She hadn't woken up, yet she saw IT, the things it has done, looking a blurred sight, she was horrified, yet so gleeful, seeing corpses stacked in an old shed, it arose her hunger once again, yet as IT said, she never got back control.
Her vision swapped, to a dark world, her body was still broken, without hope of revival, she could only wait, half-awake, half-dead.
Anne could hear every singular thing around her, then, faint footsteps echoed through the earth, though her body unresponsive, she could still feel herself getting lifted up, swaying in the air.
She was being carried, to where? By who? She doesn't know, she didn't have time to worry about those trivial questions.
After a long time, Anne felt a sudden pain—soul-crushing pain. It felt like her body was being destroyed, slowly. She felt a viscous liquid flow down her arm—was she being eaten alive by horrible creatures?
The pain stopped, too suddenly, she couldn't feel anything, Anne thought, 'Ah, Heaven, I don't deserve such salvation, yes? All that awaits me shall be hell.'
And within hell she woke up, a dark cave, the walls stone hard with crimson imprinted onto them. "Finally woke up eh? I rebuilt your body, Anne,"
Hearing her fake name, she panicked, who is this stranger? How do they know her? The light was too dim to see their face, but, after all, it didn't matter, the real question was how did they rebuild her body.
"Ah right I forgot to introduce myself once again, I'm Michael, my true self, that person you saw, it was IT controlling me."
Anne questioned him, "Isn't IT the incarnation of insanity? The god of this realm? The mere fact you're here means you're insane, no?"
"AHAHAHA," Michael burst out in laughter, "you'll find out.." His voice cracked, tone deep and serious. He lit a torch, held it up to his face.
Chunks of his face were missing, crimson flowing down his disfigured face, his jaw locked in an eternal scream, his pain wasn't hidable, yet there was no pain, his mouth seemed to crack at every subtle movement, yet he said so calmly—scarily so.
"Every end of a 'month' every injury gets healed, every creature gets revived, every pain you go through will be repeated, even demi-gods like that Fenrir you killed will come back." Then, a switch of tone, "Never kill anything for no reason, even if you're hungry..."
"HA..HA..ha...ha... Even if you weren't insane, coming here you'd become stained with these endless torture," Michael tried to laugh, to shake off the pain, the endless cycles of war, of slaughter.
"Ah, more things to kill more meat to eat, yes?" Anne smirked, then, a sudden fist came towards her face, "IT'S NOT THAT SIMPLE" Michael roared.
The dark blade appeared once again, Anne laughed, "How isn't it simple."
Michael held his hand out, a dagger appeared, blue and shimmering in the faint moonlight, "It's not just you that can wield these, my blade? It's called Diminished Moon, what about yours?"
A voice echoed through her head, "MY NAME? YOU AREN'T WORTHY TO KNOW" Anne's head exploded in a burst of pain, blood boiling, her face tensed, her muscles taunt, she suppressed the sword with pure brute force, "Ah, it seems there has been another worthy one after all that time?"
"Remember my name, Hells' Dancer,"