ALL NOVEL Chapter 274 Will D
Eir and Mist entered the dilapidated building cautiously, the smell of decay and filth assaulting their senses as soon as they stepped inside. The room was dimly lit by a single flickering candle, barely enough to pierce through the oppressive darkness that clung to the walls. The air was heavy, stagnant with despair, and the faint sounds of labored breathing reached their ears. The stench of decay and sickness assaulted their senses.
The sight before them was harrowing. Four women, each more broken than the last, lay sprawled across the filthy beds. The sight before them was horrifying—a wretched reflection of the Flint gang's cruelty. Their bodies were gaunt, skeletal frames barely covered by thin, tattered rags that did nothing to protect them from the cold. Their skin was pale and stretched thin over their bones, with dark bruises and sores marking the places where they had been bound to this nightmare where they had been abused and neglected. Eyes that should have been full of life were sunken, dull, and empty, like the eyes of corpses that had been forced to continue living. The air was thick with the smell of blood, sweat, and death, lingering like a suffocating blanket.
Mist approached the first woman, who lay closest to the door. The woman’s hair, once likely a rich color, was now matted and greasy, clinging to her gaunt face. Her breath came in shallow, uneven gasps, and her hands trembled uncontrollably. When Mist placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, the woman’s eyes fluttered open, revealing pupils that were glassy and unfocused.
“Can you hear me?” Mist asked softly, though she already knew the answer.
"Who... who are you?" the woman croaked, her voice barely more than a whisper, filled with the unmistakable tinge of hopelessness.
Eir knelt closer, her voice a low murmur, almost hesitant. "We’re not here to hurt you. What’s your name?"
The woman struggled to respond, each word seeming to cause her immense pain. "Alaya... my name... is Alaya." The words came out in a rasp, as if it took everything she had left just to say them.
Alaya’s cracked lips parted, and she let out a weak, pitiful moan. “Please…” she whispered, her voice barely audible, “please, make it stop. The pain… it’s too much… I can’t… I can’t take it anymore…”
Mist’s heart clenched at the words, but she kept her expression steady. “Are you sure?” she asked, wanting to give the woman a choice, no matter how futile it seemed.
Alaya’s eyes filled with tears, and she nodded slowly, her entire body shaking with the effort. “Please… I don’t want to live like this… just let me die…”
Mist didn’t hesitate. She turned to Eir, who nodded in understanding. Eir stepped forward, her fingers moving in a fluid, practiced motion as she cast a death magic sigil above the woman. The sigil glowed a faint, eerie green, hovering just above the woman’s chest.
The woman’s eyes widened for a moment, but as the sigil began to take effect, a sense of peace washed over her. The tension drained from her body, and her breathing slowed. The pain that had gripped her so fiercely began to fade away. A small, almost imperceptible smile crossed her lips as her eyes slid closed. Within moments, she was gone, her spirit finally free from the torment that had consumed her.
Eir and Mist exchanged a look before moving to the next woman. This one had bruises around her neck, evidence of a brutal attempt to silence her. She was barely conscious, her eyes rolling back in her head as she struggled to stay lucid. Her face disfigured by the scars of a recent beating, was already too far gone to speak. Her breath rattled in her chest, and blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. When Mist gently touched her arm, the woman jerked, her eyes snapping open in terror.
“Don…’t touch me… no more… please… make it stop… just let me go…” she begged, her voice a hoarse rasp.
Eir wasted no time. She cast the same sigil, and the woman’s breathing began to slow, her body relaxing as the pain ebbed away. It was only a matter of moments before her chest fell still, her life extinguished with a final, peaceful breath.
As two women passed away, the room grew colder, the presence of death thick in the air. The two who remained alive watched in silence, tears streaming down their gaunt cheeks as they witnessed the passing of their sisters. Their faces, though still young, were etched with lines of pain and suffering far beyond their years. They had been through hell, and now they were the only ones left.
Eir approached them, her expression softening. “Do you want to live?” she asked, her voice gentle yet firm.
The two women looked at her with hollow eyes, unable to form an answer. They had been stripped of everything—their dignity, their hope, even their desire to keep fighting. Yet something in them stirred, something dark and cold. They had lost their humanity, but they had gained something else: a desire for vengeance.
Eir watched as their eyes darkened, their pupils narrowing with the cold, consuming hatred that had been buried deep within them. It was a hatred that had been festering, growing stronger with every blow, every violation, every moment of torment and fear they had endured.
Eir didn’t need them to speak. The darkness in their eyes was enough. She knelt beside them, her hands moving in a fluid motion as she cast a new sigil—a powerful, inverted one that glowed with a brilliant white light. The light enveloped the two women, bathing them in a warmth they hadn’t felt in years.
Their bodies began to heal. The sores and bruises faded away, and their breathing grew stronger and steadier. The gauntness in their faces softened as color returned to their skin. They were still thin, still frail, but they were alive—truly alive for the first time since they had been taken by the Flint gang.
Mist knelt beside them, her gaze intense as she asked, “What are your names?”
The women looked at her, tears filling their eyes, but they couldn’t answer. Their voices had been stolen by the pain and suffering they had endured. Mist frowned slightly, then asked another question, one she knew would stir the fire that now burned within them.
“Do you want revenge?”
The two women didn’t speak, but their eyes said everything. They didn’t need to answer verbally. The cold, dark fire that burned in their gaze was answer enough. They had nothing left to live for but vengeance—vengeance against those who had stolen their lives, their hope, their future, and their humanity.
Eir and Mist stood, their expressions resolute. “We will help you,” Eir said softly, her voice like steel wrapped in velvet. “But know this: revenge will consume you if you let it. Use that hatred, that darkness, to fuel your fight. But don’t let it be the only thing you look forward to.”
The women nodded, their gazes locked on Eir and Mist, their new allies in the battle against their tormentors. The room was silent, save for the faint echoes of the lives that had been lost. Eir and Mist led the two women out of the building, the memory of their sisters still seemed fresh on their minds.
As the two girls stepped out into the night, the cold dusty air filled their lungs, and they felt a strange sense of renewal. They had chosen to live, not for themselves, but for the revenge that now coursed through their veins. The Flint gang and their boss Garik would pay for the pain that had been inflicted on the four, and Eir and Mist would be the instruments of their retribution.