Chris's boots slammed against the broken pavement as he ran. His right hand was pressed hard against his left shoulder, his fingers covered in blood as he clumsily tried to stop the bleeding from the wound.

Every step he took sent a jolt of pain through his collarbone, down his spine, into his legs, but he kept running. Despite the pain, he kept looking over his shoulder into the night.

The mission was supposed to be simple.

Infiltrate one of the cult bases, learn about the elites among them, and bring back any useful information. However, the moment he set foot inside the abandoned factory that doubled as their base, things went south.

It wasn't a low-tier forward base as Chris was told. It was more like the cult's regional headquarters. The plan was a bust from the minute he walked inside.

But that didn't mean he couldn't get any useful information. Something ridiculous was about to go down in the next trial of the new recruits, and Chris had to inform the higher-ups about it.

If not for that information, he would have gone all-out and taken down a few cultists with him to hell. Getting that information into the right hands took importance over his life.

Branches whipped across his face as he burst through a thicket, stumbling onto a narrow path. As he did, the thunderous sound of footsteps followed him relentlessly.

"They just don't know when to give up…" Chris said through gritted teeth.

Suddenly, a strange pain flared up in his leg. Before Chris knew it, he fell on the ground… his leg remained in the spot he had just been standing.

"ARGH!"

The painful scream only attracted more cultists to him. With a severed leg, escape was impossible and death… it won't come easy.

Several cloaked figures appeared before him. It was Nemesis's new group. His blade-like hair floated close to his face, Chris's blood was still on them.

"You're not as strong," Nemesis scoffed, squatting next to Chris. "Yet they sent you to infiltrate us? Even that blind bastard would have done a better job than you."

Chris just grabbed his stump of a leg, glaring at the trio before him. Other than Nemesis, the organization had no information regarding the other two.

Apart from the game sabotage, Chris also wanted to report their strange abilities to the organization, but it was too late.

Without speaking a word, the woman in the middle stepped up. She had a strange rapier tied to her waist.

Even at a glance, Chris knew it was a Slayer weapon stolen not so long ago from one of the elite operatives who died on a similar mission.

Chris's jaw tightened as the realization dawned upon him. The team before him… had been luring and hunting F.O.R.C.E. operatives.

The woman leaned in, casually caressing his cheek.

"This skin… can you give it to me? My brother would like it a lot."

Chris couldn't see her expression as the hood hid her face, but her voice was dripping with madness. Perhaps it was his final act of defiance, Chris turned towards her, and his teeth clanged against the woman's hand.

Before she could pull back, Chris tore off a chunk of her flesh and swallowed it. Blood gushed out of the woman's wound, but instead of being hurt, she was merely annoyed.

She forced her rapier through his throat before forcefully opening his mouth.

"My brother dislikes wounds," the woman calmly mumbled. "So… give me back my skin."

She plunged her entire arm down Chris's throat, ripping his mouth open from the inside. Blood filled Chris's eyes as her hand went in deeper. When she took her hand out, it was entirely covered in blood, but she didn't mind it as she had her flesh back.

"Skin him," she instructed Nemesis while cradling the chunk of her flesh like it was a treasure.

"Do I really have to—ouch!"

The words had barely left Nemesis's mouth when the burly man behind smacked him on the head before silently following the woman from before.

Nemesis could only frown and continue skinning the man. It had been his life ever since he crossed paths with that blind man. He had once led an entire section of cultists, but because of Zaen, he had been reduced to a mere lackey.

"One day," Nemesis cursed. "One day I'll pay you back tenfold for all this humiliation."

***

Meanwhile, at the academy…

Zaen shot up, only to hear the clanking of metal. He looked down and noticed the static-textured chains were binding him, just like the time he spent in the mental institute.

"What the hell is going on!?"

He yelled, pulling the chains. The noise brought Ann to the room, who quickly grabbed his arms, trying to calm him down.

"It's okay! You're in the infirmary! It's alright… shush…"

"…you can get off me, you know?" Zaen shot back. "I'm not losing my mind… anymore."

Ann's cheeks immediately flushed, and she quickly jumped off Zaen. fiddled with the keys for a moment before undoing the chains that bound him to the bed.

"Is this a new fetish of yours—?"

"Shush! Someone could hear you!" Ann squealed, clamping his mouth with her hand.

Zaen licked her hands, and she quickly pulled away, taken aback by his sudden abrasiveness.

"They can hear me, but can't see you straddling me?"

Ann had no reply, so she just turned away, not bothering to speak anymore. Using the time wisely, Zaen rubbed his wrists to ease the blood flow.

"Do you mind telling me what's going on?" Zaen asked.

In his mind, he had passed the test, so if anything, he should have woken up with rewards by his bed, not with chains around his limbs.

"…you don't remember anything?"

"Nada."

Ann stood in her place for a moment, unable to discern if Zaen was lying or not. She let out a sigh and sat next to him, fastening the chains again.

"Um… what are you doing?" Zaen asked.

"You nearly killed three operatives last night."

"…what?"

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