Jack took a deep breath. Feeling the new power settling into his bones. He summoned his information panel with a thought. The translucent screen shimmered into existence before his eyes.
[Attributes: Physique (95) Mysticism (95) Passion (95) Essence (99)]
He noted the changes. Each of his three primary attributes... [Physique], [Mysticism], and [Passion]... had increased by two points. It was quite a significant improvement. He was approaching the upper limits of the enhanced transcendent being's quality.
He looked over at Reina. She was checking her handguns. Her expression was calm and practical. But there was a new depth to her gaze. Her illusion power should have been improved even further.
"How is it, Love?" Jack asked.
"Similar to before, Dear." She replied. Holstering her weapons and walking over to him. She tucked a strand of black hair behind her ear and smiled. "Greater mastery over my illusion."
Jack looked toward the back of the throne hall. There was a set of heavy iron doors there. It would likely lead them to the last devil. Or to the holding cells for the missing children.
Barnaby approached them. Looking sheepish as he wiped sweat from his brow. "Jack... Reina. We owe you big time for this. That thing... I've never seen or faced anything like it. Thank God you were here."
"Are you all alright now?" Jack just smiled and replied with a question. "We still have one devil to handle and children to find."
Barnaby looked at the others. They have recovered. Mostly.
"We're fine." High Priest Mountaine answered gloomily. "Let's go."
...
The group moved together.
Rune acted as a silent, glowing beacon. Drifting ahead. Her light pulsed with a cool, steady blue. Leading them deeper into the dungeon's cold embrace.
The air grew heavier. Thick with a metallic tang that made the back of Jack's throat sting. It was the smell of blood. A strong one that seemed to seep into the very rock.
The passage opened into a vast chamber. Jack halted. His senses were immediately assaulted with uncomfortable sensation.
Reina gripped his arm. Her knuckles were white. The others behind them gasped. Some recoiled. Others stared in horrified disbelief. Riff even showed signs that he was about to faint.
This was not a throne room. Nor was it a simple antechamber. This was an abattoir.
In the center, a massive, crude altar dominated the space. It was a slab of dark, unpolished stone. Slick with what looked like dried fluid. Runes were carved deep into its surface. Glowing faintly with a malevolent, reddish hue. Pulsing like a diseased heart.
Around the altar, ritual circles were etched into the floor. Filled with runic symbols that spoke of dark pacts and forbidden sorceries.
Four elaborate braziers stood at the cardinal points. They were empty now. But their blackened insides hinted at countless fires they used to host. They smelled of ash and burnt offerings. A sickening, sweet odor that clung to the air.
But it was not the architecture that stole their breath. It was the contents of the room. Piles... Piles of bones. Piles of flesh.
They were scattered carelessly. Like discarded butcher's waste. Skulls and rotten head, small and fragile, stared with thwir hollow eye sockets. Chopped limbs, rib cages, tiny femurs. All of them belonged to children. The sheer volume was staggering. It was grotesque mound of what once were innocent lives.
The sight was stomach-churning.
Bits of clothing, scraps of dirty fabric, were tangled amongst the grisly heaps. There were toys, too. Broken and discarded. A wooden doll missing an arm. A lead soldier crushed flat. These remnants of childhood innocence made the horror sharper. More piercing.
What was worse, some of the body parts were not dried and ancient. Interspersed with the old remains were fresh pieces. Still glistening. Still bearing the vivid coloration of recent death.
A small, severed hand lay half-buried beneath a pile of older bones. Its skin was unnervingly smooth. A tiny foot, still pink, rested on a ritual circle. A dark stain spreading beneath it. The sacrifices were not just a historical event here. They were ongoing. Frequent. Recent.
The chamber was a monument to depravity. A butcher shop for souls.
Jack felt a cold, hard knot form in his gut. His jaw tightened. The muscles flexed visibly.
He ground his teeth together. A low, guttural sound escaping his throat. Rage threatened to burst forth. Pure and incandescent. He wanted to scream. to tear this place apart, to find whatever monster created this horror and flay it alive.
But he held it in. He had to. There were still tasks to complete.
Reina was pale. Her hand was still clutching his arm. Trembling slightly. Her usual composed demeanor was fractured. Replaced by a quiet terror and revulsion. Her mind flashed back briefly to when she was still Queen Mirage. Even then, she was sure she wasn't this crazy.
Rune flickered with an agitated, angry orange.
The three transcendent artists were hit hard. Barnaby looked away. His face was green with the mixture of pain, rage, and sorrow. Mirella covered her mouth. Her eyes were wide with shock. Riff, the minstrel, stood frozen and pale.
Even the hardened acolytes looked sickened. High Priest Mountaine muttered prayers under his breath. His face was etched with sorrow. Father Lynx's hand instinctively went to the hilt of his mace. Senior Inquisitor Lantern's gaze burned with a holy wrath. Sister Riverre sank to her knees, openly weeping.
Jack swept his gaze around the room. There was no devil here now. Only the lingering stench of evil and death. The air itself seemed to hum with residual torment.
"Move!" Jack's voice was low. Raspy and barely audible. Yet, it cut through the silence like a knife. He couldn't stay here. He couldn't let his rage consume him. Not yet.
They moved on. Leaving the chamber of horrors behind. But, the memory of it was seared into their minds.
Rune's light, now a determined blue, led them down another short corridor. And, at the very end of the corridor, they found it. A large, iron-barred prison cell.
Inside, huddled together in the dim light, were children. Thirteen of them. The surviving remnant of what must have been many, many more.
They were emaciated. Their clothes were ragged and dirty. But physically, they appeared unharmed. No visible wounds. No obvious signs of torture.
But their eyes. Their eyes were vacant. Hollow. Filled with a terror that transcended physical pain. They stared straight ahead. Or at the floor. Unresponsive.
Their bodies were still. Rigid with suppressed fear. Or perhaps, with a deeper, more profound broken state. They were alive, but mentally wrecked. The horrors of this place had scarred their minds more deeply than any blade could.
Jack approached the cell door. The lock was complex. But it was nothing for the telekinesis power of his [Mysterious Anomaly]. He unlocked it with a casual flick of his wrist. The iron door groaned open.
Sister Riverre, despite her earlier tears, was the first to react. She rushed forward. Her face was full of compassion. "Children! It's alright now. You're safe."
The other acolytes followed. A cautious tenderness replacing their battle-hardened resolve. High Priest Mountaine began to speak in soft, soothing tones.
Father Lynx and Inquisitor Lantern stood guard. But their gazes were also on the traumatized youngsters. Barnaby, Mirella, and Riff moved to help. Their faces softened by pity.
Jack stayed vigilant. He didn't forget that there was still a devil they hadn't encountered. His [Eyes of Judgement] flared. Observing everything.
And soon, his vision shifted to a direction. The world seemed to momentarily focus itself in one point. The innocent, terrified aura of the other children was replaced, for one specific child. One who was entirely... something else.
She looked like a normal girl. Thin and pale. Perhaps seven or eight years old. With tangled brown hair and wide, frightened eyes.
But to Jack's [Eyes of Judgement], she pulsed with a extremely negative karma. It was so dense and so dark that it almost obscured her form. And then, information flooded his mind.
This girl was not a child. She was not even a human. Underneath the frightened child appearance, there was a monstrous existence. Her disguise was flawless to any normal sight. But Jack's unique perception stripped it bare.
Jack lifted his left arm. Stopping Mirella, who was about to move towards the very girl Jack was observing. The transcendent painter froze and looked at him.
Without any word, Jack brought up his shotgun. It was a fluid motion. Almost instinctual. He aimed it directly at the head of the small, terrified-looking girl.
A gasp went through the group. Reina, however, only watched. Her expression was unreadable. She trusted Jack implicitly.
The shotgun roared, spitting fire and lead. The sound was deafening in the confined space.
The girl moved. Not with the frantic, clumsy flinch of a terrified human child. But with blinding speed. Her small, pale hand shot out. Intercepting the blast.
Instead of tearing through her skull, the bullet struck against her palm. Dropping harmlessly to the floor. Not a single drop of blood. Just a momentary impression on her skin... which vanished instantly.
The innocent façade shattered. Her wide, frightened eyes narrowed into slits of pure, unadulterated rage.
A low snarl ripped from her throat. A sound utterly alien to a human child. Her body tensed. As if transforming from pitiful victim to coiled predator in an instant.
"You!" She shrieked. Her voice was high-pitched and metallic. Devoid of any childish warmth. "You saw through it! Impossible!"
She didn't waste another moment. With inhuman speed, she lunged. Directly at Jack. Her small frame blurred like a whirlwind of furious intent.
Jack was ready. He moved with practiced ease. Sidestepping her charge. As she zipped past, he reached out. His hand was like iron clamping around her ankle. The small leg was surprisingly strong. But Jack's grip was stronger.
He didn't hesitate. With a grunt, he swung her like a ragdoll. Using her own momentum against her. And hurled her with crushing force towards the far wall of the prison cell.
The impact was sickening. A dull thud echoed as her body hit the rough stone. Any normal child would have been a mangled mess.
But this was no normal child.
She didn't fall. She landed with impossible grace. Planting her feet and hands firmly on the vertical stone wall. As if gravity held no sway over her. Her body seemed to adhere to the rough surface. Her eyes blazed with furious indignation.
"How? How could you see me?" She demanded. Her voice vibrated with barely contained fury. Her disguise was meant to be perfect. Unbreakable. "I am the Child of Secret Haven! My disguise is absolute!"
Jack didn't bother to answer. He simply aimed his shotgun again and fired. Another blast ripped through the air. Tearing towards the devil.