"Please, just leave… once you've caught that witch, just leave…"Tina silently prayed in her heart as she looked down at the crystal in her hands.
It was a magical tool she had paid a steep price for — through it, she could see what the paired crystal was observing elsewhere. She could already imagine what was happening inside the castle.
Either the Inquisition Knights would be annihilated by that hidden witch, or the witch would be captured by the Church's people.
Tina didn't know which it would be, but she had already exchanged for this one fragile thread of survival using her Authority of Trade — making a deal with the river of Fate itself.
As for what would happen to that other witch, she didn't care anymore.
Having grown up in the slums, Tina was like a stray dog — desperate to live, desperate to live better. For that, she would do anything. Betrayal, deceit, framing the innocent — it didn't matter. So long as it kept her alive, she would do it.
Even if that meant sacrificing another witch.
"…I just wanted to live," she whispered.
She clenched the crystal tightly, her eyes locked on it, unblinking. It didn't matter to her who won — the witch or the knights. She only wanted those knights to leave this place.
But when Pablo walked out of the castle holding that little girl in his hand, Tina froze.
Her mind went blank. An overwhelming wave of regret crashed over her.
"What… what have I done…?"
She stared, trembling, at the girl's tear-streaked face, before her knees gave out and she collapsed weakly onto the ground.
She had done something unforgivable — she had used a child to take the blow for her.
It wasn't just guilt that consumed her — it was betrayal of the very code she'd lived by her whole life.
"The first rule of the Stray Dog Gang," she murmured to herself, "Children are the hope of the future. Never, ever harm a child."
That rule was why she'd survived to this day. And since she had once received the kindness of others who followed it, she would now uphold it herself.
"Even if I only know how to make deals," she muttered, "that doesn't mean I can't fight."
With that, she began walking toward the cellar's exit. But just then, the image in the crystal suddenly shifted.
—
At the gates of the Cinnamon Castle, Pablo's group had just stepped outside.
A faint scent of blood wafted to their noses.
"What the… why does it smell like blood out here too? Am I imagining it?" "Probably just the blood inside the castle leaking out."
The knights chatted casually, unaware of the danger. But Pablo's brows furrowed deeply.
He raised his hand, signaling for everyone to stop.
"Something's off. It's too quiet here. I sent Bolna and the others to secure the city guard… why haven't we heard anything from them?"
Pablo scanned the streets cautiously, then handed the little girl to Alec. "Lock her inside the sealing chest."
"Yes, sir."
Alec quickly unstrapped the box from his back — the same coffin that had once held Brenda's body — opened it, and shut the girl inside.
The moment he did, a sound of footsteps echoed from the nearby alley. But the steps were heavy and stiff — not like anything a living person could make.
Every knight instantly tensed, swords drawn, eyes fixed on the alley entrance.
When the figures finally emerged, some knights sighed in relief.
"Oh, it's just Bolna's team. See? Nothing to worry about." "Yeah, I told you it was fine."
But before they could even relax, Alec shouted, his voice sharp with alarm:
"Look closely, damn it — they're not alive!"
A gust of wind parted the clouds overhead, and pale moonlight spilled down upon the figures.
Their faces were bloodless and stiff, their bodies covered in gore. With each step they took, chunks of flesh dropped from them like rotting fruit.
By the time they reached the knights, they were little more than blood-soaked husks.
"Corpses? No… Blood Corpses!" Pablo barked. "Everyone, keep your distance! Don't touch their blood — and show no mercy!"
With that roar, he swung his sword in a flash of holy light, cutting into the nearest one.
But in the next instant, the creature's flesh ballooned grotesquely — and exploded.
In a heartbeat, countless bloody projectiles shot out in every direction.
Pablo, standing at the front, bore the brunt of it.
But just as the crimson rain reached him, a radiant white light burst from his body, laced with threads of gold.
The moment the blood touched the light, it hissed into vapor — crimson mist dissipating harmlessly into the air.
Pablo stood untouched within the glow.
The others, however, weren't so lucky.
Though the knights had used their battle aura to protect themselves, they were nowhere near Pablo's level.
The Blood Corpses had been made from their own comrades — and their full-power attacks were devastating.
Several knights were grievously wounded before they could even react.
By the time the blood mist cleared, three of them were already dead, their bodies riddled with holes.
Alec was injured too, though only lightly. The others stood pale and trembling, facing what had once been their own brothers — now reduced to skin-wrapped skeletons, with not a drop of blood left in them.
As Pablo glared at the advancing horrors, his expression darkened.
This was no ordinary curse. Someone had deliberately turned the dead into these monstrous Blood Corpses.