Lorelei stared at her bloodied, trembling hands. The dual-colored gloves — once differentiated by their opposite shades — had conjoined in a single, uniform red.
What have I done… Why did I do this?
Her eyes dilated as her expression contorted in horror. Lorelei hadn't paid attention to the angels' speech before she came to this hall. Their yearning for blood never once made her consider that they would literally take another life for it. And just as they had said, she fed them the blood. She activated this mechanism. And she killed that man. He had a family. Even though the emotions in his speech had been intentionally heightened, Lorelei knew that without the hall's distortion, his voice would have sounded exactly the same. No matter what, a human would still cower when faced with an unexpected death.
Not enough.
The voices of the statues reverberated across the hall, making it tremble with their distinctive orders. She had no other choice. If she wanted to leave this place, Lorelei knew she had to yield to their demands, but…
Not this way. I can't let them be killed like this.
It all made sense to Lorelei now. The reason why the figure had asked her to throw her morals away. Just as she had said, her conscience was binding her, refusing to let her commit the atrocities necessary to survive. Lorelei had no choice but to accept — despite her flagging denial — that the figure was ultimately right. Even so, she refused to kill them in such a horrid way.
I can't kill them like this.
Wait…
Kill them… like this?
Since when did I think like that?
A soft chuckle resonated through the damp atmosphere, bathed in crimson light. She had changed — changed for the worse, by her own morals. Killing them was fine, but not in such a horrid way? She had unconsciously accepted that the figure was right: that for someone like her to survive, she must kill others. Even without the figure saying so, Lorelei knew it. It was a thought she had insistently repressed ever since she killed Maria and Silvia. Nothing could stop a death from occurring, so would her power just accelerate that process? If so, then what was the purpose of living, if in the end one always dies?
Then a memory flashed through her eyes. A memory of herself, speaking to It. In her dream, when she met It, she had asked this exact same question. And It answered her:
A life is immortal. It continues to live through memories…
Her eyes rose to the circular inscriptions engraved on the wall in front of her. Lorelei's expression stiffened as she rose and dragged her sword up with her. She had made her decision. A life for a life. Blood for blood. If they wanted blood… she would feed them her own.
"How does my blood sound?" A small smirk traced her lips as she drove the sword into her heart.
She vomited an enormous amount of blood, along with the contents of her stomach, forced out violently. Just as before, the circular inscriptions flattened and completed the wall. Its ruby energy spread through the crest, flooding the entire hall. Once complete, the crest ran up the statues. They raised both arms toward her and gazed deeply into her fading eyes.
More blood.
Their eyes rolled back, revealing starry pupils that seemed to be intensely observing Lorelei's final moments. She fell flat as the floor around her dove downward. Slowly, the platform's mouth drank the blood dripping from where she lay, dead.
Not enough.
0 000 009
Lorelei slowly fought to open her heavy eyelids. Every movement brought an immeasurable drain upon her limbs. She gazed up at the statues, who still leaned over her.
More blood.
Without a second thought, Lorelei pulled out the sword that had been stuck in her body while it was reconstructing — and, in the process, pierced her newly restored heart. She let go of the blade as she felt her ribs nearly ripping out of her torso. She fell beside the crimson sword, punctured into the ground below, and barely managed to stop her own blade from falling into the abyss that had formed around them.
Not enough.
0 000 010
More blood.
Once again she rose, carefully avoiding the chipped crimson blade, and drunkenly steadied herself on both feet. Her mind swirled, and her sense of self had already begun to fray. After only two consecutive deaths, her skull felt as though it were being constantly struck with a hammer.
Not enough.
She barely had strength enough to form another thought. This time she raised her hand and drove it straight into her body, breaking the ribs that protected her heart. She tore the organ from her chest, held it over the crimson sword, and crushed it.
0 000 011
More blood.
Lorelei fixed her gaze on the wavering black flame. The sword seemed to be tempting her, inviting her to take hold and end this madness the easy way.
"I could just… kill a couple, right? Right?"
She slapped herself awake at the thought and dove her hand into her body. Her pulsating heart filled her palm before she ripped it out. Even outside her body, her heart still beat in her hand. An unreal sensation settled in her palm — the pulsation of her own life. Veins and arteries still tangled from the heart. With each beat, part of the organ would settle between the cracks of her fingers before snapping back. Pumping out of the tangled blood vessels, blood was directed toward a body it no longer belonged to. With the last thread of consciousness she could muster, Lorelei crushed her heart and crumbled to the ground.
Not enough.
0 000 012
More blood.
Lorelei screamed in agony. With every death that accumulated, the pain she felt grew more vivid, more present, carrying through her newly formed body — as if to say she had to feel the entire experience of dying, and could not escape it by dying again.
Not enough.
0 000 013
More blood.
Again and again. She woke with the same temptation — to grab the sword and take the easy way out.
"Just a couple of humans." A smile spread across her face as she spoke through her aching body.
Not enough.
0 000 014
More blood.
The room grew brighter, fully embracing the crimson of Lorelei's blood.
Not enough.
0 000 015
Again.
0 000 016
And again.
0 000 017
More blood.
0 000 018
More blood.
0 000 019
More blood.
Their pleas for blood became a chant in Lorelei's ears. A chant so enchanting that she herself joined in. Was it madness? Was the pain of each death carrying through her body, leaving her consciousness floating on a single thread? Lorelei herself had no idea. She had no sense of how much time had passed, how much blood she had spilled, or how many times she had died. The thought of stopping this farce became nothing more than a waste of energy.
Not enough.
0 000 020
More blood.
The statues left their original placement and, as if floating, slowly marched toward the platform. They leaned closer to Lorelei until their eyes hovered above her. They watched as she died and returned to life, endlessly.
Not enough.
0 000 021
More blood.
The white particles that reconstructed Lorelei's body dissipated in almost an instant. The warmth she felt at their return was cut short every time — as if it were swallowed by that crushing gaze.
Not enough.
0 000 022
More blood.
Not enough.
0 000 023
* * *
0 000 035
More blood.
Not enough.
0 000 036
* * *
0 000 079
More blood.
The place where Lorelei pierced her heart stopped regenerating. A gaping hole was left in her chest, exposing her heart to the crimson light.
"I'm… tired…" she whispered, fighting to bring her hand up and tear her heart from her chest.
Not enough.
0 000 080
* * *
0 000 137
More blood.
Her heart itself barely regenerated now. Sometimes only a single ventricle was restored; sometimes only an atria. The amount of blood she had given at her first death was almost five times the quantity that now dripped out of her.
I can just kill a few humans… Just a few…
Nobody could blame her for it. Nobody would ever know. Yet she kept going, insisting on not sacrificing others for her own ends. She had chosen to enter that pillar, and she wanted to take responsibility for it. Or so went the weak excuse she found to stop herself from dragging the hilt upright and condemning as many humans as necessary. Beneath her facade, all Lorelei wanted was to find an end to this — no matter how many humans she would have to kill, no matter how many times. She was willing to do anything to get out of here, but that same phrase repeated in the ruins of her sanity.
A life is immortal. It continues to live through memories…
The words of an Arbiter. It was the only thing stopping her.
Not enough.
0 000 138
* * *
0 000 324
More blood.
Lorelei laughed softly as she gazed into the statues' eyes. Her crimson hair, dyed by her own blood, floated downward as her ear rested against the crimson blade. Her doll-like face had distorted into a messy mix of anguish, pain, and madness. Air barely reached her lungs. The gaping hole in her chest — exposing what was once called her heart — grew larger as the sloppily regenerated ribs pushed outward. Her body, especially her upper half, had completely mutated. Her brown eyes stared at the statue, conscious yet unconscious.
Is this hell?
A human concept she had learned from reading books in Samuel's library. Heaven and hell. A belief nearly every human held. In the book she read, hell was described as a horrendous place where evil humans spent eternity paying for their sins. She read that there was no respite there, nowhere to run, as its fire burned endlessly, consuming and returning them to nothing. Even if they died there, they would be resurrected again and again until their sanity found no place to remain. Lorelei found it rather ironic, this situation of hers. She thought this place must be hell.
Not enough.
She thrust her hand through her throat and let the blood run free, using her tangled strands of once-silver hair as a medium to drip into the pulsating mouth of the platform.
0 000 325
* * *
0 000 543
* * *
0 000 769
* * *
0 000 861
* * *
0 000 899
More blood.
At every death, only a little drop of blood would find its way down the strands of her hair. She had crushed her liver, stomach, kidneys, even her intestines — all in the hope that more blood would flow out of her. Her body had become a sorry excuse for a living being, much like the man she had killed. The only things that remained intact were her legs, beyond the reach of her hands, and her face, gazing up at the statues looming over her. Her intestines barely regenerated as the white particles prioritized her heart and lungs.
Not enough.
0 000 900
* * *
0 000 998
More blood.
The crest in the middle of the wall returned to its three-dimensional shape, shifting the air around them and creating an unusual current in the still red hall. Instead of sinking back into the wall, it grew outward, almost as if reaching for the platform. The innermost part of the circle extended toward Lorelei as she absently stared at it. The crest glowed brighter as her consciousness faded once more.
Not enough.
0 000 999
Reign.
The statues rose, placing their hands forward and pointing at the crest glowing beside her. The circle was about the size of her palm.
Reign forth. Splatter blood. Create a new world.
A veil slowly descended toward Lorelei. A red veil, the same color as the crimson crest.
Our new world arrives. Master. State your name.
The red veil lifted both of her gloves and gently set them beside the crimson sword. Through her swaying thoughts, Lorelei understood what she had to do. She placed her right hand — the one she had never used to kill herself — and pressed it against the crest. Lorelei felt her body slowly float, as if unbound from the floor; instead of her, it was the platform that leveled the air. The crest grew brighter and vanished in a flash of crimson light.
"Reilli… Reilli Fidelya…"
The statues returned to their praying stance and repeated her name.
Reilli Fidelya.
The circle slowly began to collapse, its expansion reversing. The ruby light that bathed the room in eerie crimson drained away, as if it were all being absorbed into Lorelei.
Veiled one. Our new master arrives.
The statues themselves crumbled from the base upward, disrupting the flow of their speech. The crimson veil slowly sank into the sword, taking its shape. Through the brightening crimson of the blade, Lorelei saw her reflection. The reflection of a madwoman. A faint smile had been absently traced across her face.
Ruler of a new hell. Crimson-veiled Queen.
0 001 000