Her body was hanging in a half-seated position, both hands chained high above her head, her feet bound to the base of the post. Her clothes were partially torn, her black hair a mess covering part of her face. From a distance, she looked like an ancient offering in a sacrificial ritual—and that was the reality.
But what made the scene even more horrifying was the background. Behind Lisa, a clear pane of glass as tall as the stage wall loomed, framed in old, rusted gold carvings. But the glass was no ordinary mirror.
It didn't reflect the room, but rather displayed the view outside the building, facing directly into the forest behind the church. Behind the glass, a pale moon hung in the dark sky, and the silhouettes of trees stood like dark spectators.
And in the midst of the trees' shadows—something was moving.
Rio gripped Dany's arm unconsciously, his voice barely escaping him.
"...That's no ordinary window," he whispered.
Dany just nodded slowly, his face tense.
The man in the white robe raised both his hands high, his voice now full of a manufactured enthusiasm. "Behold, my children! Our offering tonight is truly special! This young woman… she is no common sacrifice! She is a true descendant of the legendary Gladius family, the heir to a sword power whose story has echoed throughout history! With such a precious offering, the God Himself will descend upon this place to take her with His own two hands!"
Thunderous cheers erupted from the crowd. The faces that were once tense were now filled with a blind ecstasy, as if they were truly about to witness the descent of the promised god. They prostrated themselves, clapped, and howled praises toward the stage like people who had lost their minds.
Rio gritted his teeth, his jaw muscles tightening. On the stage, Lisa didn't move, as if she had already resigned herself to her fate. He had to act—they had to act. But when? How? All attention was fixed on the stage, and the robed man looked ready to begin the ritual at any moment.
However, before Rio could make a decision—something happened.
From behind the giant glass pane looming behind Lisa, a large shadow shot forward, so fast it was nearly invisible.
And then—
CRRAAASSHHH!!!
The sound of shattering glass exploded like a clap of thunder, making Rio's heart pound in his chest. The altar's glass window shattered into a thousand pieces, its shards flying like a rain of knives across the stage.
Rio took half a step back reflexively, his eyes wide.
Someone—no, something—had broken through the glass and landed in the middle of the stage.
Its silhouette stood firm amidst the broken glass and the moonlight streaming in from outside. A tall figure in an expensive cloak that fluttered slowly. His neat clothes were like those of an elite official from the city center, but his aura… was inhuman. His face was handsome, almost perfect, but something was wrong—too clean, too calm, with a gaze that sent a shiver down Rio's spine.
The entire hall fell silent in an instant. The villagers who had been cheering for their god now prostrated themselves like insects before a predator.
Their murmurs, full of worship and fear, were barely a whisper. "The God… The God has come…"
The man in the suit ignored the crowd. He walked slowly, his polished leather shoes making no sound on the cluttered stage. His dismissive gaze was fixed straight on Lisa, who now lifted her head, looking at him with a mixture of hatred and a fear she tried to fight back.
Without a single word, the suited man approached Lisa. His gaze was empty yet judgmental, a faint smile playing on his lips as if enjoying her unspoken fear. His hand, slender and pale like that of an old royal, reached out slowly. And in an instant—
THWACK!
He seized Lisa by the neck.
Lisa's body lifted slightly from the post. Her breath caught. Her eyes widened, staring at the stranger's face—too neat, too clean… too inhuman. A cold sensation crawled up the back of her neck, not just from the chokehold, but from an instinctual fear… something inside her knew, if a miracle didn't happen now—she would die there.
And the miracle came. Not in the form of light, not in the voice of an angel.
But...
"SRINGGGG!!!"
A silver flash cut through the night.
The Man's head was severed.
Lisa only saw it as a sharp glint of light originating from the side of the crowd, moving too fast to follow. And instantly—
THWACK!!
Warm blood splattered against her cheek.
The chokehold was released. The suited man's body stopped moving. His neck was cleanly severed, and a moment later, his head was sent flying, rolling across the stage floor with a look of frozen shock on its handsome face. Blood gushed from the severed neck, soaking Lisa's still-bound feet.
Lisa was speechless, her body trembling… but not from fear. Her eyes slowly turned toward the still-swinging sword—and she knew.
"Rio..." her heart whispered. Not out of weakness. But out of certainty. The one who came wasn't a savior from a fairytale. It was someone she knew. Someone who wouldn't let her die.
But before Lisa could process it all.
A second head went rolling.
The head of the priest in the white robe. His mouth was still half-open, as if he had been about to scream a final curse… but was cut off by death. His blood sprayed wildly, flowing onto the wooden floor that had now become a sacrificial altar.
Lisa was stunned. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her breath hitched.
That flash… it was from two directions. Not just Rio.
She turned her head slowly to the side of the stage.
Dany.
Her friend's shadow emerged from behind the curtain, standing tall with a blood-dripping sword in his hand, his body still slightly bent in the final stance of a single, clean slash. His eyes were sharp and cold, a stark contrast to his usual easy-going demeanor.
Blood flowed from two different sources. Two heads lay side-by-side near her feet. Two killers emerging from the darkness to break the chains—both literally and figuratively.
Lisa looked at them both, Rio standing with his chest heaving, and Dany as still as a shadow. For a moment… she felt safe. Though her hands were still shackled, she knew—she was not alone. The wolves had come. And this altar… would become a grave for those who claimed to be gods.
Rio stood on the stage in his wolf mask, his breathing heavy, but his focus remained a burning ember.
Not far from him, Dany was already at Lisa's side, blood still dripping from the sword in his hand. In his grasp, an old iron key—he had taken it from the priest's robe.
Lisa looked at Dany for a moment—their eyes met. She gave a short nod. Not a simple thank you, but an acknowledgment. They came. They were on time.
Below the stage, the villagers began to realize what had happened. The faces that had been prostrated in religious ecstasy now twisted in horror. They stood stiffly, some beginning to mutter in panic.
The oppressive silence cracked.
"You… you masked criminals! How dare you kill our God! Our holy priest! No one can save this village now but him!"
The shout came from one of the villagers—an old man with red eyes and a trembling body, yet his voice was full of blind rage. His cry was like a whip, trying to stir the courage of those around him.
Rio stepped forward to the edge of the stage, his voice as sharp and cold as a sword's blade.
"You have all been deceived," he stated, every word filled with conviction. "All this time, you have been worshiping and giving offerings to Eaters! They are not gods! They are man-eating creatures who have been farming you… generation after generation… and you never realized. Believe me."
His words hung in the air like a death sentence. Silence choked the hall. The villagers looked at each other—afraid, doubtful, angry, but most of all: confused. The wall of faith they had built for hundreds of years was now cracking, and the new truth they had just heard felt like poison in their ears.
But in the midst of the tense silence, another sound was suddenly heard.
Laughter.
Hoarse. Raspy. Full of contempt. And most horrifying of all—it came from a direction it shouldn't have.
Rio whipped his head around. Lisa tensed. Dany narrowed his eyes.
The body of the suited man that was previously lifeless… was moving.
The chilling silence was shattered by a hoarse, cold, and triumphant laugh. A sound that should have been impossible.
All eyes, including those of the newly freed Rio, Dany, and Lisa, simultaneously turned toward the suited man's body—which had been lying headless—as it slowly rose to its feet. Like a puppet whose strings were being pulled taut again.
With a sickeningly casual movement, the body bent down, grabbed the hair of the head lying on the floor, and then lifted it high.
The severed head—with its handsome yet cynical face—laughed even harder. Its lips moved without a body, yet its voice echoed through the hall, as if seeping into the mind of every person there.