"Work! Please work! I need you to work!"
A shaky voice cried out, raw with desperation.
The owner of that voice knelt in a dark room, positioned at the center of a large, intricate ritual circle drawn in blood—but not his own.
His hands trembled violently, his face ghostly pale and stained with blood that had long since dried. His violet eyes were hollow, and desperate.
The room was cramped and suffocating, shrouded in darkness like a forgotten storage chamber. In one corner lay a corpse—purple hair cascading down, matted and darkened by the pool of blood beneath. Her eyes were inky black and glassy, her skin marble-white and cold as winter stone. A vicious wound gaped in her chest, so deep one could see straight through to the floor beneath.
He clasped his trembling hands together and began a haunting recital.
"To all that seek the path of oneness, to the past, to the future, and lastly to the present—there exists a road that devours the walker, forged by thorns of blood, carpeted with shards of agony. The way, the path, the direction leads to nowhere, because there is no way, no path, and no direction..."
His breathing became razor-thin. He opened his eyes with a cold, predatory glare.
"...there is only annihilation."
At once, the circle drawn in blood erupted with sickening crimson light. The air choked with the stench of decay, as if someone had torn open the very gates of hell.
The boy remained in the circle’s heart, his eyes steel-cold and unwavering. He didn’t flinch as the light clawed skyward, surging and converging into a sphere of writhing darkness—inky black veined with crimson light. Then, with the ferocious force of a tempest, it crashed down and invaded him.
He was hurled backward, skidding across the stone floor and tumbling like a broken doll before his spine cracked against the wall.
The boy remained motionless for several agonizing moments, writhing as something ravaged him from within. His organs, his bones, every fiber of his being burned with hellish intensity. The pain was so excruciating that death seemed like a tender mercy.
But eventually, the torment subsided. Somehow, impossibly, the boy managed to stand. He slowly pushed himself up to a sitting position, breath coming in ragged gasps.
Then he examined himself and frowned.
’It didn’t... work. I’m still here... I am still breathing.’
He clenched his fist and drove it into the ground with bitter fury.
He raised his eyes to the oppressive ceiling, then slowly turned toward the dead woman.
His eyes widened in sudden realization. He crawled desperately toward her, gathering her cold body into his arms and clutching her while sobs wracked his frame. New ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄhapters are published on NoveI-Fire.ɴet
"Mother... I will destroy them. I will make them pay for everything they did to us. For Taro’s death, I will make them pay. For your death, and Mister Shinro’s, I will burn the entire Clan to ash. I will not rest until I bury him alive beside your grave. He will wish he had never abandoned you... that he had never abandoned us."
The final words left his lips like venom, accompanied by a cold, lethal glare in his inky black eyes.