Blood Feast

"You were the one who slaughtered them."

Lorenzo's gaze grew heavy. He stared at Sabo, wanting to know what kind of person truly lay beneath that Bull mask.

"Yes, they all died. It was what the mentor demanded. They thought they would be rewarded upon their return, and in truth, they were—good food, fine drink, and as many hallucinogens as they could consume. Then, I sealed the room and poured kerosene through the door cracks. By the time they died, the hallucinogens had already taken effect. They would have felt only the gentle embrace of heaven, falling into an eternal slumber within it."

Sabo spoke indifferently, not feeling in the slightest that he had committed any atrocity.

"Why did you kill him..." Lorenzo had just started to speak, but then he realized everything. His expression shifted, and finally, he gripped his Winchester tightly.

"That is why you were willing to tell me all of this, isn't it?"

The great detective finally realized all the anomalies. There was never any nameless goodwill; it was true for Lorenzo, and it was true for Sabo as well.

"Yes."

Sabo nodded. His tone held neither joy nor sorrow. Lorenzo had seen such a demeanor before—in Victoria Central Hospital, the dying often wore it. Everything in the world could no longer disturb them; they were neither happy nor sad, possessing only a helplessness and calmness regarding their impending end.

It was a destined fate, with no room for change.

"That is not something mortals can touch. Merely knowing of its existence is a grave sin... like the scorching sun; even looking directly at it demands the price of one's eyes being burned away."

"So, is this their price? Death," Lorenzo said.

Sabo did not answer him directly. The short figure hopped off the chair, swaying with an indescribable air.

"Death is a release, at least far better than living. Great detective, you do not understand what that thing truly is."

"So that is the reason for your sudden 'kindness'? Everyone who knows of these things must die—whether it is the crew of the Silver Fish or us at this moment. Everyone here tonight must die, right?"

This was the reason for Sabo's candor. Lorenzo's arrival was merely an unexpected bonus. Everyone who stepped into this mad banquet tonight had to die; they were the sacrifices for touching the taboo. Only blood and flesh could bring it peace.

The lethal shotgun pointed at Sabo. Lorenzo's focus was entirely on him. If he pulled the trigger, the shotgun would release a cone of buckshot, and with that short stature, Sabo was destined to be unable to dodge it.

"Then what about you? You also know all of this. Is your death also set for tonight?"

Lorenzo questioned him sharply. If the Sacred Coffin was truly some unspeakable, untouchable object, then Sabo should also be among those to be purged.

Sabo answered calmly.

"Yes, I will die tonight as well."

From the very beginning, Sabo had never intended to let anyone leave alive. The previous gambling session was merely the final game of the dying. His few remaining fingers picked up a rapier; a gentle flick sent a whistling sound tearing through the air, followed by the blood stained upon it falling like rain.

"Stop!"

Eve picked up the revolver from the gambling table. Only one bullet in the cylinder was in the firing position. Now, two guns were pointed at Sabo; they were sure to win.

"Wait, Eve!"

Lorenzo suddenly barked a command to stop Eve's action. His cold eyes held a trace of confusion, and he realized the danger, his expression turning stern.

"So that was your goal. This is why you had the leisure to play the coin game with us, right?"

Sabo nodded, his rapier moving with lethal precision under the control of his few fingers.

"You are Lorenzo Holmes. In the Blood River Massacre, you killed hundreds of gang members with gun and sword. You are more of a skilled maniac than a detective. And I am a freak; a head-on confrontation would surely lead to my defeat. Fortunately, you needed information, which bought plenty of time for the hallucinogens to take effect."

It was the hallucinogens permeating the air. Their concentration was not high to begin with, but through Sabo's deliberate manipulation and stalling, Lorenzo had already inhaled quite a bit. Now, hallucinations were appearing in his vision.

The Bull mask seemed to come alive, blood flowing down that strange face. Only then did Lorenzo realize with a jolt that the mask was not a bull at all; it was a monster with horns, and only Lorenzo's common sense had made him subconsciously assume it was a bull.

"Get back, Eve!"

Lorenzo roared while pulling the trigger. He was already hallucinating and could not be certain of what was before him; all he could do was make Eve move away to avoid accidental injury.

But Eve did not respond. The girl's eyes held a hint of terror. It was clear she wanted to calm down, but the hand holding the gun was trembling. She, too, was hallucinating.

Beneath the dome, thunder resonated.

There was no time for Lorenzo to hesitate. The scattered pellets shredded the gambling table but failed to hit Sabo. The short figure was far more agile than Lorenzo had imagined. The rapier left a silvery-white trail in the air like a swimming ribbon fish, then slashed sharply toward Lorenzo.

In the crisis, Lorenzo could only raise his cane to block. The jagged edge of the rapier acted like a saw, slicing through the wooden outer layer and sparking brilliantly.

"A sword just like mine!"

Sabo shouted, then continued to slash down along the cane. The wooden shell shattered completely, revealing the bright, metallic luster beneath.

Lorenzo was knocked back a few steps by the strike. He could never have imagined such power could erupt from that body. In the close-quarters struggle, the Winchester was of little use; Lorenzo slung it behind his back and gripped his own cane-sword.

Sabo was right; it was the same weapon as the rapier, consisting only of blade and hilt, the protective crossguard long gone.

A crossguard was used to protect a swordsman's hand; when two blades locked, it prevented the opponent's blade from sliding down and cutting the wielder. But now, neither of their weapons had such a thing, just like their owners. They never cared about protecting themselves, or perhaps they were so confident they would kill the enemy before the enemy could hurt them.

"You must be affected by the hallucinogens too, right?"

Because of the hallucinogens, the world in Lorenzo's eyes began to twist and warp. He could not be sure of what he saw, and firearms naturally could not track the enemy, but the sword was different. Like a blind man's cane, what the sword touched was real; it would not deceive Lorenzo.

"I have grown accustomed to swinging my sword within hallucinations. One gets used to such things. I am a natural weakling, so my methods are naturally despicable. I hope you can understand."

Sabo flicked his sword. In his field of vision, the world was also a twisted mess, but he had lived here for too long—long enough that it no longer affected him.

He was a natural-born freak, unable to run fast or jump high, and he had lost most of his fingers in gambling. He wanted to win; he wanted it so badly. Since the day he was born, he had been a loser with nothing, so he had to use everything he could plunder.

"A long time ago, I got into the habit of hiding sand in my pocket, throwing it in an enemy's face, and then slashing their throat in that instant."

As Sabo spoke, his other hand moved behind his back, his body arching. The next second, he lunged like an arrow released from a bow.

Sword clashed against sword. The sparks that flew seemed, under the influence of the hallucinations, like a raging fire, and behind that fire, the horned monster lunged forward hideously.

Sabo could only exert force through those few fingers, and in a direct clash, he was far less powerful than Lorenzo. Thus, his rapier moved like a serpent; after each strike, it utilized the momentum of the collision to lash out from a different angle, never lingering for even a moment, much like a dragonfly skimming the water.

The cane sword followed closely behind Sabo, but as Sabo leaped and spun, the hand he had kept hidden behind his back suddenly broke free.

Lorenzo had been waiting for this opportunity. Sabo flung the sand from his hand, and Lorenzo immediately whipped up his coat to shield his vision. To his surprise, however, what was thrown was not sand, but something akin to fine powder.

The cramped battlefield was instantly filled with red dust, and the moment Lorenzo inhaled, he realized something was wrong.

It was a hallucinogen—a massive dose of a hallucinogen.

Holding his breath, Lorenzo rolled out of the cloud of dust. Behind him, Sabo stood there blankly, breathing steadily, completely unaware of what he was actually doing.

As his nerves were invaded, Lorenzo put some distance between them. His trembling hand reached into his coat to retrieve a cigarette—Lorenzo's favorite, packed with herbs meant to sharpen the mind. He didn't know how long it would hold off the hallucinogen, but it was better than nothing.

Yet, before Lorenzo could light the cigarette, a hellish nightmare swallowed him whole. The ground beneath his feet began to soften, and he felt a searing heat on his skin as the chandelier on the ceiling ignited like a scorching sun.

"This is what you see after you inhale it... how could this ever be heaven?"

Lorenzo had not seen such a sight in a long time. It was like a blasphemous ritual from hell; beneath the dance floor, people's bodies were rotting and breaking apart, with grotesque creatures gestating within them. The moans of pleasure had turned into endless screams. Amidst it all, Sabo slowly emerged from the dust. The metal mask had grown entirely into his skull, steel and flesh fused as one. As he grinned, the mask slowly split open to reveal a pitch-black maw.

"Aren't heaven and hell relative to one another? To me, this place already counts as paradise."

Gazing at this crimson world, Sabo's voice was laced with static as he raised his rapier, its sharp tip pointing directly at Lorenzo.

"Mr. Holmes, weren't you once a priest? Hurry and pray for yourself."

The short figure became hideous, and the air grew even more scorching with this transformation, as if they were bathing in molten lava.

Lorenzo knew clearly that these were all hallucinations, but he could no longer find a way out. His own senses were beginning to be misled; he thought he was standing, but perhaps he had already collapsed, and the sword in his hand was no longer to be trusted.

As for prayer... did anyone actually believe in such things?