Leaping across the rooftops of In Medias Res, Zack and K blended into the darkness, becoming one with the night — shadows amidst the great hunt. The black mist hung thick and suffocating over the city like an ominous omen. The citizens of the lower district knew the signs well: lock the doors, shutter the windows, and stay utterly silent.
Up high, however, it was a different story. The wealthy regions of the city shone brightly, streets bustling with nobles indulging in their whims. The black mist did not frighten them — they ignored it as if they were immune to the Void. Gambling dens, brothels, and slave markets formed the grotesque glamour of the elite. There, blue eyes were the norm; a mark of nobility etched into every face.
Emerging from the shadows of the lower district, Zack pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket.
Name: Pratt Zanola
Age: 35
Height: 6'2"
Features: Blue eyes, black hair
Reason: (Rape)
"Master, he's from the Zanola Family. It's going to draw a lot of attention," K whispered.
The response came like a blade — swift, cold, and merciless:
"He was paid for. His father sold parts of his body to get money."
The silence that followed was heavy. A cruel answer for an inhuman act. K knew, just by looking into Zack's eyes, that Pratt's death would not be quick.
As they moved toward the district of lights, the overwhelming illumination made stealth harder, but it was nothing they hadn't faced before. Slipping through alleys and jumping from house to house, they advanced until they spotted their destination: a massive bar drenched in pulsing red lights, more a brothel than any ordinary bar.
This was Dragon House territory.
Zack and K entered discreetly through a bathroom window. Inside, a few men were laughing and talking loudly. They were quickly knocked out and their clothes taken.
Wearing baseball caps and dark sunglasses they had brought for the job, Zack and K melted into the crowd.
The pounding music shook the walls. Symbols of dragons and twisting serpents danced along the walls in hypnotic patterns — a clear reminder of who ruled this rotten corner of the world.
There, Zack could already feel it. Oscillating energies, chaos pulsing through narrow corridors and behind closed doors. Loud music shattered the air, mixed with screams, drunken laughter, and moans.
"How will we know he's here?" K asked, her voice nearly swallowed by the noise.
"He's here," Zack replied without hesitation. "My informant confirmed it an hour ago."
His voice was a blade.
"We'll go door to door."
Each door was a new hell.
K and Zack already knew what awaited them, but even so... every step was a punch to the soul.
Behind each door:
— Slaves being mutilated and humiliated.
— Women being verbally and sexually abused.
— Monsters in cages, devouring still-breathing people while nobles roared with laughter.
— Children sacrificed for twisted pleasures.
— Orgies where violence and blood oozed down the walls.
With every door opened, the stench of corruption grew stronger.
The blue eyes of the nobles gleamed like beacons from hell as they committed their horrors.
And those who suffered — all of them — had eyes like Zack and K: black as the void.
The sickening smiles of the tormentors blended into the atmosphere, contaminating the air, suffocating sanity.
They were demons. Every single one.
K trembled. Rage pulsed in her chest, poisoning her thoughts.
Her fists clenched so tightly that her nails tore into her own flesh. Blood dripped.
She stumbled over to a trash can and vomited, her body rejecting what her mind tried to endure.
But the laughter...
The damned laughter still echoed, mocking her, trying to shatter her.
In a swift, rare gesture of tenderness, Zack pulled her into his arms.
He hugged her tightly, cradled her face with both hands, and kissed her forehead with a fierce gentleness.
"I'm here," he whispered. "Count to ten... and breathe, K."
With each number, her breathing slowed.
The storm inside her began to calm.
For a moment, the world seemed a little less rotten.
"That's why I didn't want you to come," Zack murmured, his voice rough with emotion.
"You're not ready yet... nor is the boy. But now... be strong. We finish this."
K nodded, her body still trembling, but her will hardened.
They moved forward.
At the end of the corridor of horrors, they realized: he wasn't there.
But Zack... Zack now knew exactly where Pratt Zanola was waiting for them.
The Blood Feast at the Dragon Bar
At the end of the corridor, Zack and K advanced in silence toward the Dragon Bar. From afar, they spotted Pratt Zanola seated on a chair, shackled by chains, before slaves kneeling like dogs. Pratt, in his sick delight, tossed bits of food into their mouths as they leaped and snarled like beasts. Around him, nobles roared with laughter, women "entertained" the wealthy gentlemen, and the king's soldiers stood guard.
The hall was a macabre display of ostentation: dragons carved into the ceiling; gleaming silver chandeliers; tables and chairs trimmed in gold. The soldiers feasted on rare delicacies, clad in violet armor inlaid with gold and wielding silver swords. Some even abused the slaves, lost in their sadistic pleasures.
K clenched her fist, her voice hoarse:
"
I can't… I feel so—
"
In the blink of an eye, Zack was no longer by her side. K recoiled as he materialized before her, wreathed in black smoke. His cap and sunglasses were gone; his face was freed and twisted into a mad grin. The Black Eyes of the Void drew every ounce of energy from the room as he spun in the air like a whirlwind.
Suddenly, the Black Moon blade flared, devouring the surrounding light. Zack's frenzied laughter rang out, and carnage erupted:
— Heads fell.
— Swords clanged against armor.
— Nobles were decapitated in the half-light.
The torches were snuffed; only sparks of steel and terrified screams remained.
Women fled in panic, but there was nowhere to hide. Bodies were torn apart—arms, legs, skulls strewn across the floor. It was a blood-soaked theater, and the victims its grotesque cast. The soldiers begged for mercy, but Zack cut them down without pity.
K ran to the door, bracing it with all her strength. Every strike of metal sounded like a death knell: "PAH! CLACK! PAAH!" Gradually, the onslaught faded until only deadly silence remained, swallowed by the Void's black smoke.
In the Dragon Bar, only the echo of the blood feast endured.