Medea couldn’t help but doubt reality. Maybe her mind was just making up everything she was experiencing now.
She hoped that was the case.
But no matter how desperately she wished for it, she could clearly tell that she was awake. Everything she watched was what it was—Morwen stabbed Sylas repeatedly, not stopping even after the latter’s death.
The gruesome scene nauseated Medea so terribly that she closed her eyes and covered her lips with her hand.
But there was only so much senses she could block. The Sorceress’ hysterical laughter clearly echoed in her ear, enough to worsen her discomfort.
"He’s already dead. Now start skinning the other guy beside you if you don’t want me to skin you alive," Thirteen ordered.
Morwen flinched and hurriedly apologized to Thirteen before planting her hand on Theron’s chest.
Thirteen had already destroyed the Spearman’s armor, so Morwen’s knife easily stripped the young man of his clothes so she could skin him alive.
"What an ugly thing. You’re about to be skinned alive, yet this part of yours is still so lively, huh?" Morwen looked at Theron’s manhood. "Did you get excited after I touched it by accident? If your gaze can make girls pregnant, Medea would have gotten pregnant a thousand times already. You’re really one horny dog aren’t you?"
Morwen knew that Theron had a one-sided crush on their Saintess, just like Neil.
Actually, she even wanted to support the Spearman. After all, if he and Medea became a couple, she could be together with Neil without any hindrances.
But she didn’t like Theron as a person either—he was lecherous.
Whenever their party was in town, he would sneak out to go to a brothel or any other pleasure quarter to spend the night.
Simply put, Morwen was disgusted with him and had long entertained the idea of cutting off or burning his manhood for good on several occasions.
"You b*tch!" Theron shouted. "Get your hands off me!"
"I see. So you still don’t understand your situation, huh?" Morwen sneered. "I’ll guess I’ll start with this place first!"
The Sorceress raised her dagger and stabbed the Spearman’s family jewels, making the latter scream like a pig that was about to get slaughtered.
"I’ll kill you!" Theron shouted. "I’LL KILL YO—ARGGGHHH!"
Medea laughed as she stabbed Theron’s thigh, enjoying his scream as blood gushed out of his body.
"Oh right. I’m supposed to skin you." Morwen sneered. "I’ve never skinned someone before, so I’m sure that this is going to hurt."
"Just kill me!" Theron shouted. "Kill me already!"
Knowing survival was impossible and living longer just meant more suffering, Theron tried to bite his tongue. But just like what Morwen had done to Sylas, she had cast a paralyzing spell on him, preventing him from committing suicide.
The first part Morwen tried to slice sideways was Theron’s abdomen.
She had always been curious about what it looked like without the flesh covering the muscle.
The blade cut sideways across Theron’s abdomen, skin parting with a sickening rip.
Blood welled up as Morwen forced the knife deeper, peeling flesh back to reveal the raw muscle beneath.
"Ahhh, so this is what it looks like," Morwen whispered, her voice trembling with a mixture of fascination and sadistic joy. "It’s just a lump of meat."
Theron screamed, his voice cracking into a ragged shriek that echoed in the plaza.
He was paralyzed, but he wasn’t numb to the pain.
Skinning someone alive for the very first time, Morwen was crude, so the pain continuously intensified as the young lady, whose hands were now fully covered in blood, clumsily slid the knife underneath his skin.
Thirteen had also used his Mind Domination on the Sorceress, so she wouldn’t feel queasy at the sight of blood.
Despite her strong resistance to mind-controlling abilities, she was no match for Thirteen, who easily overpowered her senses as soon as she lost all her will to escape.
As Morwen continued her work with fascination, Neil once again rose from the ruins.
His left arm hung limply at the side of his body, but his right hand was still firmly holding the handle of his holy sword.
Blood flowed from the side of his face, and yet, he still looked like a Hero about to turn everything to his favor.
"Damn you!" Neil shouted as light gathered on the blade of his sword. "I’ll never forgive you!"
"I don’t need your forgiveness," Thirteen replied, not even bothering to look in Neil’s direction.
The more a Hero was injured, the more powerful he became. Usually, that was how things proceeded in Fate’s script.
But Thirteen wasn’t afraid.
He had long wanted to know how it would feel to kill a Hero, and this was a good opportunity to see what it felt like.
"D-Don’t!" Medea shouted. "Stop it, Neil! You’re no match against him!"
"Medea, I love you," Neil said firmly, while channeling all of his strength into his blade. "I love you!"
"I’ll rate it seven out of ten on the confession chart," Mist commented from the side. "So, how will you answer him, Ms. Saintess? That Hero is going to die soon, you know?"
Thirteen glanced at Medea before shifting his attention to Neil. A part of him was also curious about how the Saintess would respond to the Hero’s confession.
Medea bit her lip as she looked at the Hero with tears streaming down her eyes.
"I’m sorry," Medea replied. "I only thought of you as a friend. I’m sorry, Neil."
"Awwwww." Mist said in a teasing tone. "You should have just lied. Just look at him. He looks hurt... um, maybe not?"
Neil had a resigned smile on his face, having expected this answer.
Medea had mentioned her lack of interest in having a romantic relationship with anyone several times in the past, citing that her calling was to become a servant of the Goddess, Valoria.
Still, Neil made sure to say his feelings, not wanting to have any regrets.
Just like what the Saintess had said earlier, he was no match against Thirteen, and only death awaited if he were to fight him.
Even so, he decided to fight because this was his calling.
He knew that if he ran away now, he would be running away forever.