Siren was silent, his chest heaving heavily, but his body, against all odds, was whole. No empty eye socket, no severed fingers—his skin was unblemished, his muscles taut. He stood in the center of a hall surrounded by colossal columns, the cold of the stone floor seeping into his bare feet, chilling him to the bone. The runes on the sarcophagus in the center pulsed, their light reflecting in his pupils as if mocking him.
"So, I'm dead?" he finally rasped, his voice hoarse, as though his throat still remembered the taste of blood. "Makes sense. I was… torn to pieces. So what is this place?"
Protocol Eclipse froze. The bluish glow in her eye sockets flickered, as if the signal had faltered. Her snow-white gloves, cold and smooth as marble, rested on her chest in a gesture of submission—too mechanical to be sincere.
"Yes, you are dead," her synthetic voice cut through the air like a blade. "If you wish your soul to find peace, abandon your body."
Siren narrowed his eyes, his lips twisting into a bitter smirk. He crossed his arms, ignoring the tremor in his fingers—fingers that had been torn off by machines not long ago.
"So, you're the gatekeeper, huh? Got it, got it," he nodded, dragging out the words with sarcasm. "You know, something tells me you're lying."
His words echoed off the columns, shattering the deathly silence of the hall. Protocol Eclipse twitched slightly, her mask emitting a metallic click, as if a mechanism inside had jammed. But her voice remained cold as a gravestone.
"Do not speak so in the presence of a god, arrogant child," she said. "Are you not glad to enter paradise in his embrace?"
Siren clenched his teeth. Her saccharine, mechanical tone grated on his nerves like a rusty nail. He stepped forward, ignoring the tremble in his legs, and grabbed the hem of her robe. He wanted to yank her by the collar, but her towering figure loomed over him like a black monolith, and his fingers dug into the fabric at her chest.
"Who do you think you're fooling?" he growled, his voice cracking with anger. "Answer me—where am I, and what have you done to me?"
The blue flames in her mask's eye sockets didn't waver, staring through him as if he were nothing. Siren braced himself for a response, but instead, his body was yanked backward. An invisible force, like a steel cable, hurled him onto the stone floor. The impact rattled his skull, his bones creaking, and blood pulsed in his temples. He clenched his jaw, clinging to consciousness as light flickered before his eyes.
"Enough games," Protocol Eclipse's voice sliced through the silence like a knife. "Lamenta, kill the insolent fool."
Siren tried to rise but didn't have time. From the shadows of the columns came the clank of chains—heavy, rusted, as if shackles were being dragged across stone. He blinked, trying to focus his vision, but the world blurred, feverish.
Rusted chains descended from above like serpents sensing prey. They crashed onto him with a dull thud that echoed in the hall like the sound of a shattered watermelon. Siren's head exploded. His skull splintered into a hundred fragments, pink chunks of brain mixed with blood and bone shards spraying in all directions, blooming on the stone like a grotesque flower. His body convulsed and collapsed, dissolving into clouds of black smoke that spread across the floor like a poisonous mist.
Protocol Eclipse stood motionless, her mask betraying no emotion. From the shadows emerged a figure—a girl, wrapped head to toe in darkened bandages soaked in blood and rust. The iron chains dangling from her body clinked as she bowed low.
"It seems his consciousness is far stronger than I thought," Protocol Eclipse said, her voice cold but tinged with a hint of irritation. "Lamenta, find him and deal with him. No matter how long it takes. I need that boy broken."
The bandaged girl bowed deeper, her chains clinking, echoing in the emptiness of the hall. Then her body shuddered, dissolving into a shimmering hologram, like a ghost swallowed by the darkness.
***
Siren awoke in the midst of a boundless sea, its dark waters stretching to the horizon, merging with the void. The pain that had torn through his body moments ago was gone, as if it had never existed.
The water's surface, on which he stood, was smooth as black glass, without a single ripple. He took a step, and faint ripples spread from his bare feet, dissolving into infinity. The water was neither cold nor warm—it was indifferent, as if the sea itself denied his existence.
Above hung a smoky fog, heavy and dense like a shroud. The horizon was cloaked in black gloom, swallowing all light. Through the thick mist, no stars or moon were visible—only a viscous, impenetrable darkness that gripped Siren's chest with primal fear.
He clenched his fists, feeling the skin on his fingers tighten with tension. His body was unharmed, but his mind still echoed with the memory of torn flesh, the crunch of bones, and blood pooling on the floor.
"Where the hell am I?" he thought, looking around. His voice, hoarse from his recent scream, remained mute, dissolving into the silence.
And then, ahead, a figure emerged from the fog. It appeared so smoothly, as if it were part of this dead sea. Thin as a skeleton draped in skin, slightly taller than Siren, it seemed woven from darkness. Its body was tightly wrapped in dark bandages, from head to toe, like a mummy torn from an ancient crypt. Rusted shackles hung from its wrists and ankles, clinking with every subtle movement. The chains were old, crusted with rust, but their weight promised strength capable of crushing bones.
Siren froze, his heart pounding, but he forced himself to stand tall. The figure's eyes—if it had any—were hidden beneath tight bandages. He couldn't see its gaze, but the skin on the back of his neck prickled from its mere presence.
He clenched his teeth, his fingers trembling, ready for a fight. He wanted to speak, but the words caught in his throat.
In an instant, the silence shattered. The figure lunged forward so swiftly that the water beneath its feet didn't even ripple. It darted toward him like a shadow no longer needing to hide.
Siren instinctively raised his arms to defend himself, but the attack came from an unexpected angle. A fist, clenched like a steel bolt, bypassed his shoulder with terrifying agility and smashed into his face.
His nose crunched like dry twigs, blood spraying and coating his chin. His head snapped back, the world spinning, sparks flashing in his eyes. Sharp pain, like a red-hot blade, pierced his skull, but he gritted his teeth, clinging to consciousness.
He collapsed to his knees, the water splashing beneath him, cold and indifferent. The bandaged figure loomed over him, its chains clinking as if mocking him. Siren spat blood, watching it mix with the water, spreading in a crimson cloud. His gray eyes glinted with fury.
"Is that all you've got?" he rasped, forcing himself to rise. His voice trembled, but it burned with the same defiance that had kept him unbroken all these years. "Hit harder, you freak."
Lamenta didn't respond. Her rusted shackles clinked, breaking the dead silence of the sea. The bandages on her face, soaked in blood and grime, twitched as if something living stirred beneath them. She stepped forward, and the water beneath her remained still, as if the sea itself feared to touch her.
Siren leapt up, ignoring the pain stabbing his face like needles. He raised his fists, ready to fight, but Lamenta was faster—inhumanly faster. Her movements were smooth and precise, like a machine programmed to kill.
He tried to block her strike, but her bandaged hand clamped onto his wrist like a steel trap. The crunch of bones shattered the silence—Lamenta twisted his wrist with such force that the joints burst like ripe pomegranates. Siren roared, pain exploding in his arm, but he lunged forward, trying to strike with his free hand.
Lamenta gave him no chance. Her other hand, cold and hard as iron, seized his elbow. She pressed down, and the bone snapped with a sickening crunch, twisting out of its socket. Shards of his elbow bone tore through his skin, blood gushing and soaking Lamenta's bandages, but she didn't flinch. Her movements were mechanical, devoid of mercy, like a predator tearing apart its prey.
Siren collapsed to one knee in agony, the water splashing beneath him, but he still rasped, clutching his mangled arm.
"You… sick bitch!" he spat, his voice trembling with pain. He tried to stand, but Lamenta loomed over him, her chains ringing like a funeral toll.
Slender fingers, wrapped in tattered bandages, dug into his face. Their tips, hard as claws, sank into his eye sockets. Siren screamed, but the sound cut off as she pressed harder. His eyes burst like ripe berries, fluid and blood spraying down his cheeks. The pain was blinding, but he still thrashed, trying to break free, his hand weakly clawing at her bandages.
Lamenta didn't stop. She wrapped her chains around his neck in a choking grip until a crack sounded. Siren's trachea collapsed, leaving him gasping for air. But she didn't stop there. Still holding his neck with the chain, Lamenta raised her free hand. The first blow fractured his frontal bone, the crack splitting through his skull like lightning. The second blow shattered his temple, bone fragments piercing his brain, blood and gray matter splashing into the water, staining it crimson. Siren collapsed, his body convulsing, but the chains tightened around his neck until his spine snapped under the pressure. The soft tissues of his neck tore, and his head hung limply like a broken ornament.
Finally, she lowered him to the ground and drove her heel into the remains of his shattered temple, reducing his skull to a pulp of bone and flesh. Pink chunks of brain mixed with the water, spreading like fish food.
His body sank into the sea, broken, in a pool of blood that slowly spread across the water's surface before dissolving into clouds of black smoke.
Lamenta stood over him, her bandages splattered with crimson, her chains slowly lowering, clinking in the silence. She looked at her hands, where the blood turned to black mist, as if assessing whether it was enough to break him.
But somewhere deep within Siren's shattered consciousness, a spark still burned. His voice, faint as a whisper, echoed in the void:
"You… will regret this…"