On the twenty-first day of his investigation, Shin uncovered the Lichtenstein family's depths of unforgivable sins. With the aid of the manor's restless spirits, he confirmed what he had long suspected: this house was not merely a place of corruption, but a source of irredeemable evil.
A palpable darkness clung to every corner, a stain that seeped into the very stones and timbers, whispering tales of cruelty and despair that stretched back through generations.
The long-serving servants had grown numb to the horrors within these walls, counting down the days to their inevitable demise. Those who dared to leave vanished without a trace, while others, overwhelmed by despair, chose to end their own lives.
Some became complicit in the family's cruelty, too fearful or broken to resist the oppression that bred submission and shaped monsters. Shin's resolve only hardened. He recognized the subtle signs in their eyes: the vacant stares, the flinching at sudden movements, the way they spoke in hushed tones as if even the walls had ears.
For days, Shin had been purifying the trapped spirits, growing more exhausted with each passing night. The overwhelming stench of death clung to him, making his stomach churn. His quarters remained the only place untouched by the corruption, and he intended to keep it that way.
Yet, the deeper he dug, the darker the truth became, compelling him to uncover everything before his final move. Each purified soul offered a fragmented glimpse into the manor's past, a mosaic of brutality that painted a horrifying picture.
During his rounds, a previously unnoticed painting in the kennels caught his eye. It depicted war dogs charging through an army, their fangs bared in vicious aggression.
Annoyed by its crooked position, tilted to the left, he straightened it, triggering the soft click of a hidden mechanism. A concealed compartment near the fireplace slid open, revealing a lever. The painting itself seemed to pulse with dark energy, the eyes of the dogs following him as he moved.
His curiosity piqued, and Shin glanced around to ensure he was unobserved. He pulled the lever, and a hidden door creaked open within the fireplace, releasing a wave of death and decay. A gust of fetid air rushed out, carrying the scent of rot and despair, a stark contrast to the sterile chill of the stone.
After scanning his surroundings for prying eyes or lurking familiars and confirming his solitude, he stepped into the concealed passage, sealing the door behind him. The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the distant dripping of water.
Descending the dimly lit stairwell, he followed the overpowering scent of rot. Reaching the bottom, he pushed open another door and froze, confronted by a hellish vision. The air here was thick and stagnant, pressing down on him like a physical weight.
Cages of all sizes filled the vast underground chamber. His sharp eyes, accustomed to the darkness, took in every gruesome detail. The air was thick with a foul mixture of musk, filth, and blood.
The nauseating stench twisted his stomach, but he pressed forward, moving in silence. He noted the intricate network of pipes and chains that snaked across the ceiling, evidence of some unholy machinery at work.
"What the hell is this place?" he whispered. His voice was swallowed by the oppressive silence, the sound barely audible even to himself.
To his fortune, no guards or hounds patrolled the area. However, what he saw inside the cages turned his blood cold. Some contained massive war dogs, their eyes filled with madness as they gnawed on bones. Others held human prisoners, barely clinging to life, waiting for death to claim them.
In one cage, a pack of dogs devoured a man alive, tearing his flesh apart as his screams of agony and twisted pleasure filled the chamber. The spectacle was a grotesque ballet of violence, a dance of death orchestrated by unseen hands.
Shin's eyes narrowed as he noticed the cruel enchantment placed upon the victims. The spell forced their bodies to regenerate, prolonging their suffering while filling them with an unnatural euphoria, turning their torment into ecstasy. A fate worse than death. He recognized the dark magic at work, a twisted perversion of the life force itself.
He moved deeper into the chamber, his disgust growing with each step. In another section, he found something even more depraved: women being used as breeding stock. Bound and drugged, they were forced to couple with monstrous creatures known as Woldrats, a horrific fusion of dire wolves and rats.
These beasts, known as Falspawn, had the intelligence of a predator and the instincts of a parasite, thriving in filth and darkness. The very architecture of this chamber seemed designed to amplify the horror, with grotesque carvings adorning the walls and ceilings.
The Woldrats mated for weeks without stopping, their grotesque, knotted appendages ensuring complete insemination. The women, their minds broken by powerful spells, whispered words of love and devotion to their captors, unaware of their own torment. Their bellies swelled unnaturally as they carried litters of the creatures, birthing new generations of monstrosities.
Driven by instinct, the newborns fought and devoured their weaker siblings, growing more feral with each passing day. When they reached adulthood, they battled for dominance, the strongest among them claiming the right to breed and continue the horrifying cycle. It was a cycle of violence and depravity, a living nightmare given form.
Shin could see the powerful runes etched into the cages, ensuring the creatures remained contained. The sheer level of corruption in this place was beyond anything he had imagined. The very air trembled with the restless spirits of the dead, their hatred and sorrow warping into something darker.
Many were on the verge of becoming Azakashi, vengeful revenants that, if left unchecked, would evolve into something even more dangerous. He could feel their pain, their rage, a palpable wave of negative energy that threatened to overwhelm him.
His jaw tightened. Who could be capable of such monstrosities? He already knew the answer, but seeing it with his own eyes made his blood boil. He clenched his fists, suppressing his fury. He could not act yet. Not until the time was right. He had to gather more information, to understand the full scope of the evil he faced.
Before leaving, he purified the hidden chamber, slaughtering the Woldrats and freeing the tormented spirits from their suffering. Their fading whispers of gratitude filled the air as he granted them eternal rest. The chamber seemed to sigh in relief as the oppressive darkness began to recede, replaced by a fragile sense of peace.
Shin continued his search, uncovering more hidden doors and secret passages throughout the manor. Even the servants' quarters concealed a dungeon, where those who had fallen out of favor were thrown into cages, and left to rot. Rusted torture devices lay scattered about, encrusted with the dried blood of past victims.
The instruments were unsanitized, ensuring that infections would claim the tortured souls long before their captors were finished with them. The implements were crude yet effective, designed to inflict maximum pain and suffering.
The signs of cruelty were everywhere. He observed the guards and servants more closely, noticing the missing fingers, the bruises, and the cuts hidden beneath their uniforms. The truth was undeniable: the Lichtensteins thrived on suffering, reveling in the misery they inflicted. It was a sickness that permeated every aspect of their lives, a twisted hunger that could never be satisfied.
Shin, ever methodical, formulated his plan. He had waged war before, outmaneuvering armies with nothing but tactics and guerrilla warfare. But this was different. He was alone in the belly of the beast, and his battle would be fought within the walls of this cursed manor. He was a lone predator in a den of vipers.
Yet he knew he wouldn't be alone for long. The oppressed needed only a spark to rise. He sensed a growing resentment among the servants, a simmering anger that could be ignited with the right catalyst.
As he traced the safest routes through the estate, he marked potential exits, guard houses, servant quarters, the kennels, and the stables. Every pathway that could lead him to victory or escape was committed to memory. He studied the patterns of the guards, the shifts in the shadows, the subtle clues that could give him an advantage.
Steeling himself, he made his decision. The time had come. The Lichtensteins' reign of terror was at an end. He felt a grim satisfaction, a cold certainty that his actions would bring justice to this place.
Feigning exhaustion, he informed the family that he would be resting in his quarters that afternoon, declining their invitation to dine with them. In truth, he was preparing for the battle to come. He sharpened his blades, checked his supplies, and meditated to center his mind and focus his will.
Tonight, the blood of the wicked would stain the halls of the Lichtenstein estate. As he readied himself, he whispered a single promise to the spirits who had guided him: "Tonight, I will set you free." His voice was a low, resonant vow, filled with determination and a sense of grim purpose.