Day of the Gallows
>As midnight approaches, the full moon illuminates the lofty clock tower. A public hanging is about to take place there under the gaze of onlookers.
The executioners shove the prisoners, bound tightly in iron chains, toward the gallows.
Stop pulling my tail! Or I'll curse you even in hell!
Death is at your doorstep now. That beak of yours won't save you anymore, wretched crow.
I'm a raven! A raven!
The raven Morigan curses incessantly while hanging upside down comically on its owner, who merely smiles calmly at the executioner.
You're even sending my little raven down with me. How "thorough" of you.
If only I could live a little longer... I would have arranged a proper funeral for you first.
Tch, you're all so defiant till the end... Hey, what do you think you're doing?!
It's still up in the air who's going to die first... Ugh!
Before she can finish, the executioner aims his gun at her, having noticed her attempt to break free and not wanting to take any chances.
"Bloodthirsty Siren" furiously raises her hand to attack the executioner, but the chains binding her wrists constrict with an almost magical force before she can make contact, cutting deep bloody marks into her skin.
Hah, pathetic weakling. Of course you'd rely on cheap tricks like these.
If you've got real guts, take off these chains and kill me with your own hands!
Only after confirming the prisoner poses no risk of escaping does the executioner nervously lower his pistol, then viciously spit on the ground.
These enchanted chains were custom-made just for freaks like you. Don't bother trying to use those "special powers" of yours anymore.
Behave yourselves! You deserve worse than death, you filth!
****, I hope the cursed Mist stays the hell away once these freaks are dead...
I'm sick of spending every day worried about getting caught in that fog and going mad.
The executioner continues muttering irritably as he slips nooses around the necks of the prisoners.
Hey, hey, hey, don't you think my noose is a bit too tight, Mister Executioner? It's rather uncomfortable.
Shouldn't someone on their way to hell receive a slightly better treatment?
For instance, I ought to enjoy another hundred years of freedom before awaiting the grim reaper's warm embrace on a cozy bed...
Preach! And they didn't even let me have a proper last meal before we left. I want some millet cooked to the right consistency in milk, and...
Shut up, Morigan.
Does your brain only work at a time like this?
Oh come on, I'm about to go to hell! If I don't talk now, when else can I do it? We're all Aberrations here. Can't you be a little nicer to me...
All of you shut up! Why the **** isn't it execution time yet?! I can't stand these freaks anymore!
Cold moonlight envelops everything below as the hands on the clock tower gradually inch toward the moment when death descends.
Deafening cheers erupt from the crowd below as they watch in anticipation like waiting for an enthralling theater performance.
Hang them! Hang the Aberrations!
They're not humans! Hang those Aberrations from the clock tower until they rot!
These damned Aberrations aren't afraid of the Mist! They must've brought it here!
Angry roars flood the space like a tidal wave, crashing over the Aberrations as they march toward their demise.
The first is known as the "Crimson Countess", who walks in the night and spreads terror through darkness.
The second is known as the "Bloodthirsty Siren", who endlessly thirsts for the vitality in warm blood.
The third is known as the "Revenant Hunter", who preys on the shadows in the Mist, and more.
The fourth is known as the "Silent Undertaker", who leaves nothing but death in the countless paths she trod.
And all four servants bow their heads to "Gray Raven", their leader.
When chaos and fear ripen in the mortal realm, they will summon the Archdevil and usher its descent to earth.
The executioner approaches you, viciously tightening the noose around your neck.
I don't want you hanging there half-alive, freak. I'm not doing you in with my own hands.
Why didn't those officials send all you freaks here for me to hang at the same time?!
They have to keep one alive for who knows why. ****! Those desk jockeys do nothing but flap their gums all day... What's going on in their noggins?!
The executioner glares at the Aberrations before him, then angrily spits on the ground.
What are you looking at? Why not break free and save your Aberration friend if you're so tough? Hah hah hah!
Though he vents his contempt and disdain boastfully, your icy glare still sends an involuntary shiver down his spine.
But unlike your companions, you show no emotional outburst. Your gaze is fixed on the distance, as if something more pressing than death occupies your mind.
Your thoughts drift back to the day when you and the other Aberrations were sentenced to death.
Firmly restrained by enchanted chains, you and the other Aberrations stood in the center of the courtroom, while everyone on the bench glared at all of you with cold contempt.
Order! Order! I will now announce the verdict!
"Gray Raven" and the Aberrations are the primary culprits who brought the Mist upon our city. You used it to trigger numerous cases of mental instability, which makes you the source of all evil and terror in our city.
I sentence you all to death. You will all hang from the gallows.
You've just confessed to your crimes. The fact that you do not go mad within the Mist proves you are the masterminds who brought it upon us. That is all the evidence we need.
But the Grand Inquisitor paid no heed to your pleas, merely waving at the executioner who had been waiting nearby.
The evidence is irrefutable. My verdict is final. Take these Aberrations to the clock tower and hang them tonight at the stroke of midnight!
Understood!
However, a voice from the jury seats suddenly spoke up, momentarily halting the executioner, who was about to escort all the Aberrations out of the courtroom.
Your Honor, on behalf of the Academy, I request that one Aberration be spared to serve as our research subject.
You want to keep an Aberration? Don't you realize that would...
Please don't look at me like that. The Academy simply wishes to contribute to the research of the Mist. What the leader of the Aberrations said has sparked some intriguing ideas.
Hm, we'll keep that one, "Eileena". According to the records, she was the assistant to the Aberration leader. I believe she could be the breakthrough we need for our research.
This will be crucial to the Academy's efforts to uncover the truth about the Mist, Your Honor.
Faced with the scholar's request, the Grand Inquisitor's expression darkened visibly, but his tone eventually softened.
He knew all too well that this arrogant scholar was part of an intricate, unbreakable web of business interests and family relationships connected to the mayor.
...Request approved. I hope you and your Academy don't cause me any trouble.
The girl named Eileena was quickly dragged away from your group violently.
Yet her face did not show the slightest hint of relief at escaping death. Instead, she marched straight up to the Grand Inquisitor with an utterly defiant attitude.
Hey! What kind of "Grand Inquisitor" are you supposed to be? There's nothing fair about this at all!
That so-called "scholar" just spouted some nonsense and you went along with it like his lap dog! We didn't do anything wrong, yet you're treating us all like criminals!
Even with Eileena's hands bound by the "enchanted chains" that rendered her incapable of causing any harm, the Grand Inquisitor still revealed a flash of fear toward the Aberration in his eyes.
He rose from his seat instinctively and took several steps back, his imposing frame nearly tripping over the chair behind him.
Then, realizing he was reacting like a startled animal, the Grand Inquisitor straightened his posture and furiously slammed his gavel down, bellowing at his subordinates.
What are you standing here for?! Get this disruptive brat out of my courtroom!
You freaks! It's time for your final journey!
The executioner shoved you toward the exit of the courtroom, while the scholar ordered his men to detain the spared girl.
But in that brief moment of chaos, the girl lunged toward you.
Even with her hands still bound, she still pressed close to you as if to say her final goodbye.
[player name], don't forget... to wait for me.
What are you doing? Get back!
Faced with the unexpected turn of events, the executioner's expression suddenly darkened.
As if unwilling to let go, Eileena brushed her fingers against your clothes, clutching desperately at the ribbon on your coat.
We spared your life and you're still causing trouble? Do you have a death wish?!
The executioner's rage intensified as he violently shoved the girl away.
Finally dragged away from you, she continued to grip tightly the ornament she had just torn from your coat, seemingly keeping it as a final memento.
As the executioner shoved you out of the courtroom, you silently turned back for one last look at the girl remaining behind.
But Eileena simply beamed with her usual radiant smile, treating this as a brief separation before an imminent reunion.
Promise me you won't forget to wait for me, [player name].
Eventually, the executioner's harsh rebuke snaps you out of your memories, dragging you back to the present.
...Tch, you're quite the tough one, aren't you? Not even a single word of repentance before your death.
Clang—clang—clang—with the tolling of the bells, the crowd that has been waiting below the clock tower can finally witness the grand execution of the Aberrations.
The execution commences! I'll start with this lunatic named [player name]!
The executioner, no longer able to contain his rage, approaches you and raises his sharpened axe, preparing to strike the trapdoor beneath your feet.
Lunatic. Save your last breath.
The executioner sneers, gripping his axe tightly.
Meanwhile, an eerie metallic sound rises—the enchanted chains on all of you are emitting an uncanny resonance, seemingly sensing some unknown power.
Something in the darkness seems to be drawn to the Aberrations, approaching like a shark to blood in the ocean. Everyone feels a bone-chilling coldness beginning to descend silently upon them.
Fog rises, arriving before your death. Thick mist envelops the clock tower, obscuring everyone's vision like a formless curtain.
Caw! There's something in the fog! Something big is coming!
Hurry, let us go, or else—
****! I should've killed you all sooner... Die!!!
The executioner puts all his strength into swinging the axe down toward your feet, but his raised motion suddenly freezes mid-strike, as if he has been turned to ice.
Like being controlled by an invisible force, the executioner turns around mechanically like a marionette, his eyes hollow.
They... they are coming...
The executioner mutters incomprehensibly before collapsing weakly to his knees.
Meanwhile, frantic shouting erupts from beneath the clock tower.
The Mist! The Mist is here!
There's something in there! Something is in the Mist!!!
The flowing dense mist descends silently, slowly enveloping the clock tower like the grim reaper's cloak.
A figure slowly materializes within the mist amid screams of terror. Though its form and face appear humanoid, it hovers like a ghostly apparition.
An invisible pressure looms over the crowd as indescribable terror instantly grips everyone's minds.
The figure doesn't speak, yet a chilling voice penetrates everyone's mind like a blade, slowly cutting away at their sanity.
That voice is definitely not human.
I am their herald.
You shall welcome their return on this day and become their children.
This... is... the... proof... of... my... devotion... to... them...
The executioner mumbles nonsense robotically, seemingly begging the "Apostle of the Archdevil" to punish him.
The Apostle waves, and eerie shadows advance through the mist, silently closing in on the unconscious executioner like bloodthirsty sharks.
Tentacles extend from the shadows, coiling around his neck before plunging deep into his throat, greedily devouring the essence of reason and soul within him.
Guhaa—aargh—
The executioner's delirious ramblings fade, transforming into the choked gurgles of a dying man.
Soon, the human's voice vanishes completely, leaving only the faint slithering of monstrous tentacles as they constrict the body.
Finally, the unsated tentacles release the corpse, prowling through the mist in search of their next prey.
The crowd, paralyzed by the Apostle's overwhelming presence, finally explodes into desperate screams.
AHHHH—the Archdevil—!
Stay back!! I don't want to die—AAAAARRGH!!!
There is no escape from the Mist. Formless terror materializes into poisonous vines, boring into every mind and stirring the most primitive fears from the depths of their souls.
The desperate pleas for help gradually transform into strange, delirious chants.
I see their relic, here... right here... swallow the relic... become their children...
The last vestige of human sanity is stripped from their minds. Then, disturbing sounds of gnawing and swallowing emerge from the Mist.
Brain matter... eyeballs... Nom...
Ah... the taste... this is their command...
A "feast" suddenly erupts within the crowd. Those hunted by strange shadows in the mist transform into deranged hunters, pursuing their own kind.
No one remembers the execution that was meant to happen at the stroke of midnight anymore. Their hatred for the Aberrations has transformed into a madness that now spreads among one another.
The deathly pale fog is gradually filled with the crimson flow of human blood.
Screams rise and fall, weaving a tapestry of fear and despair, yet a disturbing undercurrent of maniacal joy and desire lurks within this cacophony.
The Archdevil's servant watches from above as the host of the feast, savoring the spectacle unfolding below.
Your fear, desire, greed, joy... all shall be offered to them.
They shall guide you as you enter the Mist.
As the Apostle speaks, more shadowy figures emerge from the Mist and surround the panicking crowd. Each tentacle of these apparitions emanates a hunger for human sanity and souls.
After savoring the executioner's fear, the shadows wrap their tentacles around nearby civilians.
AHHHHH—LET ME GO—!!! DON'T EAT ME—!!!
Rargh—
But another calm voice emerges. Like fresh blood suddenly appearing in the deep ocean, it instantly draws the attention of the bloodthirsty sharks.
The moment your voice rings out, the tentacles of countless shadow creatures falter for an instant,
and the Apostle of the Archdevil finally turns his inhuman, chilling gaze toward you.
You stand resolute within the Mist, seemingly untouched by the terrors that spawn from its depths.
Despite still having a noose around your neck, you fearlessly speak up for the people who tie it around your neck.
The Apostle's fingers twitch slightly, and the enchanted chains that have been binding you vanish like a miracle, as if being removed by an unseen force.
Interesting specimen... You too should become part of them.
The power you stole from their divine form must be rightfully returned as tribute.
Everything you are belongs to the Mist.
The shadows in the Mist close in with alarming speed, but you, a mere human, respond with action rather than words under the Apostle's contemptuous gaze.
Now free from the noose, you dodge swiftly while your hand seizes the dead executioner's weapon in one fluid motion.
The bullet bursts from the chamber, striking the Apostle squarely between the eyes, and a spray of crimson gushes out.
But your attack only causes a slight twitch in his placid expression. The bloody wound pulses briefly before instantly sealing shut, leaving no trace behind.
Pathetic mortal.
Your defiance fails to provoke even the slightest reaction from him.
Bullets sever the majority of the incoming tentacles, causing them to narrowly graze past you.
...Heh.
Seemingly intrigued by your unexpected defiance, the Apostle of the Archdevil displays something resembling a human smile on his face.
The severed tentacles behind you rapidly regenerate under his influence, attacking you again with frightening agility.
Squelch—with a sickening wet sound, multiple tentacles impale your limbs simultaneously, sending blood spraying in all directions.
Yet you do not cry out in agony or beg for mercy. Instead, you grip tightly onto the very tentacles piercing through you.
This exquisite agony of hovering at death's threshold is what you can offer them.
The tentacles impaling your limbs burrow deeper, twisting slowly as if trying to stir terror from the depths of your mind.
But you remain unresponsive, maintaining your stance with eyes tightly shut, as if attempting to "read" something through this macabre connection binding you together.
Then suddenly, you open your eyes with unwavering determination in your gaze.
It's as if everything that just transpired was all part of your meticulously crafted plan.
In that instant, the Apostle senses something unexpected through the tentacles. A reversed pulse of power emanates from within you.
...Mortal, you dare peer into a deity's will.
The Apostle of the Archdevil gives no verbal response, instead extending another tentacle from the void that slowly advances toward the center of your forehead.
But at that moment, a faint ray of light appears in the Mist, emanating from your palm.
Like the hero stealing fire from the gods, you seize power from the Apostle and awaken some mysterious power that has long lain dormant within you at the cost of your own flesh and blood.
The light emanating from within you takes form in the mist, weaving into interconnected threads like a key that unlocks unknown power.
You pull the trigger again, but your target isn't the Apostle before you. Instead, you aim at the enchanted chains binding the condemned prisoners on the gallows.
The moment the chains shatter, the amorphous, faintly glowing threads surge toward them from your palm.
You are no longer alone in the Mist.
Your voice rings out like a war horn in the darkness, declaring your will to fight. In an instant, threads extend from your palm, reaching out to connect with the four figures.
The moment they answer your call, you feel a surge of power unlike anything you've ever experienced.
Phew—I was about to suffocate! I might as well hack and slash some monsters first before I go enjoy my freedom!
None of you are getting away! Taste the wrath of someone who just escaped death's door!
The newly freed "Revenant Hunter" propels forward, swinging his massive sword to cleave through the Apostle lurking in the mist.
Nirvatia, enemies behind you! Don't say I didn't warn ya!
The raven spreads his wings and soars past his master, his sharp talons lashing out at a surging tentacle. Meanwhile, the "Silent Undertaker" tightens her grip on her massive scythe, swinging at the numerous shadows.
Seems like some of them need an "undertaker" like me to send them on their way after all.
The death knell shall toll for you wretched creatures.
Faced with the fierce attacks from the "Revenant Hunter" and the "Silent Undertaker", the shadowy figures in the mist falter for a moment, as if intimidated by the duo.
Moments later, all the shadow creatures turn and converge on you instead, seeking to devour what appears to be a fragile human figure.
Right then, a figure wielding a katana leaps down from the clock tower. The shadows dissipate under the gleam of her blade, while cut-up tentacles rain down like rainfall.
Stay away!
The "Crimson Countess" has already broken through the swarm of shadow creatures and reached your side. In a flash, she severs the tentacles piercing through your limbs with her blade.
Your body, now freed from the Apostle's clutches, plummets rapidly toward the ground below.
Your turn now, "Bloodthirsty Siren"!
Hearing this, the "Bloodthirsty Siren" instantly unfurls her wings, leaping upward and rushing toward you.
[player name]! Take my hand!
Her wings cut through the wind as she lifts you up, sweeping into the thick fog and vanishing from sight in an instant.
As if appreciating the dramatic twists of a stage play, the Apostle pays no attention to his severed tentacles. Instead, he gazes toward where you vanished, displaying a look of genuine appreciation.
Motivation based on emotions. Fascinating.
Nevertheless, the offering that belongs to them will inevitably return under their dominion.
More and more shadow creatures spawn from the thick fog at the Apostle's command, forming a writhing web that searches through the mist in the direction of your escape.
But at that very moment, a familiar beam of light pierces through the Apostle's chest from behind.
The shot comes from you, having leapt down from above, concealed by the thick fog.
The shapeless threads from your palm gather and take shape, piercing the Apostle's body.
...
The light from your palm grows brighter, continuously flowing into his body. The movements of his many tentacles begin to slow and grow sluggish.
You continue to channel the power within your body, focusing it into your palm. Even as bloody foam spills from your mouth, you show no hint of backing down.
You gather all your strength, turning your will into a weapon, and the light in your palm pierces through the Apostle's body.
In perfect unison, all your companions by your side raise their weapons against the enemy.
Heh, how dare you use their power to fight them.
Just as you are about to deliver the crucial strike, you feel the Apostle retaliating with a forceful burst.
Your will has failed to win fate's favor, and the scale of victory tips toward evil.
In an instant, thick fog bursts forth from the clock tower, surging through the entire city like a raging tide.
Waves of anguished cries begin to rise and fall in the distant fog.
Everything seems to vanish in the fog, and memories begin flowing into your mind piece by piece.
You stroll through the familiar city streets at a time before the Mist descended and you were branded as an Aberration on the gallows.
Everyone smiles warmly at you as you pass by.
"Gray Raven"... What a great name.
Hey, "Gray Raven"! Let's grab a drink together when you're free!
Walking deeper into the fog, you gradually see the gallows looming ahead.
You and your companions are about to be sent to the gallows, branded as "damned Aberrations".
Hang them! Hang the Aberrations!
These damned Aberrations aren't afraid of the Mist! They must've brought it here!
A lonely girl lies in a dark laboratory, her body covered in wounds, yet her face still bears a defiant, unyielding smile.
She musters what little strength remains to prop herself up and reach out toward you.
I've been waiting for you, [player name].
It's so dark and cold here... There were so many times I thought I couldn't hold on any longer...
But whenever I was about to give up, I kept thinking that I still wanted to see you again.
So... we finally meet again, [player name].
The fog grows thicker, obscuring the young woman's face.
Only the legends of the Mist remain, echoing in your mind.
<size=50><i>One day, the Archdevil sowed the Mist, and it descended upon the mortal world.</i></size>
<size=50><i>All who wander into the Mist hear the Archdevil's whispers.</i></size>
<size=50><i>Those who heed their whispers fall into madness.</i></size>
