Chapter 162: Chapter 162: Corrupted Crest

Matthew managed to parry the claw just in time. Metal rang sharply as his sword intercepted the attack.

The creature’s red eyes locked onto him, unblinking and eerie. In their glassy surface, he saw something he wished he had not. Flames. Charred silhouettes. Human bodies twisting in fire.

"The hell are you?" he muttered. It felt pointless to ask.

The monster stared back, but there was no reaction, no shift of its expression. Nothing resembling human intent. Not even killing intent. Just a hollow, watching hunger.

His stomach dropped. This one was not alone.

The second creature lunged from behind. Its arms split apart into writhing, blood-colored strings that whipped through the air at terrifying speed.

"Too fast," he hissed.

Matthew kicked the first monster away, spun, and slashed desperately as the strings snapped toward him like living wires. Each strike cut through several, but more kept coming, multiplying faster than he could sever them.

"Shit!" he barked as the strings wound around his sword, climbing up his arm and burning hot like heated wire.

He gritted his teeth, dropped his weight back, and yanked a dagger from behind his waist. With one sharp sweep, he sliced through the bindings.

He jumped back, boots scraping against the stone floor, lungs burning as he forced distance between them.

"What is actually happening here?" he demanded, eyes flicking between the two creatures. "What are you planning?"

"Punishing. Punish every sinner in this world."

The voice echoed from the darkness. A figure slowly stepped into the faint light with a cold, almost serene smile.

Mika. The village chief.

Only he looked younger now, sharper around the edges, as if something had peeled away years from his face. Matthew’s blood ran cold.

"You..." Matthew’s voice dropped. "What did you let out of that stone?"

Mika chuckled softly. "Is that important?" He moved in front of the monsters like he was greeting old friends.

"The child soldier. The child who killed his father to protect his mother. Your life is truly pitiful."

Matthew’s grip tightened. "Shut your mouth."

"Isn’t it better if I purge your sins?" Mika continued. "You could live again, clean and new."

"Like your villagers?" Matthew spat. "Empty. Controlled. Barely human."

"Yes. It is the will of the False God."

Mika raised his hand, and a glowing circle bloomed under Matthew’s feet. The symbols twisted like moving veins.

"And you," Mika murmured, voice heavy with ritual, "will make a far better sacrifice than my followers. This is an offering for the new world."

***

Andrew stood at the entrance of the mining area, staring into a darkness so deep it looked alive. There was no lighting at all. The mouth of the mine felt like an abyss ready to swallow them without a sound.

Only now did he understand the truth. The red glow they saw earlier was not light. It was a mist. Spores. Thick enough that they could see the haze drifting out like a slow, poisonous breath.

And all of it came from inside the mine.

Dylan swallowed loudly beside him. "Oh, hell no."

Maria narrowed her eyes. "All the red strings I see are connected to something inside. Probably the statue."

"Then we go in," Andrew said. He turned to Dylan. "If you are scared, you can wait here. If something happens to us, go back to the orphanage and tell Bianca."

Dylan balled his hands into fists. Determination flashed in his eyes. "No. I am coming. I told you to bring me, so I am not going to act like the coward of the group. Also, it’s safer when we are together, guys."

"Remember the number one rule of horror movies, don’t ever be separated from the group!"

Before Andrew could reply, a loud horn-like sound erupted from deep inside the mine.

HOONNGG.

The earth seemed to vibrate with it. The sound made the hair on Andrew’s arms stand up.

"Oh fuck," Dylan whispered, but he still stepped forward.

They walked inside, following the trail of countless footsteps stamped into the dirt. The deeper they went, the louder the distant chanting became.

It sounded like dozens of voices echoing together, calling something from the depths of the earth.

The red mist grew thicker around them, but it was not only mist anymore. Strings of red clung to the walls and ceiling. The mine looked like a den built by spiders with too much time on their hands.

They soon reached the lift. The air was tense. Dylan kept staring at the shadows as if they would leap out at him at any moment.

The lift creaked and rattled as it took them down. The chanting rose, clearer and louder, until the voices sounded like they were right beside them.

Once they reached the bottom, they saw everything. Torches lit the cavern walls, and dozens of candles burned in front of a giant statue head.

Pitch black stone. Red crystal eyes. The same shape as the creatures in the forest.

Andrew froze. Those eyes were pulsing. He could feel a strange force crawling under his skin when he looked at them. It was as if those eyes were conscious.

The villagers were kneeling in front of the statue, worshipping like fanatics. Their shadows moved too fast on the walls, as if something else was controlling their bodies.

Mika stood at the center with the same two monsters from the forest. In front of them was a table made of clay. Matthew lay on it, his body wrapped in countless red threads that writhed like worms.

Maria covered her mouth. "Matthew’s body... those strings are alive. We need to help him."

Andrew nodded. "I agree. But you do not want them dead, so tell me what you want."

Maria hesitated. "I know some will die. I am not naive. But try harder not to kill them."

Andrew sighed and ruffled her hair. "I will try. Come on, Dylan."

Dylan flattened himself against the wall. He looked like a terrified lizard waiting for a chance to run.

Andrew grabbed him by the collar and dragged him along.

The villagers did not react at all. They kept praying in rapid, jerky motions.

Mika finally turned toward them. "Ah, the three of you came. Perfect. You will witness the awakening of the new God of this world."

Andrew understood then. The crest had a will of its own. Everyone here was infected by it.

The red strings were proof, a twisted version of Dominion Bloodstyle or Psyche Bloodstyle. Mika’s rejuvenated appearance confirmed it. The stone was feeding him. Or the False God was.

Andrew drew the bone sword from his arm and pointed it straight at Mika. "Stop this. I will kill everyone here if I have to. Your God will not be pleased. The crest is just a tool to punish vampires. Nothing more."

Mika laughed. "Young man, can you not see their devotion? They are free from their sins. I purged them. I will purge you as well."

He pointed at Dylan. "The coward. The one who killed his friends in a dream. You lived while they burned. The guilt is eating you alive. Yet you pretend to walk without chains?"

Dylan stiffened. "You are lying! I did not kill them! Seamus did. Punish him, not me!"

Mika stepped forward. His speed blurred. One moment he stood near the statue, the next he was right in front of Dylan.

"Which dream caused their deaths? Which mind created the nightmare that trapped them?" Mika tilted his head. "It was yours."

Dylan’s face went pale. He stumbled back. "No. No, it was not—"

"Poor child, beaten by a mother who murdered her husband. She fed his flesh to you. Your father is inside you even now, screaming. Unable to move on."

Dylan gagged. His whole body lurched before he collapsed to his knees and vomited violently. Hot blood splattered across the stone, followed by chunks of something soft and pale.

The smell hit him first. Copper and rot. His breath hitched and he threw up again.

The flesh twitched.

It quivered, pulling itself together like something remembering it once had form. It rose into a half-shaped face Dylan knew too well. The eyes moved, unfocused and wet.

"Dylan... help me, son... hurting... pain..." the mouth formed slowly, the voice thick like it came from underwater.

Dylan’s hands clawed at the ground. A broken sob tore out of him as his stomach heaved again. "No... father... this is impossible..."

"Dylan, get a grip!" Andrew shouted. "It is an illusion! This is not real!"

But Andrew’s voice faltered. He hesitated, cold dread sinking into his spine as he watched the half-face twitch and whisper Dylan’s name again and again.

Based on his observation, the crest was indeed corrupted. He remembers how his son used the power of the Emblem of Enigma to punish a vampire.

It was gold, shining, and clear like the divine retribution should be. But the red eyes in front of him were heavy and dark. As if it would drag him into the deepest of abyss.

And that thing might be able to twist reality.