"The Corruption of Knowledge"
Chapter 7: The Crurch of Silence
Author: Frenames
A few moments of silence passed—
But with each second, the stench of blood grew stronger.
It wasn't just a smell.
It felt alive.
It crawled through the air, slipping into every breath I took, slowly suffocating me from the inside.
Each inhale tasted like rusted iron—
heavy, bitter, nauseating.
Something felt wrong beneath my feet.
Cold.
Thick.
Wet.
Slowly, I lowered my gaze—
As if my body itself resisted seeing the truth.
But when I finally looked—
My eyes widened.
Without me realizing it, the floor beneath me had turned into a pool of blood.
Not just a stain.
Not just a puddle.
A pool.
And it wasn't still.
It moved.
Slowly.
Subtly.
Like it had a will of its own.
Like it was following me.
I instinctively stepped back—but the blood shifted with me, curling around my boots, clinging to the edges as if it refused to let go.
My heartbeat quickened.
Thump… thump… thump…
Like the drums of death echoing inside my chest.
My hands trembled ever so slightly.
This was the first time I had ever faced something like this.
This wasn't combat.
This wasn't a mission.
This was something deeper.
Something darker.
This isn't normal… this isn't right…
I immediately lifted my gaze toward the priest—
But—
He was gone.
He didn't walk away.
He didn't run.
He didn't even fade.
It was as if—
He had been erased from reality itself.
"… "
I froze.
A cold gust brushed past my back—
Even though the church was completely sealed.
My chest tightened.
Something's wrong.
I blinked.
For a split second—
A shadow flickered at the edge of my vision.
I turned sharply.
Nothing.
"F*ck…"
I muttered under my breath, barely audible.
My grip on the revolver tightened.
The cold metal grounded me—
It was the only thing keeping me sane.
This wasn't the time to panic.
Think… Fray.
Slowly, I scanned my surroundings—
Left… right… behind… above…
But no matter where I looked—
The priest was nowhere.
Like a bubble, he had vanished.
And that made it worse.
Because even though he was gone—
I could feel him.
Close.
Too close.
Like eyes were buried into my back, watching my every movement.
Waiting.
Observing.
Like a predator that hadn't decided to strike yet—
But inevitably would.
I didn't lower my weapon.
Instead, I tightened my grip even more—
As if it were the last fragile barrier between me and death.
Slowly, I stepped toward the stage.
Step…
Step…
Step…
The sound of my boots pressing into blood echoed throughout the church—
Loud.
Clear.
Oppressively deafening in the silence.
"Priest… where are you?"
My voice spread across the hall—
Echoing.
Repeating.
Until it felt like something else in the darkness was whispering alongside me.
"…where are you…"
"…where are you…"
Then—
Silence.
A silence that felt like it was hiding a scream.
I looked around.
There were people.
Many of them.
Seated.
Still.
But—
No one moved.
No one breathed.
No one lived.
They looked like statues made of flesh—
Abandoned in the middle of a nightmare.
I walked slowly between the long rows of benches.
Each step felt heavier than the last.
Like I was walking deeper into something I wasn't meant to see.
Then—
I glanced to the right.
Five men sat there.
At first glance—
Normal.
Just quiet.
But the longer I stared—
Something felt off.
No breathing.
No movement.
Not even a blink.
Like time itself had abandoned them.
I stepped closer.
Each movement felt like it dragged my soul deeper into darkness.
And then—
The illusion shattered.
"—!"
I staggered back.
It felt like I had been punched in the gut.
One of the men—
His neck had been partially sliced open.
Not enough to sever it—
But enough for the blood to keep dripping.
Drip… drip… drip…
The sound echoed unnaturally—
Like a clock counting down to something inevitable.
His abdomen—
Was torn open.
Not just the fabric—
But the flesh itself.
His insides spilled out, hanging grotesquely—
Like a secret that had been violently exposed.
A clean cut.
Horizontal.
Precise.
As if it had been done slowly.
Carefully.
Deliberately.
As if—
It had been enjoyed.
"… "
And it wasn't just him.
The four beside him—
The same.
Same cut.
Same posture.
Same silence.
As if a single hand had crafted them all.
A hand without mercy.
A hand with experience.
Slowly, I turned to the left.
Women.
Seated.
Still.
And—
Met with the same fate.
My stomach twisted violently.
My throat tightened as if invisible fingers were choking me.
I couldn't breathe properly.
"F*ck… what is this…"
I whispered, my voice trembling.
"It's like… they didn't even resist…"
There were no signs of struggle.
No chaos.
No desperation.
As if—
They had accepted death.
Or worse—
They never even realized it had come.
This wasn't a battle.
This wasn't a massacre.
This was—
A ritual.
A cold realization crept into my mind—
Like a shadow swallowing light.
The priest.
He did this.
And if that was true—
Then that meant—
"The mass isn't over yet."
A voice whispered—
Right beside my ear.
My entire body froze.
The cold breath pierced through my skin.
Slowly—
Very slowly—
I turned my head.
And there—
He stood behind me.
The priest.
But—
He was no longer human.
His head was tilted at an impossible angle.
His eyes were sunken—
Yet glowing in a deep, unnatural red.
And his smile—
Stretched far beyond what a human face should allow.
As if his face had been split open—
Just to make that smile possible.
To be continue...