Brian remained frozen, physically unable to process what had just transpired.
His eyes were wide, like windows looking into the absolute chaos erupting within his soul.
His sister?
Was she truly dead?
How could this happen so fast?
The scene before him was beyond belief.
The head of Sora—who just moments ago was speaking to him and guiding him—had been tossed away, falling with a sickening, rhythmic thud onto the earth.
A fountain of hot blood erupted from her neck as if her body had opened a terrifying river.
He tried to scream again, but the sound calcified in his throat; nothing emerged but a muffled whimper. Everything around him went mute, as if he were trapped inside a bubble he could not puncture.
Tara, watching from the side, was in no better state. Her heart hammered with frantic speed, and a cold sweat slicked her brow. Her entire frame shuddered from the sheer horror of the shock.
She tried to pull herself together, but guilt seeped into her depths like a lethal poison. She was the leader, she was the one responsible, but now… Sora was dead.
"How did this happen? How did we let this thing get so close to us?" Tara questioned internally, as red blood continued to pool from Sora's corpse. Every time she tried to move her body to react, the sheer force of terror paralyzed her. That masked man… That monster.
But there was no time for tears or contemplation. They had to move, run, fight—anything but stand there helpless.
Amidst the panic, the masked man's voice drifted out like venom slowly leaking into their ears, "She was clever, but cleverness alone is not enough in this place."
He smiled, though his demonic red mask hid most of his features. Yet even from behind the porcelain, Brian and Tara felt a heavy, manifest derision. The masked man seemed to be enjoying this—relishing the sight of them breaking before him.
"You... you bastard!" Brian shrieked, his eyes boiling with a mixture of rage and tears. He drew his sword with a jerk and tried to lunge at the masked man, ignoring fear or any semblance of logical thought.
However, before he could reach him, the masked man vanished in an instant, as if he had never existed at all.
"Where is he?!" Brian screamed, spinning around manically. His eyes darted in every direction, searching for a target, for vengeance. "Where did he go?!"
Then suddenly, Tara felt a cold hand clasp her wrist. She shivered and screamed. "He's here!"
But she wasn't fast enough. The masked man was swifter than any movement she could muster—swifter than her mind could even conceive.
Swoosh—! Slash—!
In a flash, a long blade protruded from her chest. She looked down in dazed horror, blood soaking her green garments, while the masked man murmured in a frigid tone, "Now... it is your turn."
Tara collapsed to the ground, her hands vainly trying to clutch the massive wounds on her body, as if trying to plug the waterfall of blood. But all her efforts were futile. There was nothing left to do but wait for the end to arrive.
During this time, as Brian watched what happened to Tara, his mind began to detach from reality. The sounds around him grew distant, as if coming from another world. Everything slowed down unnaturally; even his heartbeat seemed to pause between thumps.
"No... this can't be happening..." he whispered to himself, trying to convince his brain that everything he saw was merely a nightmare.
But the nightmare was real. The ground before him was carpeted in blood; the bodies of Sora and Tara lay sprawled like abandoned dolls. He was the only one left.
"Why? Why me?"
Brian began to stagger backward, his steps unsteady as if his legs could no longer support his weight. Then suddenly, a door opened in his mind. "No... I don't want to die... I don't want to die here!"
Something stirred within him—something animalistic, primal. He knew he couldn't defeat the masked man. He didn't have the slightest ghost of a chance. But his mind realized one thing: He had to run!
But the masked man wasn't going to let him go so easily. "Oh, where do you think you're going?" the masked man said mockingly, approaching slowly with a light step, as if Death itself were walking beside him.
Brian tried to bolt, but he felt something cold pierce his leg. He shrieked in pain and hit the ground. He stared at his leg to find a small dagger embedded deep in the muscle.
"No... no..." he whimpered, trying to crawl away while the masked man drew closer.
In that moment, Brian's brain began to summon every memory of his life with Sora and Tara—how they laughed together, how they planned for the future. Now, it had all collapsed. All those dreams and hopes had turned into black, worthless rubble.
Deep down, the masked man wasn't just an obsessed killer. He made his victims feel fear and despair before he ended them. He believed that fear was the most powerful weapon he could wield. Death comes for everyone, but to die terrified and helpless makes the pain redoubled.
With every step he took toward Brian, the masked man's eyes closely watched those final moments. He wanted to see every expression on Brian's face: the terror, the hopelessness, the surrender.
"Enjoy your final moments, little one. This is the end."
Then, with terrifying slowness, he raised his weapon, preparing to deliver the final blow. But in that instant, something unexpected happened.
Suddenly, amidst the horrific silence, a sound of laughter erupted—hysterical, maddened laughter. It was Brian who was laughing. His laughter was laced with insanity, as if everything happening around him had shifted into something beyond comprehension.
"Do you think you've won? Do you think I'll be afraid of you?!" Brian barked in a hoarse voice, blood bleeding out of him profusely.
The masked man paused for a moment, unsure if Brian had completely lost his mind or if something else was occurring.
"I've... lost everything... so I have nothing left to lose. Kill me if you wish, but I won't give you the pleasure of seeing me afraid!" It was Brian's final moment of internal resistance.
"Do you know the only thing worse than death?" Brian said in a broken voice, trying to stand despite his wounds. "To die without knowing the truth. To die without understanding why all of this happened."
The masked man didn't respond; he simply watched from behind his mask with a slight, almost invisible smile.
Brian continued, his voice trembling but defiant. "You, masked man... whoever you are or whatever you seek, you understand nothing about me. You understand nothing of Sora, of Tara, of our lives. You may have killed us, but you will never understand what made us fight, what made us keep going despite everything."
In that moment, Brian felt a new strength surging through his veins. Perhaps it was adrenaline, or perhaps it was just absolute despair, but he didn't care. He stood up, swaying slightly from the pain, but in his eyes was a spark that hadn't been there before—the spark of a final resistance, even if it was a hopeless one.
The masked man contemplated Brian as he rose again, battered but determined to face him. The scene looked like the final desperate attempt of a man trapped between life and death, but something in the depths of Brian's eyes piqued the masked man's interest.
Brian, ignoring the pain flooding his body, raised his sword again, ready for any attack. Blood flowed freely from his wounds, but he didn't care. His injured leg barely held him, and his lungs burned with every breath; nevertheless, he did not retreat.
"You haven't won yet..." Brian whispered in a gravelly voice.