How did she find this place?!
She should have died without ever knowing anything!
The black-robed man stared in horror at the red-haired girl before him. His brain, already wracked with intense pain, couldn’t begin to process how she had managed to track him down here so precisely.
And the girl—after executing a perfect shot that blew Braid’s head apart—had turned the gun on herself… Was she insane?
No… If she wasn’t insane, there was only one other possibility.
Someone capable of such bizarre, out-of-the-ordinary actions—if not insane, could only be a transcendent being.
But how was that possible?
Braid had carefully selected this girl as the sacrificial lamb for the ritual. She had no background, no connections—she was the kind of person whose death would go unnoticed by anyone. How could she possibly complete the Vengeance Ritual? What path had she taken?
Could it be that… her apparent mediocrity was itself part of the ritual’s design?
The Vengeance Ritual wasn’t complete yet, and he wasn’t about to die here!
Without further hesitation, he reached into his robe, shattering the small translucent vial containing the flesh-colored tendril.
The vial broke, shards slicing into his fingers. The flesh-colored tendril inside squirmed like a worm, violently thrashing as it burrowed into the wound on his hand.
“Wait… my lady… Your Excellency!”
“I… I have a complete set of Vengeance Ritual notes and potions. They’re yours! A token of my foolish apology!”
The black-robed man raised his head to look at the red-haired girl. His gaunt, grotesque face began to fill out with writhing, fleshy growths…
Ciel stared at the black-robed man, who lay sprawled on the ground, barely clinging to life. Her heart rate quickened slightly.
When he had collapsed after being shot, his hood had fallen back, revealing a face so hideous it made her stomach churn.
His emaciated cheeks, the sagging skin that refused to cover his muscles and bones, and the pustule-like growths on his scalp that pulsed grotesquely—just a glimpse was enough to unsettle her to the core. Her steps, which had been inching toward him, faltered.
The half-man, half-ghost figure before her made Ciel question whether her gun or knife could even inflict real harm on him.
In her moment of hesitation, the black-robed man propped himself up with one hand and spoke in a trembling voice:
“Wait… my lady… Your Excellency!”
“I… I have a complete set of Vengeance Ritual notes and potions. They’re yours! A token of my foolish apology!”
He slowly raised his head, his yellowing sclera and lifeless pupils locking onto Ciel’s gaze. In that instant, a deafening hum filled her mind.
“Braid was merely a pawn for my Vengeance Ritual. After I’d guided him, he acted alone. I didn’t expect him to target you.”
“This potion was only a tool I used to manipulate Braid. If Your Excellency desires…”
“This potion and the notes are yours…”
The black-robed man’s voice echoed in her head. In her vision, everything blurred into indistinct patches of color. The only thing she could clearly see was his face, grotesquely bulging with flesh-like growths, drawing closer with every flicker.
Ciel felt the whispers in her mind grow louder, drowning out her thoughts. Her body stiffened, and she began to lose sensation in her limbs.
Is this… transcendence?
Potion… notes… Vengeance Ritual… manipulation…
These fragmented terms struggled to piece themselves together in her mind.
In her distorted vision, even the blurred colors began to warp, leaving only his terrifying face, growing closer with each flicker.
No… I have to move… I have to do something…
Ciel’s mind screamed in alarm. As that grotesque face drew nearer, a horrific hallucination began to take shape in her mind—flesh-like growths tearing through his cheeks, sprouting barbed tendrils that gnawed at her own face…
There’s still… the skill…
Summoning the last sliver of her strength, Ciel pulled the trigger of the revolver pressed against her temple.
The hammer struck the primer with a sharp crack. Black powder erupted in a cloud of smoke, propelling the bullet forward as flames from the muzzle scorched her hair. The round tore into her skull, churning through her brain with violent force.
The gunshot roared like a thunderclap in her ears, shattering the whispers and hums in an instant.
As brain matter and blood sprayed from her head, her vision returned to normal.
She saw the black-robed man clutching his wound, limping toward her.
His face, distorted with flesh growths, strained as the tendrils writhed violently, seemingly desperate to break free. Ciel could even see blood seeping from his eyes, along with a barbed tendril beginning to protrude from his eye socket.
Fear and pain didn’t break Ciel. Instead, she entered a state of eerie calm, as if she were already dead.
Under the black-robed man’s stunned gaze, she raised her left hand, now holding an empty revolver, and hurled it at him. Her right hand, gripping the short knife, slashed forward with deadly precision, drawing closer with unnerving speed.
The blade cut across his neck, leaving a deep gash.
Ignoring the foul black blood that sprayed onto her, Ciel struck again and again, her knife slicing relentlessly into his throat. Even as the flesh growths on his face erupted in a frenzy, she didn’t falter.
In this moment, Ciel was already a dead woman. And as the dead, she had nothing to fear.
Thick, dark blood splattered across the floor. The black-robed man’s neck was nearly severed, hanging by only a thin strip of skin after the ferocity of her strikes.
He had long since perished. His skin sagged once more, the pustules on his scalp bursting, spilling black blood and small, translucent egg-like objects across the ground. A flesh-colored tendril began to coalesce in the pool of blood, glowing faintly with a pinkish hue.
Ciel finally halted her assault. She had no heartbeat, no breath, and no fear of the gruesome scene before her. Her dark red pupils began to lose focus.
Her control over her body slipped away, her consciousness drifting.
Is the simulation ending…? The thought flitted through her mind.
I wonder if killing them earned me enough Fate Points… But since I died too, I probably didn’t get much…
Ciel used the knife to cut open the black-robed man’s garment, her stiff movements revealing a black, translucent vial. Inside wasn’t liquid, but a swirling mass of what appeared to be gas.
In addition to the potion, she found two notebooks, which she clutched in her left hand, intending to store them in the system after the simulation ended.
Her gaze caught the flesh-colored tendril lying in the pool of blood. Slowly, she extended her right hand, using the knife tip to lift the tendril. Summoning every ounce of strength, she staggered to her feet.
Ciel’s thoughts began to slow. Her cognitive abilities were rapidly declining.
She stared blankly at the tendril on the blade, her muddled mind circling around a single question.
Can I send this to the system store without touching it?
Probably need direct contact…
But my left hand is full, and my right hand’s holding the knife. If I drop it, I won’t get it back…
Ciel slowly raised the knife, inching the pink tendril toward her mouth.
A blood-curdling scream suddenly rang out from the tavern entrance.
Ciel, now devoid of rational thought, awkwardly turned her head toward the source of the noise.
She froze in place, head tilted at an unnatural angle.
The once-still, deathly quiet street began to stir, boiling over in chaos sparked by that single scream.