The echo of that monstrous roar hadn't yet faded from the narrow alley when Kaine, like a cornered leopard, hurled himself against a half-rotted wooden door and dragged Sera through it by force.
Behind them, dozens of townsfolk wrapped in black mist advanced in perfect unison—as if pulled by invisible strings. Their synchronized footsteps made Kaine's scalp prickle.
Empty sockets turned toward the mouth of the alley. From those hollow throats came a chorus of overlapping whispers—men, women, children, all merged into one chilling murmur:
"...We're hungry."
This was a forgotten back alley, thick with the stench of rot and dust.Rubble and shards littered the ground, each step threatening to betray them with a fatal sound.
Kaine's eyes flashed, swiftly surveying the terrain.The left wall had collapsed halfway, exposing a pitch-black gap where a staircase seemed to descend toward the old clock tower's foundations.The right was a dead end, blocked by a heap of half-rotten coffins, their lids half-open, reeking of ancient decay.
Without hesitation, Kaine shoved Sera toward the breach on the left, his voice low but sharp:
"Get in—hide!"
The girl turned back in terror, only to see Kaine hadn't followed.
He stopped abruptly, spun around, and faced the oncoming "crowd."
His movements were lightning-fast. Two fingers pressed together, a wisp of faint gray energy coiling around his fingertips—the soul essence he had just harvested.
Without pause, he thrust that essence into a puddle of black, stagnant water at his feet.
The [Wailing Veil] within him trembled faintly, resonating with the essence.
Ripples spread across the puddle, and then—reflected in that murky surface—appeared not the sky nor the walls, but countless twisted faces, silently screaming, writhing, drowning.
A heartbeat later, chaos erupted.
The puppets at the mouth of the alley halted mid-charge—then, as if magnetized, turned sharply and surged toward the puddle.They stretched out withered hands, clawing at the reflections, their whispers rising in a frenzy. It was as if that filthy water held prey far more delicious than Kaine himself.
Cold sweat slid down Kaine's temple. His heart pounded as realization dawned.
His harvesting had left a trail—like a beast marking blood scent in the forest.Every wail he had drawn out, every fragment of despair, had become a beacon in this cursed land.
The presence buried beneath the dead town could trace those psychic echoes, puppeteering the enslaved corpses to hunt down the "thief" who had stolen its food.
He turned and slipped through the gap in the wall, crouching beside Sera.One hand covered her mouth, the other gripped her trembling shoulder.
"Don't make a sound," he breathed into her ear. "And don't—look into their eyes."
They hid in the cellar formed from the clock tower's collapse.It was deeper than expected, filled with rusted bronze ritual bells—some the size of barrels, others no bigger than fists—each etched with ancient, worn sigils.The dim light filtering from the breach above illuminated only a small patch; beyond that, there was darkness thick enough to drown in.
Scratching noises and soft, tooth-aching whispers echoed from above, but the puppets, still drawn to the puddle, hadn't noticed their hiding place.
Sera shivered like a leaf in a storm, teeth chattering. Through her fingers she peeked at Kaine's unnervingly calm face and whispered through tears:
"Those... things... were they always here?"
Kaine didn't answer immediately.
He closed his eyes, sinking his senses into the [Wailing Veil].
In his mind's eye, the entire Silent Town shimmered with a fog of emotions—despair, pain, resentment—pulsing in slow, rhythmic waves, like the breathing of a sleeping giant.
Old Bart's words struck him like lightning:
"In this town, no one dares to speak of eating."
And the inscription beneath the goddess statue in the square:
"Offer the Wail, and life shall continue."
The pieces snapped together.
This place—was once a living altar.The townsfolk had offered human sacrifices, feeding their kin's final despair and agony to an ancient god's lingering will, sustaining the town's fragile existence.
When the god perished, the ritual didn't fade—it fossilized into bloodline and memory, a collective subconscious that maintained itself.Unknowingly, the townspeople kept "feeding" one another; the remnant kept "feeding" on them.
An ecosystem of emotion, perfectly balanced—until last night.
By reaping those souls, Kaine had stolen from the god's table.Now, the starving remnant was coming to reclaim its meal.
Kaine's eyes snapped open, cold light gleaming within.
"They didn't come to us," he murmured. "We... walked into its stomach."
They had to escape.
But the entire town was the creature's feeding ground. Any direct route was suicide.
His mind raced.If that thing tracked by "wails"... then what if he created a stronger, louder, more chaotic wail than himself?
He signaled Sera to stay quiet and curl up behind the mountain of bells.Then, silent as a shadow, he crawled out through another vent in the cellar, slipping toward the square.
From his pocket, he took the last half-bag of dried rations, tearing it open.The scent of grain and salted meat drifted into the air.
He focused a sliver of soul essence—barely detectable—and pricked the subconscious of a sleeping old woman nearby, awakening her primal hunger.
One minute. Two.
Suddenly, three puppets convulsed violently. Their heads snapped toward the drifting scent.They broke formation, lunging forward like starving beasts, tearing at the food scraps Kaine had tossed out.
When the meat ran out, they turned on each other—biting, clawing, rending.An arm was torn free; a throat crushed. The air filled with feral screams.
[Soul Essence +1.8 strands!]
The cold system chime rang in Kaine's mind.His lips curved into a thin, ruthless smile.
It worked.
As the three puppets tore each other apart, the others stirred restlessly. Their empty eyes darted between Kaine's direction and the chaos—drawn irresistibly toward the stronger despair.
They weren't perfectly controlled puppets; they were like ants driven by pheromones, swarming to the loudest emotional signal.
Kaine's eyes gleamed.
He repeated the process, igniting one psychic beacon after another—five in total.
A dried well that held the bones of dead children, steeped in mothers' grief.A ruined shrine where the sacrifice lotteries once took place, bricks saturated with the terror of the chosen.
Each site erupted into an emotional storm.
Soon, Silent Town descended into utter madness.Black mist roiled like a tide. Screams, wails, and the cracking of bone intertwined into a macabre symphony.
Now!
Kaine darted back to the cellar, grabbed the near-fainting Sera, and fled toward the barren northern path leading out of town.
But as he ran, he felt her temperature rising—burning hot.
He looked down under the moonlight—and froze.Fine purple veins, like spiderwebs, spread beneath the skin behind her ear.
[Warning: Target individual receiving unknown spiritual imprint.Purity level too high—classified as "Prime Vessel."]
The words struck him like a funeral bell.
He understood.
Sera—the outsider—was likely the only uncorrupted soul left in this cursed place.To the starving remnant, she was the perfect offering.
By the time they reached the twisted tree at the town's edge, Kaine was near collapse.
Then Sera's trembling ceased.
Her eyes opened—pitch black, bottomless, reflecting no light.
And from her lips came a chorus of many voices, layered and rasping:
"You cannot take... the offering.""You are... the new... vessel."
Kaine's scalp went numb.
Before he could react, Sera's fingers elongated into five translucent black threads, whipping toward his back with a hiss.
In that instant of mortal danger, Kaine's instincts surged.He roared, unleashing every ounce of soul essence he'd stored.
Shadows wove around him, forming a membrane of countless screaming visages.
A sound like cracking ice rang out as the threads struck—and shattered.
Sera screamed, a terrible, inhuman cry, and collapsed.Just before losing consciousness, clarity flickered in her eyes. With her last breath, she whispered:
"...Help me... don't... look at the moon."
Kaine turned, gasping.
Above them, a blood-red crescent moon had risen—silent, malignant, bathing Silent Town in its glow.
The rooftops, glistening in crimson light, looked as though they were submerged in a vast pool of blood.
He didn't look again.
Lifting the unconscious girl onto his back, Kaine set off toward the horizon—toward the faint, distant lights of a place called Graythroat Town.
His fists clenched until his knuckles turned white.
The memories of pursuit, betrayal, and horror flickered through his mind—and finally, stopped on Sera's tormented face.