The rain in the Forsaken Woods didn't fall; it screamed.
Evelyn wiped the black blood from her surgical needle, her eyes cold as she looked at the workbench. Most people called her a witch. The Church called her a blasphemer. But Evelyn preferred the term 'Architect.' She didn't just kill; she redesigned life.
A heavy thud against her cabin door made her freeze.
She grabbed her silver scalpel, approaching the door with silent footsteps. When she swung it open, she didn't find a monster. She found something much more dangerous to her existence: a Paladin.
Sir Alaric. The Golden Son of the Holy Empire. The man who had spent the last three years hunting her.
He was kneeling in the mud, his white cape soaked in crimson. A cursed blade was lodged in his chest, right where his holy heart beat. His eyes, usually filled with righteous fire, were dimming. He looked up at Evelyn, gasping for air, his hand reaching out not to strike, but to beg.
"Finish... it..." he wheezed.
Evelyn leaned down, her fingers tracing the cold armor of his chest. "I should let you die, Sir Alaric. The world would be quieter without your prayers."
But then, she felt it. A strange, distorted hum from the void. The threads of fate were tangling. The 'Great System' that dictated their world was glitching, trying to tie her dark soul to this dying light.
"No," Evelyn whispered, a wicked smile playing on her lips. "Death is too easy for a Saint. I want to see what happens when the Sun starts beating with the pulse of a Demon."
She dragged his heavy, unconscious body into her workshop. On her shelf sat the 'Chimera Core'—a pulsating, forbidden organ she had spent years stitching from the remains of a Dragon, a Vampire, and a Great Beast. It was an abomination. It was a sin.
And tonight, it would be his new heart.
Evelyn picked up her needle, the silver shimmering in the candlelight. "Forgive me, Alaric. But you're about to become my greatest masterpiece."