The one retrieved from The Void

Vas crossed his arms, his gaze unyielding. "And?"

"And what?" The Sculpture shrugged, his teasing tone returning briefly before fading under Vas's glare.

"How's that going for him?" Vas said, his patience thinning.

"I have no idea," the Sculpture admitted, throwing up his hands in mock surrender. "I didn't join their little crusade, so I don't know much about their progress."

"Convenient," Vas muttered, his skepticism evident.

The Sculpture gave a weak chuckle. "Look, it's not like they share their plans with me. I'm just... me. Sorry for not being more helpful."

Vas straightened, his expression hardening. He turned without another word, walking past the Sculpture, who remained crumpled on the floor. The tension in the room hung in the air like a storm cloud.

"Aren't you going to kill me?" the Sculpture called after him, his voice a mix of curiosity and desperation.

Vas paused mid-step but didn't turn to face him. "Not really. I could've done that earlier, but I was curious about how your abilities worked. Now that I know, there's no further need to engage with you. Next time, though…" His voice dropped, the cold edge in his tone cutting through the air like a blade. "…instead of going for your creation, I'll simply go for your head."

The Sculpture flinched at the remark, the gravity of Vas's words sinking in. Vas resumed his stride without so much as a backward glance. "Let's go, Negotiator," he called, and the two figures disappeared into the shadows, leaving the Sculpture behind.

The room fell into an eerie silence, broken only by the faint crackling of the destroyed creature's remains. The Sculpture remained seated on the cold ground, staring after Vas as his words echoed in his mind. For the first time, he truly understood what the Negotiator had warned him about.

Vas was indeed a terrifying person.

"Are you seriously not going to kill him?" The Negotiator asked, his tone carrying a mix of disbelief and concern as he trailed behind Vas.

"No," Vas replied without hesitation, his voice calm but resolute. "There's no need for that."

The Negotiator furrowed his brow, his curiosity not so easily dismissed. "Then why didn't you just kill him from the beginning?" he pressed, his tone sharper now, tinged with frustration.

Vas glanced over his shoulder briefly, the faintest hint of amusement flickering in his gaze. "I figured he was using some special method to continuously summon his creations to life. I wanted to understand how he did it."

"And?" The Negotiator prompted, his curiosity piqued despite himself.

"He told me himself," Vas said, his expression unreadable, though there was a glimmer of interest in his eyes. "It's an intriguing concept."

The Negotiator tilted his head, clearly unconvinced. "Why would something like that be useful to you?"

"I have my reasons," Vas replied curtly, his tone leaving no room for further questioning.

With that, they continued walking in silence, the faint echo of their footsteps the only sound in the otherwise oppressive stillness. The path ahead led them to a massive hall, its size almost disorienting. Several open doors lined the walls, their gaping frames revealing empty cells. The stark contrast between the vastness of the hall and the tight, confined cells was unsettling.

The place was spotless. The walls gleamed unnaturally, as though they had been scrubbed clean of all evidence of life or conflict. No blood, no debris—just an unsettling, sterile perfection. It felt wrong. Every instinct Vas had screamed that this was no ordinary emptiness.

The Negotiator's gaze darted nervously around the space. "Where did all the prisoners go?" he muttered under his breath.

Vas, now coated in dried blood and grime from the earlier battle, looked entirely out of place in this pristine environment. His left sleeve was completely torn off, exposing cuts and bruises along his arm. His ragged appearance only served to highlight the eerie, unnatural order of the hall.

"Try not to make any noise," Vas said suddenly, his voice low and firm. His sharp eyes scanned the area, every fiber of his being alert. "Something's off about this place."

The Negotiator stopped mid-step, his body tensing. He could feel it now, too—a weight in the air, oppressive and charged with an unseen threat. Every sound, even their breathing, seemed to carry further than it should, echoing faintly in the unsettling quiet.

The two stood there for a moment, motionless, listening. The silence felt alive, like a predator waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Lily and the rest had managed to reach the first underground floor, navigating through the dimly lit maze-like structure using the directions given by that strange woman. The corridor they found themselves in was unsettlingly vast, its oppressive aura amplified by the flickering red light that intermittently cast distorted shadows on the walls. The cold, unfeeling grey of the metal-paneled walls, combined with the industrial rigidity of the space, made the air feel heavier, almost suffocating.

"This place feels off," Lily muttered, her voice echoing faintly.

"We need to be extra careful around here," Yuu warned, her expression uncharacteristically serious. She gestured further down the corridor, where the walls seemed to converge into the unknown. "Beyond this corridor is where they kept the inmates. It won't be safe."

Jason snorted, brushing off Yuu's concern with a lazy shrug. "Don't worry so much," he said, his voice light, almost cocky. "As long as we don't draw too much attention, we'll be fine. They're way too busy dealing with the riot and the guards to care about some random students wandering around."

"Well," Ken added, his hands shoved in his pockets, "he's got a point. We're small fish compared to what's going on up there."

Carmilla and Lily exchanged uneasy glances. Neither shared the same confidence as Jason or Ken. Their instincts told them that keeping a low profile might not be enough to save them from trouble. Too much had already gone wrong for them to assume they could simply slip by unnoticed.

"I don't like this," Carmilla said, her tone firm, her voice cutting through the flickering hum of the red light. "Stay quiet. We have no idea what's waiting for us down here, or how dangerous they are. Let's not make unnecessary noise."

"I agree," Lily chimed in. Her eyes darted nervously to the shadows that stretched and shifted as the lights flickered. "It's better to be safe than sorry."

A sharp, creaking sound echoed through the corridor, making them all freeze. It wasn't the kind of noise you could ignore. The source was a heavy door at the far end of the hallway, partially obscured in the gloom. Somehow, none of them had noticed it before, as if it had been hidden in plain sight.

The door swung open, revealing a figure stepping into the corridor. It was a woman—or at least, she seemed like one at first glance. Her black leather suit clung tightly to her form, but it was torn in several places, revealing hints of scarred skin beneath. Straps hung limply from her outfit, like broken restraints. Over her head, she wore a white cloth resembling a hood, though it was frayed and dirtied with age. Her eyes were completely covered by black leather strips similar to those dangling from her suit. She walked with an unnatural stillness, her hands clasped together in front of her chest, murmuring under her breath.

As she drew closer, more of her appearance came into focus. Her face was a map of pain, riddled with scars and cuts, with long, jagged lines descending from her covered eyes. Her lips were split and bruised, giving her an appearance both grotesque and tragic. Her murmurs grew louder, though the words were still unintelligible, a constant stream of reverence or madness.

"Why do we always end up running into the weird ones?" Lily blurted out, her voice breaking the tension in the air.

But to her shock, no one responded. She turned to look at her companions, only to feel her stomach twist. Something was wrong.

Carmilla was standing rigid, her cheeks flushed and a thin string of saliva trickling from the corner of her mouth. Ken and Jason wore similar expressions, their eyes glazed and their bodies trembling as though caught in a trance. Yuu was no better—she had collapsed to her knees, trembling violently as tears streamed down his face.

"What the—?" Lily whispered, panic creeping into her voice. "What's wrong with all of you?"

"That's strange," a voice said suddenly, cutting through the oppressive silence. The voice wasn't sweet or terrifying, nor was it soft or commanding. It existed somewhere in-between, unnervingly devoid of clear emotion or tone, making it impossible to place.

Lily whipped her head back toward the woman, who was now walking directly toward them. Though her eyes were covered, it felt as though her gaze pierced straight into Lily's soul.

"Why are you still the same?" the woman asked, tilting her head slightly to one side. Her steps slowed as she continued speaking, her murmurs ceasing. "Really strange indeed."

Her lips parted into a twisted smile, the scars pulling unnaturally at the corners. "Oh Lord," she cried suddenly, her voice ringing out in raw, manic desperation, "please show mercy on this woman for not recognizing how truly grand you are!" The words devolved into a guttural scream, echoing down the corridor like the wail of a banshee.