Kruger barely had time to react. The thrall—once a soldier, now a grotesque puppet of Selene's will—lunged with unnatural speed, its rotting hands clawing for his throat. With a swift, brutal motion, Kruger raised his blade and slashed downward, severing the creature's arm at the elbow.
But it did not scream.
Instead, the thrall laughed—a gurgling, hollow sound that carried Selene's poisonous influence. The stump where its arm had been squirmed, black veins pulsing as a new limb—a jagged, fungal appendage—burst forth, grotesque and writhing.
"Tsk, tsk, General," Selene's voice purred through the dimly lit Rotting Cathedral. She watched from the shadows, perched on the decayed altar like a spider in its web. Her smile widened, bloodstained lips curling as her eyes gleamed with sickly amusement.
Kruger scowled. He had fought monsters before, but this? This was something else.
With a powerful kick, he sent the thrall stumbling backward before driving his blade into its chest. The creature shuddered, its body convulsing violently. Then, in a sudden, vile explosion, it burst into a swarm of alchemical spores, filling the air with a hissing mist.
Kruger held his breath, but the toxin burned at his skin, the scent of rot invading his senses. Selene's laughter echoed.
"Oh, General… You should know by now—" she whispered, stepping into the eerie green torchlight, her gloved fingers tracing over the vials strapped to her corset.
"—Death is never the end with me."
Before Kruger could strike, Selene moved with serpentine grace, pulling a vial from her chest and shattering it against the floor.
A thick, black liquid crawled across the stone, moving like living tendrils, slithering up Kruger's boots and twisting around his legs.
His muscles locked. His breath hitched.
Selene approached slowly, her presence both elegant and monstrous, her blonde hair damp with sweat and alchemical fumes. She crouched beside him, tilting her head as if studying a rare specimen.
"Look at you, Kruger… Such strength, such will. It's almost a shame." She traced a single, gloved finger down his cheek, leaving a cold, burning sensation in its wake.
Kruger tried to move—tried to fight—but his body refused to obey.
Selene leaned in closer, whispering against his ear, her breath sickly sweet.
"But don't worry, my dear General… I have such beautiful plans for you."
The torchlight flickered. The cathedral walls seemed to close in, the whispers of the dead growing louder.
And then—darkness consumed him.