She stepped toward the cargo motorcycle, pulling back the tarp, half-expecting to see her there.
But there was nothing. Just a heap of dirty clothes.
Sharon’s breath hitched. She pressed both hands to her face, her body shaking. Then, the dam broke. An ugly sob came out of her throat.
"She ... she became the Lost." Her voice was barely audible through her cries. "She couldn’t take it anymore. She lost hope. And before she could fully turn, Dom—" she choked, swallowing down a sob. "Dom killed her."
"I’m sorry. I’m so sorry." Sharon’s voice cracked as she repeated the words over and over, her body trembling with each breath. "This is all my fault. If I hadn’t insisted on leaving, Jeanne would still be alive. My daughter ... she wouldn’t have had to suffer."
Her sobs grew louder, echoing through the canyon like a mourning song. "I’m sorry ... I’m so sorry, Sierra."
Her cries grew louder, echoing against the canyon walls. Medeia was about to step forward, to calm her down, but then—she noticed something was off.
Sharon’s fingers were unnaturally long, stretching far enough to cover her entire face. And as she hunched over, sharp bones protruded from her back, jutting out like a grotesque hump.
"Sharon ..." Medeia took a slow step back. "Do you feel ... different?"
"I... I’m f-fine." Sharon’s voice cracked, each syllable dragged out like it physically hurt to speak. "Why—why...?"
[A Wailing Mother Detected (Grade-S): Mutated Human / The Lost]
Medeia’s eyes widened as the system notification came out in her mind. Her heart clenched.
"Lucian," she called him over, keeping her voice low. "She’s turning into the Lost. The system says she’s a Wailing Mother. What kind of monster is that?"
Lucian’s expression darkened. "I’ve seen one before." His jaw tensed as he continued, "A Wailing Mother still looks human, but only at a glance. Their bodies become emaciated, their skin turns ghostly pale, like porcelain."
As if responding to his words, Sharon’s body began to shift. Her limbs stretched unnaturally, her clothes tearing at the seams.
Her fingers elongated, grazing the ground as if they no longer belonged to her. Bones jutted out beneath her thinning skin, her back arching at an unnatural angle.
"They attack anyone they believe is a threat to their child." Lucian’s grip tightened around the baby in his arms as he instinctively stepped between Medeia and Sharon. His entire body went rigid. "They’re created when a mother is consumed by guilt over her child’s suffering or death."
Medeia reached for his arm, her fingers digging in slightly. "But she was fine just a moment ago." Her voice was quiet, careful, like speaking too loudly might make things worse. "I didn’t know someone could turn into the Lost this fast."
If Medeia remembered correctly, the villagers had said that her own transformation took several days before she fully regained consciousness. That was why she assumed Sharon still had time.
"It depends on the person," Lucian said quietly. "Sometimes it takes days. Other times ... just minutes." He looked down at the frail baby in his arms, his grip tightening protectively. "But I think Sharon has been turning for a while now. She just forced herself to hold on, maybe long enough to make sure her baby was safe."
Medeia’s stomach twisted. "Then... what about her now?"
Before Lucian could answer, Sharon let out a ragged breath, her body convulsing.
Her face sharpened into something inhuman—cheeks sunken so deep her skin stretched tight over her skull. Her eyes bulged unnaturally before slipping from their sockets, leaving behind hollow, bleeding voids. It looked as if she were crying blood.
Lucian sighed. "She’s gone, Medeia." He whispered, "We can’t save her."
Medeia clenched her fists. The realization settled like lead in her chest.
There was only one way to free Sharon now.
They had to end her life.
If they let her live, she wouldn’t just be a threat to them, she’d be a danger to everyone.
Lucian carefully handed the baby to Medeia. His voice was steady, but there was a quiet urgency beneath it. "You don’t have to see this. Take the baby back to the base. Make sure she gets to the doctors."
She barely heard his voice. Medeia’s focus remained fixed on Sharon, on the twisted, heartbreaking figure she had become.
If she ever lost her own children in this world... would she end up like Sharon?
Even as a demon, Medeia had spent centuries drowning in the grief of losing her children. It had never truly faded. Now, in this fragile human body, could she endure that kind of pain again?
Her mind was strong—SSS+ level unbreakable. But when it came to her children, did that strength still hold?
"No," Medeia murmured, stepping forward. "Let me do it."
Lucian stiffened. "Medeia—"
She didn’t let him finish. Her voice was quiet but unwavering. "Only a mother who has carried this kind of guilt can understand another."
Lucian didn’t understand. He couldn’t.
He didn’t know that Medeia had once been a mother.
He didn’t know that she had lost her children.
"I have to do this," she interrupted gently. Then, for the briefest moment, she turned to him with a small, weary smile. "I was a mother too."
Lucian’s eyes widened, stunned by her words. But as the realization settled in, his expression softened.
"Do you need my help?" he asked quietly.
Medeia shook her head. "No. This time, I’ll handle it myself."
She took a slow breath, then summoned her abyssal sword, its dark energy curling around her fingers like smoke.
One mother stood before another.
And only one of them would walk away.
The wailing woman turned her head toward Medeia, her hollow eye sockets tracking her every move like a serpent watching its prey. Her movements were still stiff and disjointed—perhaps because her transformation was still too fresh.
Medeia lifted her chin, meeting those empty, bleeding eyes without flinching. "Sharon, your baby is safe with us."