An Eldritch Legacy: Sin & Sacrilege

Krael relished the terror in their eyes, the fear crawling up their spines as they descended into realization.Ahh... the euphoria was something else.

He wondered why he hadn't indulged in this more often. He should enjoy these moments, again and again. Now that he'd tasted what it meant to have pets… he wanted more—more—all for this moment.

He watched them plead within the butler's dome, squirming, begging for mercy—crying out about their families, claiming they were only here for the coin.Some swore this was their first job. Others offered loyalty or information about the one who had sent them.Ironic.

So many words… and yet, it all felt bland.

The thrill—the feeling—was fading. He didn't want it to end. He couldn't allow it.

So he gave them a chance. Maybe it would deepen their fear, and rekindle his euphoria.

"Who wants to play a game?" he asked, smiling.

Confusion spread across their faces.Some of the sharper ones… understood.

They waited.

"Play my game, and though I won't promise you your lives… that was forfeit the moment you stepped onto my property."He sneered."Peasants... it's always the peasants," Krael grumbled.

His words had an unexpected effect.

Some mercenaries welcomed swift death.Others despaired.Some became numb, others defiant.A few decided to take him down with them.

It was delightful. The feeling returned. Things were back on track.

"The game," Krael continued, "is called Steal the Muffin."

He laughed softly."I'm going to send this peasant girl into the dome. Your goal? Steal the muffin basket my butler gives her. I've made sure there are enough muffins for all twenty of you."

"Whether she dies or not? Not my concern. Handle it, however, you wish. Her task is simple—end your lives swiftly while she protects the basket holding her lifeline."

"Isn't it brilliant?"

The horror on their faces was something he'd never forget.

They looked at the girl—no older than eight—and for a brief moment, they thought she had it worse than them.

But who were they to feel pity? Hardened by life, and shaped by cruelty, they had no luxury for sympathy. Killing an innocent? It was destiny—not their fault. She had only her birth to blame.

They were unwilling executioners, chasing the chance for a clean death.

The girl's face remained expressionless.Her eyes were hollow, soulless.

Some felt pity. She looked broken, barely human.What horrors had the count inflicted to make her this way?

Krael didn't care for their assumptions. He gestured, and Adler presented a basket of muffins—strangely scented, like hot flowers.

Beside it, a dagger. Finely crafted, light enough for the girl to wield.Elegant. Deadly. Krael would have preferred it bigger and heavier so that she struggled with it—but that might kill her too soon.

He handed the items to the girl's malnourished hands—so delicate, Krael felt he could snap them with the slightest pressure.

He bent down, eyes meeting hers.

For the first time, Krael felt taller than life.Is this how the tall see us? he mused. The sensation lifted his mood, softening some of the cruelty he had planned.

But she had still slighted his pride.And that lesson would be written in blood. Maybe the next time she addresses him, there would be better ways to speak to her young lord.

"Now go," he said, voice soft, almost fatherly."Be a good little girl. Make sure you collect their hearts for your master… and maybe a few of their heads. That part's up to you. These… will determine whether you live to serve me."

"Very important to complete your almost failed awakening. We wouldn't wish to have you become a defective good now, would we?"

His tone was gentle as if sending a daughter off to school.But instead of encouraging her to study hard, he was instructing her on how to carve out chests.

The girl, still nameless, looked into Krael's eyes and spoke.

"It will be done."Her voice was as blank as her gaze.

Krael didn't mind. Not today. He was in too good of a mood to care for her lack of emotion.

He'd find other ways for her to pay, she thought

She hadn't expected this.After her parents' death, she never imagined she'd be the one sending others to their graves.

But deep inside... there was excitement.The thought of bringing death onto others gave her comfort, like the warmth of her mother's arms.

Curiosity stirred for the first time since her awakening.Her lips twitched into the slightest, almost invisible smile—a jarring contrast to her lifeless eyes.

She stepped toward the rippling dome.

She didn't ask how to wield a blade, or how to cut out hearts.Even now, she refused to seek help from her captors.

She would figure it out.And if she died, so be it. At least she'd join her mother.

But something told her... she might enjoy living much more—if she survived this.

Inside the dome, the mercenaries watched her with desperate eyes.

Surprisingly, none of them attacked immediately. There was only a single man in front of her, his form large, muscles tight, his expression ferocious.

She looked back—Krael's smile lingered.She had a few guesses why.

But it didn't change her resolve.

She held the blade—it felt heavier than expected, more beautiful than the kitchen knives she'd once used at home.

Naturally, she held it like a kitchen knife after all; where would a peasant, no less a girl like her, get the chance to hold more or less look at one?

She barely had time to adjust when a blow smashed across her face, sending her flying—bouncing off the dome.

Pain exploded in her skull. Blood ran from her nose, hot and thick.

Some bones had cracked. Her vision blurred.

She wiped the blood, staring at her hand.Then she froze.

The blood wasn't red.

It was crystalline gray, shimmering with shifting undertones.Alien. Beautiful.Her blood had never been this color.

Had it changed? Had the grave heads done this?

She didn't understand. Her thoughts swirled, and she didn't notice the man—the one who had struck her—approach again.

He grabbed her by the hair, lifting her off the ground.

Her entire weight hung by her malnourished hair. It burned. It humiliated.

Insulted. Violated.A tide of emotion surged in her emptiness.

One thought echoed.

Kill him.

She didn't hesitate. She did what came naturally to any other in such moments.

She swung.