The room was dark.
The air was stale, heavy with the lingering metallic stench spread across the entire room.
At its centre, a silhouette hung—
Crucified
Their arms spread wide, legs bound together, and their head lowered down.
Step.
Step.
Footsteps echoed across the cold metal floor, each sound sharp and deliberate, reverberating through the vast chamber.
Yet the figure on the cross did not react.
The figure stayed still, to the point it looked as if it were dead.
With a sharp click, the lights snapped on, brightening the large room and revealing everything in a merciless detail.
The one bound to the cross was a woman—naked.
Long crimson hair cascaded down her body, tangled and matted, clinging to her skin in dark, heavy strands. Dried blood darkened it, turning her hair into a dull, almost blackened hue in places.
It covered her entire body, her breasts, her back—masking parts of her form, yet it did nothing to hide the undeniable beauty of her slim, curvy body.
Her arms and legs were restrained by golden chains.
They weren't simply wrapped around her limbs—they were embedded into them, the metal sinking into her wrists and ankles.
The metal glowed in a magical, golden hue as unknown engravings on it pulsed along the surface. The skin near the chains looked scorched, as though it had been burned repeatedly.
The floor beneath her was stained red.
Organs and intestines lay scattered like discarded refuse.
It looked grotesque, as if multiple people had been killed there—tortured there.
But there was only one victim.
Despite the carnage—despite the blood, the organs, the sheer brutality of the scene—there was not a single wound on her body.
No scars.
No cuts.
And no signs of injury.
Only dried blood coating her skin.
"How are you?" a man in a lab coat asked casually, stepping forward into the light.
His voice was calm, relaxed—almost warm, as though he were greeting an old acquaintance.
"Long time no see."
His tone was light, almost friendly.
Silence.
He didn't expect an answer.
Two men stood behind him.
Their faces were blank, their eyes dull and unfocused. They wore identical expressions—empty, obedient.
"Extract her blood."
They moved immediately.
One of them dragged a large container forward and positioned it beneath her, aligning it perfectly.
The other man reached into his belt and drew out a dagger.
The blade was long and narrow, its surface etched with intricate golden patterns. As it left the sheath, it shimmered faintly.
He glanced up.
Her eyes were closed—unmoving, as if she were unconscious.
Despite her divine beauty—despite having a body that would've made any ordinary man drool—neither of them reacted.
There was no hesitation, no disgust, no desire.
Their expressions were empty.
Their movements precise.
Like machines.
The dagger flared with golden light as it pierced her abdomen.
At first, it stuck for a moment, vibrating faintly—before it finally slid in.
Slash.
Then another cut.
And another.
Blood poured freely, cascading down her body in thick streams, splashing into the container below with wet, dripping sounds.
"Even after all this…" the man in the lab coat murmured, his eyes gleaming with fascination.
"You still refuse to die."
His smile widened.
"If only your daughter were a—"
He stopped.
So did the other two men.
An oppressive dread flooded the room.
The air grew heavy—
Suffocating.
The temperature started to increase.
The two men stepped back, feeling the heat against their bodies.
Breathing became difficult, as though invisible hands were tightening around their throats.
The lights flickered.
Yet instead of fear, the man in the lab coat smiled.
"Finally responding, are we?" He chuckled, like he found the situation to be funny.
Slowly, the woman lifted her head.
Her eyes opened.
Dim golden eyes locked onto him.
Her eyes were dull, since she had grown used to this situation, grown frustrated with this drama for years.
"Don't even dare."
Her voice was hoarse.
Low.
But filled with restrained anger.
The man calmly reached into his pocket and pulled out a small object.
A small, pristine white bell.
As soon as he removed it, it glowed, and the air trembled faintly.
The dreadful presence vanished instantly, crushed beneath its glow.
The heat receded.
The pressure disappeared.
The woman's aura collapsed.
Her head slumped slightly as she gritted her teeth in frustration.
The man sighed in satisfaction.
"Don't worry," he said pleasantly.
"I'll find a use for them, too."
His expression soon turned disappointed.
"Such a shame she's human. I thought demons like you only birthed demons."
She finally snapped.
"HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"
The woman laughed.
Loud. Broken. Unhinged.
Her dim golden eyes brightened, burning with fury.
"IF YOU TOUCH EVEN A STRAND OF HER HAIR—
I WILL KILL YOU!!"
Her voice thundered through the room, rattling the lights and cracking glass.
"I WILL KILL YOUR ENTIRE FAMILY!
YOUR ENTIRE BLOODLINE!!
YOUR ENTIRE HYPOCRITICAL ORGANISATION!!!"
Her eyes ignited, shifting from gold to bright blood red.
She shouted, baring her sharp teeth, revealing her fangs.
Her expression was monstrous.
CLANK!
She tried to move, but the golden chains burned into her flesh, searing her wrists and draining her strength.
Then—
Her wounds slowly began to close.
Flesh knitting.
Skin restoring.
The dry blood covering her body disappeared—no, more like vapourised, turning into mist before vanishing entirely.
In a few minutes, her body was whole once again.
Seeing this, the man smiled—genuinely pleased.
"My family is dead." He said lightly.
"Thank you for reminding me."
He turned away, dismissing her words entirely.
"Take the container."
The men obeyed without hesitation.
He had more than enough blood for his experiments.
As he walked towards his lab—
Ring~
His phone vibrated.
He clicked his tongue and pulled it from his pocket, annoyed.
But when he saw the caller's name—
He stopped.
He picked up the phone and answered.
"What is it? If this isn't urgent, call me later."
For several seconds, there was silence.
Then—
"How is her condition?"
The voice on the other end was calm.
Heavy.
Authoritative.
"Tch. Again?" he scoffed.
"How many times have you asked me that?"
A soft chuckle came through the phone.
"Do you want me to come over there to ask you personally?"
The man stiffened.
"No."
Then he gave his report.
While talking, he stated an important point he had noted during the past few months.
"...Her regeneration is slowing down."
Pause.
"She's getting weaker," he continued.
The man on the other side didn't say anything for a while.
"Good," the voice said.
"Keep extracting her blood. She's stronger than any of us.
If not for the barrier…"
He stopped.
They both knew what that would imply.
"Remember one thing," the voice said quietly.
"Do not enrage her too much."
The man swallowed, realising he had done exactly that.
Not like that would stop him from infuriating her again.
"She has the Scarlett bloodline. One of the strongest bloodlines in her race."
The lad-coated man trembled—half terrified, half excited.
Because he possessed her blood.
If he could use it… control it…
But he was still far away from his goals.
"What about her sister?" He asked suddenly.
"I don't know," the man on the other side replied, his tone darkening.
Just remembering that monster was enough to make both of them uneasy.
"I cannot find any information on her."
The lab coat man rolled his eyes.
'Expected. If you could, then it would mean that she's already onto us.'
"Alright, continue your work."
The call ended.
"Tch. Ungrateful bastard."