---
On a high cliff overlooking Cerberus Square, Yaman and Fernando were behind a rock, watching.
Yaman's fists dug into the obsidian boulder, his knuckles white, fingers trembling. Below, the Cerberus square was a living nightmare. Torches flickered over crucified bodies, their ragged forms twisting in the heat, shadows dancing grotesquely across the volcanic rock. Lava spilled in molten rivers, hissing as it consumed discarded corpses.
Fernando's hand pressed firmly on Yaman's shoulder. "Watch closely. Every movement, every face. Not a sound, Yaman. Not yet."
Yaman's gaze swept across the square. A dark magician laughed as he tore open a bound woman, her screams slicing through the volcanic night. Another gambler grinned, tossing a boy into a molten fissure like a coin. "Annoying little brat," he muttered, spitting blood and laughter. Yaman's stomach churned.
"Father…" Yaman's voice trembled. "How can they…?"
"They are monsters," Fernando said quietly, voice low but sharp. "But monsters can be studied. Wait for the moment, then strike."
A cheer erupted as a gambler dragged a beautiful woman onto a platform. Another magician quipped, "Looks like tonight's prize isn't just coins—someone's virginity too!" The crowd laughed, some spilling beer over corpses for sport. The smell of blood, smoke, and alcohol mingled, thick and suffocating.
Yaman's hands clenched into fists. "This… this is worse than anything I've imagined."
Fernando's eyes were cold steel. "And it will be worse if we act recklessly. Remember, every action has consequences."
On the execution platform, the butcher, his wife, and their daughter were bound tightly. Their faces pale, terror carved into every line. The little girl clung to her mother, sobbing silently. A priest with horns and blackened eyes climbed up and intoned:
"Lord Zeref has chosen these three! Sacrifice them, and let the darkness claim their souls!"
The crowd joined, chanting in unison, their voices sickeningly jubilant. "Zeref! Zeref! Zeref!"
Yaman's teeth ground together. "Father, if they touch her…" His voice broke. "I'll tear this whole place apart!"
Fernando's grip on his son's shoulder tightened. "Then wait, Yaman. Let them feel safe. Watch. Learn. We strike when the chaos is perfect."
A dark magician nearby picked up a screaming child, grinning, and pressed a knife to the boy's throat. "Quiet now, little one, or it'll be messy!" He laughed, blood dripping down his chin. "I love messy."
Yaman's stomach roiled. He wanted to scream, to leap down and tear them apart. But Fernando whispered, cutting through the roar of the square:
"Not yet. Patience. Every second counts."
Across the square, the shadowed figure on the throne leaned forward, a sinister grin on his face, watching his minions kill, rape, and gamble with human lives. His voice was a low chuckle:
"Fools! Every scream, every tear… it's fuel. Delicious, isn't it?"
"Fuel for your own damnation," Yaman muttered under his breath.
The hourglass glowed red, sand slipping inexorably toward death. Crucified bodies at the edges writhed and twisted in the volcanic light, their agony a macabre entertainment for the revelers. Some dark magicians threw firebrands at the corpses for fun. "See how they dance!" one shouted. "Like marionettes in Hell!"
Fernando's voice was calm but iron-sharp. "Yaman… remember, the moment will come. Not now. Let them play with death, let them think themselves gods. And then… we take it all away."
Yaman's rage and fear coiled tightly in his chest, ready to erupt. His eyes, reflecting the glow of lava and firelight, never left the little girl on the platform. He whispered under his breath:
"This… this ends tonight."
Above, the volcano rumbled, molten sparks flying into the night, as if the mountain itself was preparing for war. The cries, the laughter, the screams—they all blended into a symphony of madness. And somewhere in the shadows, father and son waited, ready to descend into hell itself.
--