A chill ran down his spine—his heart shivered—just from what he had seen.
His head spun, and his stomach twisted, bile rising to his throat as if the whole world had tilted apart.
The air was thick with the stench of blood and rusted metal, an unbearable, rotting smell of death.
Every faint sound of the cord cracked the silence.
Dozens of half-alive corpses hung suspended in the air, twitching on their cords—alive yet stripped of their skin, whispering yet almost pleading.
Their eyes were torn from their sockets, their limbs misplaced, rearranged like broken dolls.
The worst part?
Some of the bodies' chests and stomachs were ripped open.
Just a few meters away, a transparent bucket held scattered organs—hearts, lungs, kidneys, and more.
Ibaan's breath caught in his throat.
He whispered, "What the hell…?"
