Kruger's breath was ragged, his pulse hammering like a war drum. The Rotting Cathedral's shadows twisted, creeping toward him as Selene's laughter crawled up his spine like a centipede.
"What's wrong, hunter?" she whispered, stepping forward.
Her skin—ashen and smooth, marked with eldritch carvings—was marred only by the plague ichor that dripped lazily from her lips. The hooded cloak of decay she wore was lined with strange symbols, pulsing faintly. And her necklace—**a collection of rusted needles, vials of viridescent venom, and bone charms—**clinked softly as she moved.
Kruger steadied his blade. Focus.
"I won't fall for your tricks, witch," he spat.
Selene tilted her head, her pale lips curling into something between amusement and hunger.
"Oh, Kruger… but you already have."
Before he could react, a shadow darted past him.
Pain—searing, venomous—shot through his ribs.
He staggered back, his vision blurring. His fingers reached instinctively for the wound, but as soon as he touched it, a hissing, green vapor seeped from his skin.
Selene's smile widened. "You can feel it, can't you?"
Kruger gritted his teeth, fighting the dizziness overtaking him.
"A taste of my newest plague alchemy—Venom in the Veins," she continued, circling him like a predator. "A slow death, creeping through your blood, turning your strength into rot."
The walls trembled. The air grew heavy, thick with whispers.
Kruger fell to one knee, vision flickering.
He saw faces in the dark—mocking, pitying. The faces of those he had lost. The people he failed.
"Do you see them?" Selene murmured, kneeling before him. "They never blamed me, Kruger. They blamed you."
His grip on his sword faltered.
The venom was clouding his thoughts, filling his head with ghosts.
"You swore to protect them."
"You're no hero, Kruger. Just a murderer."
Selene cupped his chin, tilting his face up to meet her golden, inhuman eyes.
"Do you understand now?" she whispered. "There is no light left in you. Only rot."
A single drop of plague dripped from her lips onto his.
Kruger choked on his own breath, his body spasming. The shadows around him tightened, suffocating.
Buried under pain, under guilt, under the weight of his past.
His fingers tightened around his blade.
With a ragged gasp, he lunged—driving steel toward Selene's throat.