plunged it into Cain's stomach. A searing pain tore through him as blood spilled, soaking the altar.
Cain gasped, his vision blurring as the cultists forced him onto the bloodstained altar. Their wild, ecstatic eyes gleamed with twisted joy, making the moment unbearable. His strength faded, the grip of death drawing ever closer.
But then—something awoke.
Deep within, Cain's Totem of Evolution ignited. A burst of radiant, seven-colored light pierced through, shattering the shadow of death that clung to him, pulling him back from the brink of the abyss.
The cult leader snapped out of his delusional trance, his eyes widening in shock. "What?! How are you still alive?!"