A low, wet chuckle crawled through the darkness.
"Fun… so much fun…"
Deep inside a lightless cave, where even the concept of shadow felt generous, a figure in a tattered black robe rocked back and forth on his heels.
No torch, no lantern, no glowing crystal—just pure, suffocating black.
The absence of light made his wide, trembling grin look like a wound torn open in the void.
From somewhere deeper in the cavern came a choked, desperate whimper.
"—Mmph! Mmph—?!"
The robed man tilted his head toward the sound, smile stretching wider.
"What's wrong? Need help?"
The muffled prisoner—bound, gagged, and trembling on the stone—frantically nodded, eyes shining with pathetic hope.
The man giggled, high and childish.
"Then I'll help you. My way."
He lifted a massive, rust-stained hatchet above his head with both hands.
The prisoner's eyes bulged in terror as the blade began its descent.
And then—a tiny gray blur skittered across the floor.
"...What. A rat?"
The hatchet froze mid-swing.
The little creature paused, whiskers twitching, then vanished into a crack in the wall with a squeak.
The man's manic joy collapsed into a scowl.
"It was going to be perfect… Don't interrupt me…"
He lowered the hatchet with a disappointed sigh, like a child denied dessert.
Clicking his tongue, he glanced around the cavern.
Dozens of small bodies—boys and girls no older than fifteen—lay neatly arranged in rows, pale and unmoving, chests rising in shallow, unnatural rhythm.
Fresh stitches ran across their breastbones like crude zippers.
The man's smile returned, slow and reverent.
"No rush. There's still so many left. I have to savor it."
He dropped to his knees in the filth, clasped his hands together, and looked up at the lightless ceiling as if staring at heaven.
"Thank you… thank you…"
Then he threw his arms wide, voice cracking with ecstasy.
"My beloved Lord, Gluttony!"