The Harem of Juicy MILFs

Chapter 41: New Lead [9]

Gehrman did not stop. He climbed the floors as if following a path traced in advance, his steps echoing on the worn stone with an almost mechanical regularity. Seyon guided them, her body still shaken by tremors, but her legs now obeyed fear more than will. She knew the shortcuts, the passages that the monsters avoided, the zones where the smell of the creatures’ blood was so strong that no beast ventured there.

Hae-neul followed in silence, her eyes constantly sweeping the shadows. Seyon led them through forgotten corridors, rusty ladders, suspended walkways above chasms where a thick fog floated like cotton.

The air grew heavier, laden with a saline humidity that clung to the skin. The sound of the waves mingled with the wind, a dull and continuous rumble that seemed to come from everywhere at once. Then, on the forty-ninth floor, the architecture changed. The dark stone walls gave way to cracked marble columns, crumbling mosaics depicting scenes of battles and sacrifices. Broken statues lay on the ground, their faces eroded by time and humidity.

The fiftieth floor opened before them like a gaping wound. The fog was so dense that one could not see more than ten meters ahead. It crawled along the ground in lazy swirls, concealing the ruins that emerged here and there like bleached bones. Crumbled walls, collapsed arches, broken columns. In the distance, the surf of waves against invisible cliffs. The place smelled of death and salt, an acrid scent that clung to the nostrils.

"So?" asked Hae-neul, her voice cutting through the moist silence. "Where is the base of your organization?"

Seyon stopped. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Her eyes scanned the fog, searching for a landmark, a direction, something that could save her from what was to follow. Suddenly, a hand seized her throat.

The pain was immediate, an iron vise that crushed her trachea. She felt her back hit a stone wall, the impact knocking the breath out of her. Gerhman was there, his face a few centimeters from hers, his eyes shining with an impatient gleam.

"I... I want..." she stammered, her fingers clawing at Gerhman’s wrist with no effect. "Please... don’t kill me..."

"Tsss..." Gerhman clicked his tongue, a sharp sound that echoed in the fog. "Listen carefully, you are not in a position to negotiate. I will decide myself whether you should live or die."

Then he released her, letting her body slide down the wall, her legs giving way, her hands massaging her bruised throat. She coughed, gasping for air in gulps, tears in her eyes.

"Now, speak," ordered Gerhman, his hands back in his pockets.

Seyon spoke. Her voice was hoarse, broken, but the words came out without her being able to hold them back.

The base was located on solid ground, somewhere in the heart of the ruins, hidden by the fog and the remains of a submerged city. Their leader was a bald man, a fanatic who called himself the Prophet. According to her, he was preparing to rise to the level of a Herald. The blood draws from monsters were only part of the process. He had to succeed in order to climb the ranks, she was certain of it.

"If you do not control yourself," intervened Hae-neul in a mocking voice, "your superiors will know that you have betrayed them. And then... well, you know what awaits you."

Seyon’s face drained of all color. Her hands trembled, her fingers twitching like dead leaves.

"Try not to die before being useful," added Hae-neul as she turned around.

Seyon got up unsteadily. She adjusted her dress, swallowed her fear, and led them through the ruins. Her gaze no longer met theirs. She had understood her place.

The entrance to the base was a rusty iron door, set into what must have once been a temple. Two sentries stood in front, their crude armor adorned with symbols that Gerhman did not recognize. Oil lamps flickered at their feet, casting dancing shadows on the stone walls.

When they saw Seyon, their shoulders relaxed. But their gaze lingered on Gerhman and Hae-neul.

"Who are these two?" asked one of them, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

"New recruits," replied Seyon, her voice regaining a semblance of assurance. "They want to join the cult."

The sentry frowned, his eyes scrutinizing the two figures. He said nothing. This kind of situation was common. Desperate people, fanatics, madmen drawn by the promise of power. He nodded.

"And the others?" asked his companion. "Those who were with you?"

Seyon felt her heart stop. Her face froze for a fraction of a second. But she recovered, forcing her features to remain neutral.

"They decided to stay on the lower floors, to make more collections." She shrugged, a gesture she hoped was casual. "The Prophet needs more material. I was chosen to bring these two back."

The sentries exchanged a look, then nodded. One of them gestured toward the door.

"Go ahead. The Prophet is in the main hall."

Seyon went ahead, her steps hurried on the worn tiles. Gerhman and Hae-neul followed her, their faces impassive. Behind them, the sentry watched Hae-neul for a long moment, his eyes narrowed by a fleeting suspicion. Then he turned, returning to his watch.

The corridors were narrow, lit by torches whose flames danced in an invisible draft. Inscriptions covered the walls, symbols that made him raise an eyebrow. From time to time, they crossed paths with members of the cult. Men in dark robes, with eyes shining with fanaticism; no one stopped them.

Gerhman suddenly slowed down, stopping in the middle of a corridor.

"Since when has this base been here?" he asked.

Seyon turned, surprised by the question. "I don’t know exactly. But... surely since the appearance of the tower."

Gerhman nodded, as if this answer confirmed a thought he had had. He resumed his walk, his eyes scrutinizing the shadows, the corners, the locked doors they passed.

They arrived in front of a massive door, its black wooden panels inlaid with metal. A smell floated in the air. A smell that Gerhman knew well. The smell of fresh blood. He pushed the door.

The scene that presented itself to them was of unparalleled cruelty. The room was vast, an old nave whose stained-glass windows had been shattered, letting in a grayish fog. Hundreds of bodies lay on the ground. Some were piled in grotesque pyramids, their limbs twisted in impossible angles. Others were suspended from metal hooks, their bodies drained of blood, their pale skins glistening under the flickering torchlight. The floor was a reddish pool, puddles snaking between the tiles, forming patterns that had nothing natural about them.

Hae-neul felt rage rise in her like a black tide. Her fists clenched, her fingers whitening. She turned toward Seyon, her eyes flashing.

"You know this place?" she asked, her voice barely more than a growl.

Seyon opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She looked at the bodies. She recognized them. Faces she had crossed. Members of the cult and sacrificial victims that the Prophet had offered for his experiments.

Hae-neul saw the recognition in her eyes, she sprang forward. She threw herself at Seyon, her hands seeking her throat. But Gerhman intervened. He seized Hae-neul’s wrist with speed, stopping her short.

Hae-neul pulled away, her eyes filled with anger. "Why are you protecting her? She knew! She led these people here!"

"She will stay alive as long as she is useful to me. If you want to vent your anger, do it on those who are here," replied Gerhman, his gaze sweeping the room.

Hae-neul stepped back, her shoulders tensing. She looked at the scene of horror, then raised her eyes toward Gerhman. Her anger had not subsided.

"You are right," she said, her voice lower. "I need to talk with you."

Gerhman nodded.

"I am going to eliminate them all," declared Hae-neul, her words falling with such coldness that they chilled the blood. "Each one of them. Down to the last."

"Do as you please," replied Gerhman with a shrug after looking at her for a moment.

Hae-neul turned around, her steps echoing on the tiles. She disappeared into the shadow of a side corridor.

A few minutes passed. Silence fell again on the room, broken only by the hoarse breathing of Seyon, still crouched against a wall, her eyes fixed on the lifeless bodies.

Then a great tremor was felt. Immediately, the base’s alarms began to sound, a sign that an attack had begun.

"It looks like it has started..." remarked Gerhman as he turned to leave. "By the way, you would do better not to escape."