CHAPTER 88: CHAPTER 87: THE BUTCHER’S RITES BENEATH THE MOON

Chapter 87: The Butcher’s Rites Beneath the Moon

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After gathering Samantha, we found ourselves strolling through the city’s eerily tranquil streets. Despite its sheer size, there was an unexpected serenity to it. The air was fresh, with a generous sprinkling of greenery that defied the usual expectation of sprawling urban concrete. It was almost... quaint. A sharp contrast to the barren hellscapes I was more familiar with. I let out a soft breath, letting the quiet of the city wash over me.

Sophia, Samantha, and I settled onto a park bench, just sitting in stillness, watching the world unfold. The kind of peace that should be fleeting but, in this moment, seemed as though it could stretch on forever.

It was odd to be surrounded by lifeforms that weren’t Hive-affiliated or intent on ruining something. Nothing here demanded constant vigilance or power to subjugate. I could just be, for once.

Then, as if nature itself conspired to derail this rare peace, I felt a weight settle into my shoulder. I glanced down and saw Samantha, unconscious and drooling like a public embarrassment. She had passed out cold, her body sprawling onto me as though I were her personal mattress.

"Don’t mind her, my sweet," Sophia murmured, nuzzling into my other shoulder. "She’s been running on fumes for nearly 28 hours straight, since we learned you were on your way here. I suspect the proximity to you was the only thing capable of finally giving her some peace."

"Guess I’m good for something after all," I muttered, half-smiling at the absurdity of it all. The drooling—that part was especially dignified.

"I’ll take it," Sophia added with a chuckle, her voice as light as the air around us. But soon, her tone shifted back to business. "Oh, and yes, the time system here is based on Ecumenopolis 1’s standard. 24 hours, just like most places. But the planet’s natural rotation is 32 hours, so sometimes the workers wake up to sunrises and sometimes they wake up to darkness. It’s a bit disorienting for those not accustomed to it."

"Right." I nodded, absorbing the fact. "So, not a simple system, then."

Sophia let out a soft, almost amused hum. "Your species is adaptable, my love. If they weren’t constantly fighting amongst themselves and weren’t prey to other forces, they could be formidable adversaries."

A grunt of acknowledgment was my response. She wasn’t wrong. If humanity didn’t have a penchant for self-destruction, they might’ve been a threat. Too bad they spent more time battling each other than anything else.

We sat there for a few hours, watching the leaves stir in the cool breeze, before I finally nudged Sophia, signaling that it was time to call for our ride. True to form, the vehicle arrived within two minutes of her request. Samantha remained sound asleep, so I lifted her into my arms, barely breaking a sweat as I carried her to the vehicle.

Samantha was a surprising weight. The girl didn’t look like much, but the mutations running through her altered everything, including her musculature. Bone and muscle were denser and stronger than they should’ve been. Even without my Gyrokinesis, lifting her was a challenge, but one I could manage.

Settling her inside, I climbed into the vehicle beside her, letting the hum of the engines settle the rest of my thoughts. The flight back to the club was uneventful—peaceful, even. Samantha stirred halfway through, her face turning a deep shade of crimson when she realized I had carried her. I couldn’t resist teasing her about the drool stains on my shoulder.

By the time we landed outside the club, the sun had dipped low, leaving a red-hued sky in its wake. People were already streaming into the establishment, their laughter and chatter a soft background to the steady pulse of the city.

Our driver, a surprisingly pleasant man, opened the door for us and flashed us a genuine smile. "Good night, Master Irvine, Lady Sophia." He bid us farewell in a way that felt... almost authentic. I raised an eyebrow, impressed. A non-prick. A rarity in this line of work.

I glanced at Sophia, who raised her chin in acknowledgment. "Well, would you look at that," I muttered. "A decent one for a change."

As we entered the club, I realized something unpleasant—my stomach was staging a riot. Apparently, some creature of mine had decided that half my breakfast was a fair price for a brief nap.

"Soph," I said, trying to distract myself from the growling protests of my digestive system, "you mentioned the bar would serve food for another two hours before the drinks take over. I could really go for a bite. You want anything?"

Sophia shook her head, her serene smile still in place, though her eyes had darkened. "Nothing for now, my sweet. I have business to attend to. You should enjoy your meal in peace. Use my booth if you wish to avoid being disturbed. My staff has been informed."

And with that, we parted ways.

Sophia’s smile remained plastered on her face until she stepped inside the elevator, disappearing from my sight. The moment she was out of view, however, the façade shattered. Her face hardened, and her voice dropped to a cold, calculating tone.

"Did Keyla complete her task?" she asked, her gaze unwavering.

Samantha stood beside her, silent but watchful. "Yes, Mother," she replied in her soft, almost reverent tone. "Three hours ahead of schedule. She said it would’ve been four, but she stopped for food and had to clean up some... evidence."

Sophia sighed, though it was a sound laced with both affection and irritation. "That girl is nothing but trouble, but she is very good at her job."

The pair walked toward a sizable room, inside of which sat Keyla, sprawled lazily on a chair, surrounded by a disturbing sight—dozens of lifeforms, all bound and gagged, trembling with fear. Some were young, some old, and a few, I noted, looked familiar.

Upon hearing the door open, Keyla’s eyes lit up. "Apollo~! Oh, it’s just you two. Hey!" she greeted with a casual wave, completely ignoring the tense atmosphere.

Sophia, as usual, chose to ignore Keyla’s blatant disrespect. Some things, she’d already accepted as irreparable.

"How many, Keyla?" Sophia asked, her voice sharper now, though still restrained.

Keyla didn’t even bat an eye. "Quite a small batch, all things considered. Ninety, ninety-one if you count the main one over there."

Her head nodded in the direction of a man who, judging by the way the others flinched, was no ordinary captive. His identity was concealed by a bag, but I could feel the weight of recognition in the room.

Sophia regarded him with cool indifference before speaking again. "Well, Keyla, since it was your group that executed this operation, I think it’s only fair that you see it through fully."

Keyla’s face broke into a wide, gleeful grin. "Oh, Mother," she sighed dramatically, her voice thick with mock adoration. "That’s the second best thing you’ve done for me today!"

She clapped her hands loudly, causing the hostages to flinch. "Hello, hello, everyone! Are we having a good time tonight?"

Her eyes twinkled with a dark, twisted humor. "You fine ladies and gentlemen may not know me personally, but perhaps you’ve heard of my little moniker in the outer planetary news: ’The Sanguine Butcher.’"

A few of the hostages froze in terror. Nine, to be exact, their bodies stiffening as the name landed.

"Oh, how delightful. It seems I’m still famous," Keyla chirped, practically bouncing with excitement. "From ages eight to eighteen, I racked up 782 confirmed kills. And that’s not even counting the ones that the authorities never found."

Her voice dipped into a mocking sing-song tone. "Don’t worry, your names won’t be added to my tally. Isn’t that so considerate of me?"

Keyla turned and approached the man in the bag. With a sickeningly sweet laugh, she yanked the bag off his head, revealing his face to the hostages. Some of them screamed in horror as recognition dawned.

"Well, well, well... I see some of you recognize this man." Keyla’s voice gleamed with wicked delight. "This here is Kaeso Vibus. He made the rather unfortunate mistake of offending someone he shouldn’t have."

Kaeso’s frantic gaze swept over the room, but it was only when his eyes locked onto someone—his fiancée—that his face turned ashen, his breath caught in his throat.

Keyla grinned wide. "I think it’s time for you to explain to everyone just why they’re here tonight, Kaeso."

His voice cracked as he tried to speak. "Lady Sophia, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to offend you. I was just trying to protect you from a man following you! It’s my job! Please, I beg you, let me go. My fiancée and child, they don’t deserve this..."

Sophia remained silent, her expression unreadable.

Keyla’s eyes danced with malice as she turned back to Kaeso. "Ooh, sorry to break it to you, champ, but..." she moved his head, forcing him to look directly at his fiancée. "Your baby—Layla, was it? Such a lovely name. Too bad she’s dead. She tasted divine, by the way."

The fiancée screamed in agony, her sobs muffled by the gag, while Kaeso’s face fell into absolute despair.

"Now, now," Keyla tutted, replacing the gag, "no need to get all emotional."

Keyla drew a small knife from between her breasts, its blade glinting under the dim lights. She gave it a spin in her fingers before grinning at the room, her voice once more sliding into her sickeningly playful song.

"♪ Oh little butcher had a farm, Keyla was her name-O."

She danced through the room, leaving flinching victims in her wake. Each time she passed, she would deliver a soft, quick stab to one of them, the blade moving like a macabre ballet.

"♪ And on that farm, she had some pigs!"

With each pass, her knife found a new victim, each scream a part of the twisted rhythm she was creating.

"♪ With a... stab-stab here—" Another lifeform collapsed with a screech.

"♪ And a stab-stab there!" An elderly woman—her skin already pale—slumped, going into shock.

Keyla’s joy reached a crescendo, the room filled with pain, fear, and the sound of an innocent song twisted into something unrecognizable.

By the time she finished, the bodies of the old and the weak lay still, their bodies mutilated and broken. Keyla wiped the blade clean with a wicked grin, then turned to survey her work with mock sweetness.

"Oh, how quickly you all leave, just when we were starting to have fun," she purred, her fingers still coated in blood.

Her song lingered in the air, even after the last scream had died. And with it, the horrors of her playful ritual continued to echo through the room.