Charles' prediction was absolutely correct. At this very moment, Ruth had shed the massive and terrifying form of her true body, reverting to the petite figure of a nun.
Now, she huddled in the corner of a dilapidated wooden shack in the slums, trembling.
The shack was cluttered with rotten wooden tables and chairs, the floor thick with dust. These things soiled her skirt, yet she paid them no mind. Using the debris as cover, she silently prayed that the white-haired human and Hattie would not find her here—that she might survive the Night of the Witches unscathed.
She wanted to flee farther, to find a cleaner place to hide. But in her current weakened state, she had no strength left.
She couldn't run any further. So, she had no choice but to take refuge in this filthy little shack, hoping the two outside would pass her by.
Footsteps echoed outside, and Ruth's heart leapt into her throat. Then, she heard the white-haired human's voice:
"I've searched this area—nothing. Hattie, any luck on your end?"
Hattie's voice followed:
"I found a few boxes that might be linked to devils, but no sign of Ruth."
The man's tone turned disappointed: "Ah, I see. Then she must have fled far. No chance of finding her tonight. Let's give up for now."
Hattie agreed: "Right. Back to the monastery we go."
Success!
Ruth's heart swelled with triumph as the footsteps faded. She exhaled sharply—only for hatred to surge within her, her teeth grinding in silent fury.
Human… Hattie… Just you wait.
Once dawn came, once the Night of the Witches ended and her strength returned, she would ensure they both suffered the most agonizing deaths imaginable. She would flay them piece by piece, strip their flesh slice by slice—and make sure they remained conscious for every excruciating moment.
"Good evening, Ruth!"
A familiar voice rang out.
Ruth's head snapped up—and there they were.
Charles and Hattie hovered in midair, having slipped into the room unnoticed. They gazed down at her with faint smiles.
Her purple-red pupils shrank to pinpricks.
They never left?!
She understood now. They had known her location all along. Their earlier conversation? A lie—meant to lull her into lowering her guard.
"NO—!" Her eyes flared with fury, but her petite frame shrank back against the grimy wall, making her look almost pitiful. "Get away, lowly humans! Do not dare sully me with your filthy hands!"
Hattie drifted down beside her, her expression softening with something like regret.
"Don't be afraid, Ruth," she coaxed. "It will hurt at first, yes—but only for a moment. Once the pain passes, you'll understand. The way Master fills your soul, the way your life finally finds meaning… it's indescribably beautiful."
Her words were gentle, but her actions were not.
Even as she spoke, black mist coiled from her fingertips. Ink-green tentacles erupted from the shadows, wrapping around Ruth's slender form, pinning her in place.
Hattie continued, her voice soothing. "And the Night of the Witches—the terror that has haunted us for so long—will trouble you no more. Look at me. Am I not unharmed? More than that…"
She pressed a hand to her chest. "The magic within me is richer than ever. I've grown stronger. This is a blessing, Ruth. For all of us."
She spoke earnestly, hoping Ruth would embrace purification willingly.
But it was impossible.
Ruth thrashed in the tentacles' grip, her resolve unshaken. "I don't want this, Hattie! Can't you see? Your soul has been rewritten!"
Her voice trembled with rage. "I felt it—that twisted change! The joy of severing a human's head, of savoring their terror, their confusion, their despair—it was pure ecstasy! But under that human's control, I was made to believe it was a sin. That I must spend the rest of my life atoning!"
Her teeth clenched. "Worse, sister—I can't even think freely anymore! The moment I recalled my plans—slaughtering a child's family before their eyes, or a mother's children before hers—I was flooded with guilt. Such unbearable guilt that I wanted to tear my own heart out!"
Her gaze burned into Hattie. "How can you stand this? Remember who you were! You reveled in tormenting mortals! And now? Look at you—weak, docile, leashed to a pitiful mortal like a tamed beast!"
A desperate plea laced her words. "Don't you miss it? The thrill of breaking minds? The sweetness of draining souls? How can you bear this humiliation?"
She was fighting—not just against the tentacles, but for Hattie's allegiance. It was her only hope.
But Hattie's eyes held only pity.
"Not at all," she said softly. "That hollow, meaningless pleasure—I never wish to taste it again."
With a sigh, she added, "It seems I cannot convince you. Very well, my dear sister. But it matters not. Soon, you will thank me for the choice I've made on your behalf."
Turning, she bowed slightly to Charles, who still hovered midair. "She is completely subdued, Master. Please grant my sister true freedom… and happiness."
Charles nodded, descending beside Ruth. He reached out, his hand poised above her head.
Realizing all hope was lost, Ruth erupted into frenzied curses.
"You wretched, vile insect of a human! Theresa will uncover your secrets! And when she does, she will torment your soul in ways beyond cruelty—!"
Her voice cut off abruptly as a milky Purifying Light erupted, engulfing her entirely.
Her face twisted in agony. A wounded, animalistic whimper escaped her throat—but soon, even that faded. Her beautiful purple-red eyes glazed over, clouded with confusion, as if her very self had been erased.
At last, her head lolled to the side, and she sank into slumber.
Purification—complete.
Charles opened his System, watching his Purification Points skyrocket from 550 to 2000. He nearly laughed aloud.
1,450 points in a single night!
Every moment of this had been worth it.
Beside him, Hattie beamed with joy. "Congratulations, Master, on purifying Ruth!"
"It's too early to celebrate," Charles said, forcing down his exhilaration. He shook his head. "The danger isn't over. Blackstaff Tower's agents are surely already on their way. We must return to the monastery—only then will we be truly safe."
"Understood!" Hattie nodded. Her hands shifted back into tentacles, binding Ruth's limp form.
Then, under the cover of night—before Blackstaff Tower could arrive—they vanished into the shadows.