That's the Shepherd…
Both Hunter and Altair immediately recognized it; only an Entity of this magnitude could have such a presence.
Around the Shepherd, its herd slowly gathered, their numbers barely countable, their contours visible through the fog.
The vegetation around them ran wild, with lush bushes, rapidly growing weeds, and trees that grew larger until they reached a point where they couldn't grow anymore.
They reached the end of their life cycle.
The tall grass around them dulled from vibrant green to a lifeless gray. Bushes and trees drained of color, their leaves curling as they decayed. Surrounding the shepherd, its new flock stumbled for a moment before the effect of the domain fully spread onto them as well.
Some collapsed to their knees — thick vines bursting from the ground, coiling around the fallen puppets and dragging them into the softened soil before vanishing completely.
The few remaining members of the Shepherd's flock numbered no more than ten. Through the shroud of fog, all the convicts could see were the fog-obscured forms of the remaining puppets grotesquely transforming.
On the ground, the thick vines traveled to the distance, pulsing akin to a heartbeat.
All of it came from the same place — the colossal tree.
As it absorbed the nutrients from the consumed puppets, the tree almost instantaneously bloomed, its leaves gently cascading down all the Shepherd's domain.
"Don't get touched by th—" Altair pushed Hunter aside with a warning, but that warning wasn't heard by everyone.
Other convicts were fleeing the beach of the Dead Waters, stumbling toward the colossal tree.
Without warning, one of its gently cascading leaves brushed against a man's skin.
At first, he felt nothing — only an odd itch crawling across his scalp. When he scratched, strands of white hair came away, stuck in his fingernails.
"Wh…at… is—" The words stuck in his throat. The same faint itch gnawed at his gums, and before he could make sense of it, his teeth began to fall out.
In the next, he passed away naturally from old age, only a blood red leaf remained on his corpse — pulsing like a heart.
Altair felt a steady tap on his shoulder, then with more force behind it, growing faster.
He only glanced at Hunter before the two came to a tacit agreement, breaking into a sprint and heading towards the same general direction as Butcher and the convict beside him, with other survivors from the beach.
No wonder they send us down through the lift… they never expected any of us to survive. This is no different from the death penalty.
Hunter nearly cursed aloud but bit it back, glancing over his shoulder at the Shepherd.
The entity hadn't moved. It remained where it was, eerily still, its silhouette swallowed by the fog as Hunter put more distance between them.
But the rest of the flock — their bodies twisted by the macabre transformation — followed. Their misshapen silhouettes stalked them through the fog, never near enough to glimpse clearly, however, never distant enough to give the illusion of escape.
The deeper they traversed the shepherd's domain, the more exhausted the two became, their lungs and muscles burning from the exertion.
But they couldn't stop.
I have to find Butcher before they get to him first. But no matter where he looked, where he ran, the flock was always right behind them.
We should be long dead… the bastard is playing with us.
The deeper they reached, the more rampant the vegetation grew, a forest where trees rapidly grew out of nothing, decayed and returned to the earth, only to repeat their life cycle endlessly.
But the more he saw of the creatures and the shepherd, another thought was implanted into his mind. The number of his flock… isn't that much.
The more he observed the way the puppets were acting and the domain of the Shepherd working, the less uncertain he became.
Could this be…? Just a tier 1 as a shepherd? It somehow survived this long; the only reason it's still alive is because Nostra lowers its criminals into the Lawless Abyss. Because of the unique way it hunts, stealing away nutrients, it managed to stay alive, but it is just as desperate as we are.
It isn't playing with us… It leads us away from other Entities so it can munch on us in peace, but what can we even do against it?
Hunter knew that against a shepherd, no matter its tier, their options ranged from severely limited to outright none at all.
But the fact that it wasn't any stronger gave him a flicker of hope, no matter how foolish it was to cling to something so feeble as hope.
Hunter knew well how intoxicating hope is; thus, he couldn't allow himself to succumb to it.
Be it his life in the Tamara group high in the flying city of Nostra or down in the Lawless Abyss, hope was a fool's vice.
Strangely, he found himself more afraid of Altair than he was of the Shepherd. At least the Shepherd was clearly desperate, but Altair?
He couldn't figure him out.
Back on the beach of the Dead Waters, Altair didn't even attempt to fight for his life; he resigned to his fate even before they got into the lift.
Everyone from Red Mansion was unpredictable, and Altair was no different; this unpredictability was the last thing Hunter wanted to concern himself with.
The herd that only seemed to follow them without doing anything was enough to freak him out.
All of a sudden, he felt a strong grip on his shoulder. It was Altair who ducked, yanking him down with him. Altair hid behind a decaying tree, but it was still in clear sight for the Shepherd's flock.
What the hell is he thinking?! Hunter panicked as he observed their surroundings.
Countless hollow stares were aimed at them; behind every tree, a faint, twisted outline revealed itself.
"What the hell is going on?! What are you thinking, you madman?" Hunter couldn't hold it back in, turning to Altair with a still hushed voice.
Before the youth could have answered, another explosion could be heard through the tranquil forest, which in turn started another of its decaying cycles, almost as if it were caused by the sound of the blast.
However, the herd of the Shepherd ignored the explosion.
But also ignoring the two of them.
The members of the flock simultaneously took a step back, almost as if it was out of instinctual fear.
From the corner of his eye, Hunter finally saw the monsters and almost let out an audible gasp.
Some human features remained, but they were grafted onto monstrosities that resembled dismembered animals more than people — fangs where none should be, eyes and hands protruding from unnatural places.
But even these monsters took a step back out of fear.
The air around them grew unnervingly still, the only sound the fading ambiance of the surrounding world as it withered away.
Until an out-of-place noise made Hunter's ear twitch in alert.
First, it was just footsteps, but they were soon accompanied by the sound of a gentle whistle, almost playful in nature.
One of the flock members looked up, bearing its claws in alert.
Right before the sharp noise of its bones breaking roared louder than any of the beasts could.
Clap
Clap
Clap
The noise of someone leisurely clapping brought Hunter's worst nightmare to life.
The shade from the beach… it followed them.
But there was one positive fact about the situation: it targeted the Shepherd and its flock first.
"Now!"
Hunter yelled as he began to run with all his might. Behind him, only the sickening sound of bones fracturing one by one was made.
Not even the flock's beastly growls followed; their bodies were violently torn apart before a single sound could escape their throats.
By Hunter's side, Altair of the Red Mansion was running towards the thick smoke from a distance.
For now, they only needed to regroup with Butcher and the other convict.
But the closer they came to the source of the flames, the louder the silence roared in his ears. The disgusting noise of shattering bones was bad, but the quiet affected him more.
For the first time since arriving in the Abyss, Hunter felt the urge to smile as he caught sight of a familiar face from his organization.
"There you are, Butch, you don't even know how glad I am to see your stupid face." With a wide grin, he approached the two… only to stop in his tracks soon after.
Both of the convicts were gasping for air with heavy injuries on the ground.
"Hun…ter?"
"Butch! What the hell happened to you two?!"
Right beside Butcher, the other convict lay on the ground, heaving painfully while occasionally wheezing, sending chills down Hunter's spine.
Thankfully, as he looked back at Butcher, his wounds slowly started to close up, a red hue glimmering around the rapidly healing injuries.
In mere seconds, his wound fully closed up, and Butcher slowly rose from the ground with a pale expression.
"What did this do to you two?" Asked Hunter while Altair walked up to the convict lying on the ground.
"The Shepherd… that's what happened." Butcher spat in anger; meanwhile, Altair's chain jingled as he tore a piece of cloth from his jumpsuit's sleeve.
As Butcher noticed his chains, his eyes narrowed into a scowl.
"I understand wanting you dead, but there are so many easier ways… doesn't matter, do you have a way to take them down?"
"No."
Altair answered tersely; his focus was on applying pressure to the wound of the convict.
"If we get you a droplet, could you get them off?"
"Yeah. However, that's not feasible, is it? Do you want to get it from the Wolf or the Shepherd?" Altair felt like scoffing; instead, he focused his attention on applying pressure to the wound.
Hunter and Butcher exchange a confused glance, neither of them having heard this Red Mansion assassin talk this much before.
Looking closer at the wounds, he focused all his attention on the convict.
His body was beaten and bloody, his orange jumpsuit was mostly burnt away, with only some blackened strips remaining of it.
"What happened to him?"
"Oh, Firestarter?" Butcher just scoffed.
"Every time the puppets attacked us, he tried to fend them off,… well, He managed to anger the Shepherd. You can see where that brought us." Strangely, Butcher had a smile on his face.
"Wrong. We already have one right here."
Butcher gave no time for Altair to react before he grabbed a sharp ebony antler, stabbing it into flesh, splattering red across Altair's face.
Ignoring him, he crouched down, ripping out a small, yellow stone from the chest of Firestarter.
Around them, small leaves began to gently cascade down. Blood red in color, the leaves of autumn.
"Hurry… it already found us."
His expression didn't change; instead, he swiftly grabbed the yellow stone from Butcher, which was barely larger than his fingernail. A small teardrop-shaped yellow stone. Pressing it close to his chest until it slowly vanished.
When Altair next blinked, the Shepherd's domain was gone.
He stood in pitch-black darkness, unable to see even the tip of his nose.
Then, a single ember sparked up, blooming into a tiny flame.
Behind it, the face of a dead man emerged.