The woman emerged like a vision of blood and fire. Her dress was crimson silk, the fabric clinging to her torso before flowing at the knees, its folds swaying with each step. The brilliance of her gown set her apart from the monotone black, white, and gray that cloaked Verne. Her tall, elegant frame radiated both authority and menace.
Her skin was unnaturally pale, as though painted with plaster. Cracks of powder lined her brows where she had frowned, and her lips, scarlet as fresh blood, echoed the hue of her dress. Her eyes were a faded brown, so light they were nearly translucent, and when they swept across the crowd, people instinctively shrank back.
Behind her marched six prison guards, all clad in sharp black suits. Their dark presence framed her in contrast, making the crimson on her body flare even brighter.
Lucas's gaze shifted past her, toward the food factory looming behind. His instincts prickled. "So… she came through the pipeline," he murmured to himself.
Ethan Walker froze mid-sentence, his fiery speech cut short by her sudden arrival. The other three players with him exchanged uneasy glances.
"Who is she?" one whispered.
"No idea…" another muttered, shifting nervously.
"Best wait and see," the third said, though his voice shook.
The atmosphere tightened like a noose.
The hooked-nose enforcer on stage immediately forgot about Ethan's rebellion. Straightening his suit and tie, he jogged toward the crimson figure, bowing slightly, eager to greet her.
Every pair of eyes in the square followed her steps. Her chin tilted upward in practiced superiority, one hand poised elegantly, fingertips brushing the palm of the enforcer who reached out to guide her.
When she stepped onto the stage, her heels clicked against the boards. Her gaze fell upon the corpses sprawled in their pools of blood, their red mingling with hers. She gasped theatrically, raising her hand to cover her mouth.
"Oh, heavens! Do you people know nothing of order? Could you not at least clean the stage first?"
The enforcer blanched, sweat beading on his brow. He barked orders at the guards. They scrambled, dragging bodies away and scrubbing the bloodstains with trembling urgency.
The crimson woman glided forward, her steps deliberate, and leaned toward the microphone. The enforcer whispered in her ear, explaining what had transpired. Her pale eyes flicked to Ethan Walker. For a moment her stare pierced him, and he felt every hair on his body stand erect. His heart pounded violently, sweat chilling his back.
Then she looked away, dismissing him, and the enforcer humbly retreated behind her.
She flapped her hand lightly in front of her nose as if to sweep away a foul odor, then lowered her eyelids and faced the villagers. Her voice rang across the square, smooth yet poisonous.
"I have always kept watch over Verne."
She clasped her hands neatly at her stomach, bowing her head just enough to mock humility.
"And you… you are nothing but despicable criminals. The only reason you remain in the Lighthouse's shadow is because of our mercy. You should be grateful."
A ripple went through the crowd. At her words, the villagers lowered their heads, shame and guilt washing over their features. Lucas's eyes narrowed. He could see how easily they submitted, their spirits already broken.
Her expression softened at their obedience, her anger fading.
"We have made a great breakthrough," she declared solemnly, "in our research on intruders. That is why I risked coming to Verne today."
The villagers stirred uneasily.
"There is a flaw," she said, her tone grave, "in the intruder's very genes. A flaw that spreads like a virus to those around them."
Gasps swept the square. Panic rippled like waves across the people.
She raised her hand, pressing down to silence them before continuing.
"The intruders are among you. Anyone who comes into contact with them will be infected. In the Lighthouse, there is no room for the diseased. Contamination must be purged."
Fear exploded across the villagers. Mothers clutched children closer, men exchanged terrified glances. The thought of infection—banishment—gnawed at every heart.
Lucas clenched his jaw. His eyes fixed on her as cold fury rose inside him. "What a vile lie… and worse, they believe it without hesitation."
Ethan Walker stepped forward, his voice sharp with outrage.
"Don't believe her!" he shouted. "There's no such thing as a genetic virus! It's nothing but a lie to control you!"
The chatter of the villagers faltered. Silence pressed in as they turned their attention to Ethan.
The woman's translucent eyes found him again. This time, she didn't look away. Her gaze lingered, unnervingly calm.
Ethan raised his fists, his voice burning with conviction.
"There is no superiority or inferiority in genes! People are people. This so-called virus is a fabrication! Do not be afraid!"
His words were clear, passionate. But then the woman tapped a small device in her hand. A sharp click echoed, drawing all eyes back to her.
"Did you all see?" she asked softly.
Ethan faltered. "See… what?"
The villagers looked from her to Ethan with wide, confused eyes. Then she extended her finger, pointing directly at him.
"This is what infection looks like. Radical. Emotional. Rebelling against the Lighthouse. Longing for the outside world. All are symptoms of the genetic virus."
The effect was immediate. The villagers closest to Ethan and the other players recoiled in terror, stepping back, leaving a wide, empty space around them. A vacuum formed, isolating the four like they were lepers.
"No! That's not true!" Ethan cried, waving his arms desperately. "There is no virus! She's lying to you!"
But the woman's voice rose above him, smooth and commanding.
"Stay calm, everyone. The Lighthouse will protect you. As long as the intruders and the infected are captured, order will be restored."
The hooked-nose enforcer snapped his fingers, and the guards advanced toward Ethan and his companions.
The four players' faces twisted in disbelief and despair. The crowd's rejection cut deeper than the approaching weapons. Their allies had become their executioners.
"Is this world itself broken?" Ethan thought, horror clawing at his mind.
But fury soon replaced fear. His eyes blazed. He would not go down like this.
His hand dipped into his coat and emerged with a charred, blackened fragment. Without hesitation, he shoved it into his mouth and chewed.
> [Item: Burnt pulp of the Shao Shao Fruit]
[Type: Plot-related – Legendary]
[Duration: 10 minutes – immense power at great cost. Severe physical exhaustion upon expiry. Risk of total collapse.]
The bitter taste filled his mouth, and then his veins lit like fire. Flames burst from his fists, licking the air with searing heat.
"If order is to be restored, it will be by our own hands!" he roared.
With a surge of strength, he leapt skyward. His flaming fists swung downward, the air itself rippling with scorching pressure.
"Watch closely! THIS is my punch!"
The crowd gasped. Lucas felt the heat wash over him, singeing his skin even from afar. For a heartbeat, he believed Ethan might actually shatter the chains of Verne.
But then—
A buzzing sound filled Lucas's ears.
The colors around him dimmed. The sound of flames vanished.
In mid-air, Ethan froze. His body stiffened as though invisible wires had bound him. The fire in his fists extinguished in an instant. His eyes bulged, mouth opening in a silent scream as tiny red blotches spread rapidly across his skin.
Lucas turned toward the crimson woman.
The system's assessment burned in his mind.
> [Lighthouse Executive: Extraordinary Danger]
She smiled faintly, contempt curling her lips.
"Too dangerous," Lucas whispered, tightening his grip on the kitchen knife across his chest.
And the square trembled on the edge of bloodshed once again.
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