274 Aurora Haven-1

[Third Person View.]

The orphanage, known as Aurora Haven¹, stood amidst a sea of towering trees, their leaves forming a dense canopy that shielded the building from the prying eyes of the outside world. The structure itself, a modest two-story edifice, bore the scars of time with its weathered bricks and creaky wooden shutters.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting elongated shadows across the front yard, Aurora Haven took on an ethereal glow. The faded paint on the sign above the entrance hinted at a once vibrant establishment that had succumbed to the passage of years. The entrance gate, its hinges protesting with each movement, led to a narrow path flanked by overgrown shrubs.

The forest that surrounded the orphanage exuded an eerie stillness. Trees stood like silent sentinels, their branches reaching towards the heavens, creating a natural barrier that seemed to isolate Aurora Haven from the rest of the world. The air carried a sense of foreboding, as though the very atmosphere whispered secrets that lingered in the shadows.

Despite the fading daylight, an unnatural darkness cloaked the surroundings, casting long, menacing shadows that seemed to dance to a silent tune only they could hear. The windows of Aurora Haven, once the eyes through which the world inside observed the outside, now stood like empty sockets, absorbing the dimming light with a haunting emptiness.

A dreadful silence hung over the orphanage, broken only by the occasional creaks and groans of the aging structure. The unsettling calm seemed to precede an impending storm, a premonition that something, somewhere, was amiss.

A single room within the orphanage, the wardens' office, the air inside is thick with tension. The dim glow of a flickering candle barely illuminates the room, revealing worn-out furniture and faded portraits of long-forgotten caretakers. The silence here is palpable, a stark contrast to the turmoil that awaits just beyond the walls.

Underneath the sturdy wooden desk in the warden's office, a brunette girl huddles, her tearful eyes betraying a mixture of fear and despair. Her trembling form struggles to stifle the sobs that threaten to escape, echoing the silent plea for safety that permeates the orphanage.

Emily, the girl crying, looked ahead as two lifeless eyes stared back at her, making her question everything that had happened in the past few hours. She woke up to the sound of someone crying, and the next thing she knew, she was fighting. It was weird, but she saw it.

The skeletal, gore-covered bodies of those creatures spoke, but in a strange manner—it was like they didn't even feel the pain when she sent her spells at them with all her strength. It was some kind of powerful necromancer magic, but she couldn't understand it. The last thing she knew was that she dragged the wounded warden back into the office as she was hit by some kind of magic. What element was that ominous?

She questioned herself. The magic they used was weird, and the artifacts too.

*Creak*

Emily's heart raced as the ominous footsteps approached the room, their echo resonating on the cold floor. She flinched, drained of both mana and strength. The nightmare had become her reality, and her trembling hands betrayed the fear that gripped her.

With a desperate thought, she shifted her gaze towards the fallen warden's body, just an arm's length away. Despite the overwhelming terror, a spark of determination flickered in her eyes. She crawled out from under the table, and the footsteps paused—a silent acknowledgment of the impending danger.

Her trembling hand delved into the warden's robe pocket, retrieving a wand. It was a slim hope, a frail defense against the encroaching threat. She crawled back under the table, clutching the wand tightly in her trembling hands.

Then, a sudden, ominous sound interrupted the stillness.

*Thad*

Her eyes widened in horror as the warden's body exploded, blood splattering across the room. The lower lip quivering, she clutched the wand tighter, bracing for what would come next.

A pair of legs entered her field of vision—scaly and unnaturally long. The table was lifted, revealing the perpetrator behind the gruesome scene, the architect of this genocide.

Inhumane and imposing, the figure's lithe silhouette draped in flowing obsidian garments possessed a serpentine grace. Venomous intensity lingered in her eyes, and dark, coiling tattoos adorned her alabaster skin.

"Human... child, the last one..." Her voice, a whispering breeze, announced an impending fate.

Before Emily could react, the figure compelled her to act. A surge of determination coursed through her as she pushed a small amount of mana into the wand. Swiftly, before the magic could escape the other end, she bent and broke the wand.

Baam!

A deafening explosion echoed through the room, sending Emily hurtling backward. Anticipating the force, she tried to regain her footing, preparing to escape. However, a small dark rift materialized before her face.

"All of them are as useless as they get," Vexis² cursed. Her hand emerged from the spatial rift, seizing Emily's throat. The grip tightened, slowly suffocating the life out of her. Emily's face turned red, then blue, until she succumbed to the merciless grip.

Vexis retracted her hand, leaving Emily lifeless in the aftermath of the explosion.

With calculated steps, she made her way toward the open grounds of the orphanage, her flowing obsidian garments trailing behind her.

As she approached, the horrifying scene unfolded—hundreds of lifeless bodies, a haunting mosaic of children and adults, scattered across the ground. Weird-looking creatures, low-

class demons, roamed among the corpses like scavengers after a morbid feast.

Noticing a demon dragging Emily's lifeless form, Vexis watched as it callously threw her into a pit of bodies. The pit was surrounded by a macabre display—strange inscriptions and magic stones adorned the ground, forming a sinister circle.

"Begin," Vexis muttered, her voice carrying an unsettling command. A robed demon, distinguished from the others, walked towards the circle. Seating itself near the edge, the demon began an incantation, chanting words that resonated with dark energy. Outstretching its hand, a malevolent force gripped the lifeless bodies.

One by one, the bodies started to melt, the grotesque transformation releasing a nauseating scent that permeated the air. The circle filled with a horrifying concoction of flesh and bone turning into a ghastly, viscous mush.

"Eat," Vexis commanded, her tone devoid of any compassion.

In response, the low-class demons, their hunger insatiable, erupted into a guttural chorus of raw, primal sounds.

"Rawwwwww!"

With voracious intensity, they dived into the circle, devouring the repulsive amalgamation of melted bodies. Their actions mirrored hungry pigs feasting without restraint, a grotesque display that transcended the boundaries of horror.

Vexis stood there, a sinister figure overseeing the macabre banquet. The scene unfolded with a surreal and nightmarish quality, a testament to the malevolent power she wielded. The orphanage grounds transformed into a hellish tableau, echoing with the chilling sounds of demonic feasting—a dark symphony orchestrated by Vexis herself.