And at that very moment, a loud and unnatural ringing sound pierced the air — like the sky being torn apart by nails. A fierce wind blew. Flames leapt higher, and shadows on the ground began to twist and writhe; as if something… or someone… was emerging from the blood-red lines.
A heavy silence enveloped everything.
Vantius held his breath. His heartbeat pounded in his ears.
And suddenly — a faint, trembling, and breath-stealing sound:
The cry of a newborn.
Not a scream, not a shout, not an evil laugh… but a pure, painful, and terrified wail.
Vantius and Vensing exchanged a look of horror. The cry didn't come from within the flames… nor from beyond the circle of blood… but from somewhere much closer. Much, much closer.
In the heart of this hell, innocence had survived — or perhaps, had just been born.
Vensing whispered:
"A baby?…"
But neither of them knew… that cry was either a sign of salvation — or the beginning of something far darker.
One of the masked men inside the ring of blood lifted the baby with both hands. Drops of blood still dripped from the freshly cut umbilical cord, and the child's face, swollen from crying, was bluish in the cold night. A man's voice rang out, loud and furious in the darkness:
"An offering to win the favor of the gods…"
His hands did not tremble. He drew a long, curved knife from his robe and in one swift motion plunged it into the tiny chest of the newborn. The baby's whimper ceased… and blood poured out like a red river from the fragile body.
A scream erupted.
"Someone help! Please!"
A man among the captives shouted with a torn throat, but his voice was just an echo lost in the night. There was no response. No hope.
The mother of the baby among the captives beat herself against the ground. Her hair was disheveled, her hands bound, her face bloody and bruised… she screamed a scream that tore at the heart, but it was useless. She was only a witness to the murder of her newborn.
And in that moment, it felt as though the whole world was collapsing before her eyes.
Time stood still.
And then, the masked men calmly began.
They tore the lifeless body of the baby into pieces. Each took a part: a tiny hand, a delicate foot, a piece of the chest. They skewered the flesh and placed it over the flames that had been heated by the warm blood. The smell of burning flesh spread in the air. The sound of fat dripping onto the fire was like a demon's roar in Vantius' ears.
Vantius couldn't bear it.
He knelt, lowered his head, and then raised it again. The muffled sound of his vomiting was swallowed by the whispers and laughter of the masked men. His body trembled. His whole being burned.
Vensing spoke softly:
"Now… do you understand why I said we have to be careful? These things… they drive a man insane…"
Vantius, with tearful eyes and a heart full of hatred and fear, stared at the hellish scene. He was no longer just a witness; he had become part of this nightmare…
When suddenly… his eyes caught a glimpse of a girl.
His gaze fell on a young girl — about ten years old, with golden hair and hazel eyes. She was looking directly at Vantius; as if she sensed the presence of him and Vensing. Her eyes screamed for help, but Vantius could only stare.
Vensing was completely stunned, thinking, "That girl… she's still alive, and she's asking for help." He kept hearing voices:
"Dad! Help me!"
Vantius kept staring at the girl, feeling hopeless and powerless to change or save any of those children.
Vensing wanted to stand up and rush to fight them, but Vantius grabbed his hand tightly and quietly said,
"What are you doing, fool? You want to get yourself killed? There are at least thirty of them… if you attack now, you'll die."
Vensing grew angry but did not raise his voice. His face shook with rage as he said,
"You want to let this continue?"
Vantius lowered his head and said,
"A direct attack… is just suicide. It won't fix anything… We have to do something else."
Vensing closed his eyes and tried to think rationally. For a moment, his focus faltered as he remembered his daughter — a moment that could erase years of experience, war, and emotional control in a blink. It showed how even the most seasoned could make mistakes in moments like these.
Vantius' face was grim, but his mind searched for a way… anyway to win.
Vensing seemed unable to accept the reality and said with a hesitant and sorrowful tone,
"One of us has to go get reinforcements, the other stays here to watch and report on their actions…"
Vantius frowned, his face contorted with anger, and said sharply,
"You want to let them do whatever they want to innocent people?"
He waited for a response but continued quickly,
"Vensing… who knows how long it will take for help to arrive? Eventually, if we don't act fast, there won't be anyone left to protect…"
Vensing closed his eyes, grew more angry, clenched his fists, and ground his teeth before saying,
"I know that better than you… but…"
"But there's no 'but' right now… it's time to act" Vantius said.
Vensing looked once again at the children and women being tormented and killed, at their innocent eyes, at the helpless families — thinking of his daughter and wife, and the horrors this blood cult had brought upon his own family, now being inflicted on others…
His heart suddenly filled with fury and warmth. He clenched his teeth, gripped his sword tightly, looked at Vantius, and said:
"I'll do it!"
Vantius smiled and said:
"Alright, here's the plan—"