Swoosh!" It suddenly moved two of its thin arms forward in a movement faster than Ken could follow.

"Ahh!" Ken wailed as one of the monster's palms wrapped around his torso, pinning his arms to his side, while the other coiled around his thigh, lifting him effortlessly from the ground.

That instant proved that the creature's arms weren't muscular, but were still impossibly strong, for he was completely immobilized, dangling in the air like a doll.

The creature then drew him closer, its enormous, galago-like face filling his entire world.

The scent of sulfur and damp fur filled his nostrils. The chittering growls of the beast growing louder, more intent.

It wanted to eat him, and all Ken could do was stare into those abyssal eyes, afraid, paralyzed.

At that moment, the beast opened its maw, exposing its surprisingly large, human-like teeth, and fearing his end, Ken closed his eyes.

But he did not feel the pain of his bones being crushed and chewed. Rather, he heard a sickening "crack!" that forced his eyes open.

When he did open his eyes, he was met with the sight of the creature biting its own finger with so much force that it severed from the whole of one of its arms.

"Grreee!" The creature then growled, retrieving the saliva-coated finger from its maw.

At that moment, the creature then brought forth another arm, and carefully pinched his jaw forcing Ken to open his mouth.

The sides of its thumb and index finger covered half his face, the pressure making the bones of his jaw creak.

Ken had become a study in absolute despair, his eyes hollow, fully expecting his death.

"Whoosh!" The air tore as the creature then moved, shoving the oversized finger down Ken's throat in an act so forceful that Ken felt the skin of his lips and the flesh of his esophagus tear from the sudden, forceful motion.

Despite his despair, the instinct of self-preservation (never wholly dormant) compelled him to fight, to struggle and wiggle in the creature's immovable grip.

The pain of the act almost drove him mad, but the creature did not stop; it continued, slowing down after the initial sudden motion, but that only prolonged the agony.

And as the creature pushed the finger into him inch by agonizing inch, Ken felt it begin to dissolve in his throat, flowing into and through his organs (a sizzling, acidic chill that made his muscles twitch).

Soon, the finger had dissolved entirely, leaving him with nothing but a numb, throbbing pain and the constant, nagging certainty that something was terribly wrong inside his body.

It felt like a thousand worms had begun wiggling inside him, but the creature did not stop there.

Rather, it released his upper body and used that free limb to grasp one of his arms, and used another free limb to hold the other hand.

With his two arms firmly held, the creature then released his thighs and grabbed hold of his two legs.

With its two remaining hands, it held his torso in place, and at first, Ken did not know what was happening (he did not wish to know); he only wished for his death to come sooner, until-

"Squilch!" The sound of flesh ripping and bones cracking rang out in the forest, and a pained, strange-sounding scream tore from Ken's lips like an explosion.

Was it a scream for help? For someone to somehow free him from this agonizing nightmare?

No, it rather sounded like a scream of absolute despair.

He screamed and screamed, but it only caused more pain; his throat had been ruptured from the inside, yet what could he do?

He wanted to flail, to thrash wildly, but he had no arms, as he had no legs, reducing him to a mere torso.

The creature in act so horrific had ripped his limbs from his whole so suddenly that his blood spewed in all directions, and his bones snapped like dry twigs.

"Thud!" The creature dropped his torso onto the soil, his limbs still clutched in its other hands. And Ken, despite his state, got to watch as it stuffed all four of them into its maw.

And then it began to chew, its horrific form turning away and disappearing into the forest in a wild sprint.

"Badump!" Ken then felt his heart begin to beat, pounding in his chest, and despite the fact that he had no arms or legs, he felt a phantom tingle in them.

It was a strange notion, hell he was supposed to be dead right now, but Ken could feel his body changing in real time in ways he never thought possible.

And so he gritted his teeth against the pain, his mind returning to the woman who had caused this.

Who was she?

What was she?

----------

Meanwhile.

"...heard she was a sophomore in the psychology program..."

"...my roommate said the killer used a fucking butcher knife..."

"...it's a cult, I'm telling you. The rat is some kind of symbol..."

"...the police have no leads. It's like a ghost..."

Mr. Valen walked on campus, listening to the chattering and theories of the students around him.

It was evening, and the sky had almost completely blackened. The world was illuminated by the campus's artificial lights, which in truth felt no different from the cold, unfeeling sun.

At the moment, he was heading toward one of the campus bars, having been pestered into it by Vincent all day.

Classes had been officially cancelled, a rare move that only amplified the sense of crisis for (according to what he heard) it had never happened before even during the last two murders.

'The administration's attempt to project order and control has instead allowed them a whole day to dissect the incident. And I was looking forward to classes today,' Mr. Valen thought, taking a large breath.

It was not all bad, though, as Mr. Valen was also a student, and so he sifted through the gossip, comparing it against his own observations of the incident.

'The precision of the initial attack is being overlooked in the face of the grandiose display that mimics Amethyst's style. What killed that woman is the small dot on her forehead, most likely an attack from a precision instrument, that injury matches the MO of the other two murders,' Mr. Valen thought to himself, thinking back to how he had to visit the crime scene a second time to even catch a proper glimpse of it.

The other wounds (the arrow that had been driven up through the jaw and into the cranial cavity) had been inflicted post-mortem.

The decapitation and dismemberment, however, were a different story despite the fact that it had also been done after.

'The cuts on the arms and neck were rough, jagged. Not the work of a surgical blade, but something cruder (perhaps a serrated knife or even a small saw?) If so, then the force required would be significant, suggesting either considerable strength or frantic effort. Subpar equipment, significant strength. Trinity lacks the strength and the determination to use this method, was it Albright, then?' Mr. Valen pondered once more, ultimately deciding to see if he could check them both off the list.

By now, he had arrived at his destination (a low building with fancy wooden doors), and so he pushed the doors in front of him and entered inside.

'So this is the Rutherford Hole,' Mr. Valen thought as he looked around. The place seemed like a bar that went for the aesthetic of the older parts of RD University, with its dark wood panels and rough RD insignias.

The interior of the place was packed with students drinking and chattering away in the low light environment, the clinks of their glasses against the wooden tables sometimes overwhelming the sound of chatter and laughter.

Mr. Valen tried to listen in, but the conversation here was less fearful and more intoxicated, prompting him to lose interest rather quickly.

His eyes then scanned the room and landed on a booth in a corner, 'There they are,' he thought as he observed them.

There was Vincent conversing with a large tankard in hand, while Sophie listened, her brows furrowed, Alice was sipping dark liquor from a glass, the drink seemingly making the look in her eyes sharper rather than intoxicated, and besides her was Trinity, smiling, a vacant, pleasant-looking expression that didn't quite reach her eyes.

'I know a fake smile when I see one,' Mr. Valen thought. He dipped his hands into his pockets, sighing bitterly at his own destitution. He found it almost comical.

He had intended to use the cancelled day to figure out his money problem, or at least make some progress in breaking Amanda, but this was a more pressing opportunity.

He needed to observe their reactions, to verify Trinity's guilt or innocence, and to see if Alice's suspicion would boil over in a more social setting. 'I truly am curious to see how Alice will handle her nagging suspicion.'

With that thought in mind, he reached the edge of their table, the wood slightly sticky with spilled beer and immediately, four pairs of eyes turned to him.

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