Chapter 77: The Phantom Heart
The roar of the golden revolver echoed through the narrow alley, a thunderous crack that signaled the start of a nightmare. Ren didn't hesitate; his aim was true. The bullet, infused with his desperate Vane energy, tore through the girl's forehead with surgical precision. Her head snapped back, and she collapsed onto the pavement like a broken doll.
Ren stood his ground, his chest heaving, his smoke-filled lungs burning. But he didn't lower his weapon. "That was too easy," he muttered, his instincts screaming that something was wrong. "Something is shifting..."
"Ren, behind you!" Adam's roar was the only warning he got.
Ren spun around, his heart leaping into his throat. Standing there, mere inches away, was the exact same girl he had just killed. There was no hole in her head, no blood on her face. She smiled—a wide, unnatural grin that stretched too far across her cheeks—and lunged at him with a jagged blade.
Ren barely managed to dive to the side, rolling over a pile of discarded crates. The girl's blade sliced through the air where his neck had been a second ago. The commotion was now drawing attention; the few civilians brave enough to be out in the morning were now screaming and running in every direction, clearing the street in a wave of panic.
I have to see what she is, Ren thought. He gritted his teeth and focused. "Vision... Activate!"
The world turned into a spectral blue. Ren tried to look at the girl's face, but the moment his gaze met her glowing yellow eyes, a familiar, agonizing pressure exploded in his brain. It was the same defensive barrier Hana had used.
"Argh!" Ren gasped, clutching his face as warm, thick blood began to leak from his tear ducts. The vision flickered, threatening to shut down.
"Ren! Are you hit?" Adam shouted, stepping between Ren and the approaching girl. Adam's daggers were out, his body coiled like a predator ready to pounce.
The girl let out a shrill, haunting laugh. "You cannot see the truth, little Vaner! Your eyes are too weak for the Master's light!" She blurred into motion, her speed increasing as she charged toward them.
"Adam, wait!" Ren shouted, wiping the blood from his eyes. He didn't turn off his vision this time; he adapted. He forced his gaze downward, looking only at her torso and limbs, avoiding her eyes completely.
In the blue-tinted world, her body appeared as a flickering shadow, but in the center of her chest, something was pulsing. It was a bright, angry red—the only spot of true color in her entire spectral form.
"Adam! Her heart!" Ren screamed, pointing his revolver. "The heart is the anchor! It's the only part of her that's real!"
Ren didn't wait. He began firing rapidly, not to kill, but to distract. The girl moved with terrifying grace, dodging the bullets as she closed the distance between her and Ren. She was focused entirely on him, her blade raised for a killing blow.
Suddenly, Adam disappeared.
It wasn't a normal movement. There was no blur, no sound of footsteps. There was only a crackle of static in the air, a scent of ozone, and then—Adam was gone.
In the blink of an eye, a sound like a thunderclap erupted behind the girl.
Before she could even turn her head, Adam materialized at her back. His hand moved with such velocity that Ren's eyes couldn't even track the motion. A spray of dark, purple blood erupted from the girl's back as Adam's hand tore through her ribcage and exited through her chest.
The girl's mouth opened in a silent scream, a fountain of blood spilling over her lips. She looked down in shock at the gaping hole where her heart used to be. She collapsed instantly, her body finally turning into grey ash that scattered in the wind.
Adam stood over the remains, his breathing heavy, his hand dripping with gore. In his palm, he held a dark, shriveled mass that still twitched with a faint, cursed energy. He threw the heart into the gutter with a look of pure disgust.
Ren stared at his friend, his jaw dropping. "That... that was too fast. I couldn't even see you move. Adam, what was that?"
Adam wiped his bloody hand on his trousers, his expression returning to its usual cold indifference. With a flick of his wrists, his daggers vanished into thin air.
"Wait," Ren said, stepping closer. "Those daggers... I thought you hid them in your gear. Do they spawn and despawn?"
"They are part of my Vane signature, Ren," Adam replied curtly. "I created them. They don't exist unless I want them to. Now, stop staring and move. We've wasted enough time out here."
Adam walked toward the shop's counter, his eyes fixed on the small, reinforced wooden door behind it. Without a moment's hesitation, he delivered a crushing kick to the lock. The wood splintered and the door flew off its hinges, crashing into the darkness beyond.
Ren followed Adam inside, his revolver raised. He expected an army of cultists, a hail of bullets, or another monster. But the "Church of Curses" was deathly silent.
The interior was massive, far larger than the shop outside suggested—a space warped by spatial Vane. The walls were lined with flickering black candles that cast a dim, eerie light over rows of empty wooden pews. At the far end of the hall stood a massive, faceless statue made of obsidian, its arms outstretched in a mocking embrace.
And there, at the foot of the statue, was Hana.
She was kneeling on the cold stone floor, her back to them. She was perfectly still, her hands clasped in front of her chest in that same, terrifying prayer pose. The black iron necklace on her neck was glowing with a steady, hypnotic yellow light that seemed to hum in the silence.
Adam began to walk forward, his hand already reaching for his daggers.
"Wait!" Ren hissed, grabbing Adam's arm. "Don't just rush in. We don't know what kind of trap this is."
Ren stepped forward slowly, his boots clicking softly on the stone floor. Each step felt like he was walking through thick mud. The air here was heavy, filled with the whispers of a thousand curses.
"Hana?" Ren called out, his voice trembling. "Hana, it's me. We're going home now."
Hana didn't move. She didn't acknowledge his voice. She just continued to whisper to the faceless god, her words a low, rhythmic chant that seemed to make the very shadows on the walls dance.
"Hana... please," Ren whispered, reaching out a hand toward her shoulder. "Look at me."