Any human who thinks they can, by their own petty cleverness, gain something from the Chaos Gods will eventually discover that they either fail completely, or receive what they desired in the worst possible form.
Those who sought immortality became nothing but rotting sludge, alive in endless torment.
Those who craved war found the blade of battle falling first upon their own heads.
Those who schemed endlessly became forever trapped in a maze of plots and lies from which they could never escape.
Those who lusted after fleshly pleasure, in their ecstasy, lost the ability to feel at all—and died in despair.
The Four Lords of Chaos each had their own traits, but shared one delight: savoring the corruption of the human soul, watching it fall from brilliance into despair.
Perhaps because of his obsessive love for his wife, Pastor Lynn, who had already been corrupted, miraculously regained a fragment of his human consciousness. He saw his daughter Maria, pierced and tormented, her face still faintly recognizable beneath the agony, marked by sorrow and guilt.
But when Pastor Lynn saw his wife Ruth, he could not help but show a joyous smile.
As a devout pastor of the Radiant Lord, he knew his actions were a heinous sin—but he had already taken this step. Even if it meant eternal damnation, he was determined to fulfill his wish: to take Ruth back from the Lord’s side, and to vent his fury against Him.
“Behold, the might of the Merciful Father!”
Half of his body already fused into the blasphemous altar, Green stretched his hands feverishly toward its peak.
It was like embracing, like weeping, like reveling!
Surrounded by corpses, the body of Lady Ruth, lying as though a sleeping beauty, suddenly sprouted countless fleshy buds across her back. Each writhed with its own awareness, burrowing into the blasphemous altar beneath her.
The sound of slurping and squirming filled the air as Ruth’s body rapidly decayed and mutated.
Her closed eyes snapped open under the violent stimulus.
Her corpse soon melted like white wax, oozing pus in red, yellow, white, and green streams that spread down the altar. As Ruth’s grotesque resurrection took place atop the altar, the structure—built of corpses, desecrating the divine—began to exude a twisted aura of life.
It was almost impossible to imagine: rot and life coexisting in a way that defied human understanding of existence!
“No… no, no, no!” Pastor Lynn’s hope was shattered. This was not resurrection at all!
He had been deceived by Green, believing Ruth would return whole. But the truth before him was cruel: his beloved had indeed returned, yet her soul was bound within the blasphemous altar, forced to suffer alongside the countless tormented souls trapped within.
And with the vigor of the Chaos-corrupted, she would endure this agony forever.
Pastor Lynn clutched his head in anguish, ripping away chunks of his own flesh.
“This… this wasn’t what you promised! Green, you lied to me!”
“Hahahaha! Pastor Lynn, I did not lie. Look at Lady Ruth—so beautiful, so magnificent! O Merciful Father, I sing Your praise! Your might allows even the lowliest mortal…”
With blood-red nails sharp as blades, Maria shredded the twisted limbs that had pierced her body. Seizing her chance, she sprang onto a writhing tentacle and launched herself at Green. Her long, agile legs struck the staff-sword in his hand, exploding his head like a crushed dog’s skull.
Her cold, frost-like face showed no change as she ripped the remaining writhing, alien limbs from her body, casting them aside before crushing them underfoot.
“Time to settle the score.”
Pain and blood loss left her vision blurred, but she disdainfully flicked away the rotten flesh clinging to her staff-sword. From her observation, she had already located the corrupted core of the living altar. Inside it, countless human souls were bound and tormented—among them, the soul of her mother Ruth. Follow current novᴇls on nοvelfire.net
The corpse-built altar had become a prison, locking every soul used as its material inside.
“Ruth! I will save you!”
Pastor Lynn, regaining reason only to see his wife’s soul trapped in eternal torment, collapsed into madness once more. Overcome by guilt, despair, and the shame of facing his daughter, he stumbled forward, throwing himself at the blasphemous altar like a man seeking his own destruction.
This spared Maria the effort. She watched him with complex eyes.
Hatred, grief, helplessness…
She had already accepted her fate, but she had not surrendered. To see her father—who had committed an unforgivable sin—fight at the edge of his sanity for the right cause… for Maria, it was a sorrowful kind of joy.
Corrupted by Chaos, Pastor Lynn’s grotesque body carried immense physical strength. Fueled by fury at his betrayal, his charge toppled the rising platform of flesh, crashing it down with a shockwave that forced Maria to shield her face from the fetid wind.
The clash of two Chaos-warped monsters was anything but pleasant to witness.
As they met, twisted limbs, flying flesh, and endless pus sprayed in all directions with Lynn’s rampage.
By comparison, Maria seemed like a mere dwarf, unable to truly intervene in such a battle.
But the nun had her own way.
With a sharp rip, Maria tore off her sleeves, revealing her pale arms. Then she drew deep cuts across her wrists with her sharp nails. As a Cainhurst Bloodkin, her command of blood was innate. Only a little blood spilled—but far more of it dispersed as pure bloodforce.
She knew her blood loss had already reached a dangerous threshold.
Her body resisted releasing more bloodforce. But to unleash it recklessly, she turned to the extreme: bloodletting to force her power forth!
Self-harm. Blood sacrifice. In exchange for more power!
Blood streamed like silken ribbons from her arms, forming shimmering tassels of condensed bloodforce.
“By the Blood of Cainhurst—I deliver upon you fiends the cruel punishment you deserve!”
With bloodforce surging around her, the black-clad nun charged without hesitation toward the Chaos-corrupted—and toward what had once been her father and mother.
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