"BOW."
That was what Cthulhu asked of Natasha.
Natasha froze.
"Bow your head to the ground… and beg me to be your master."
Her eyes went wide.
'To be her servant…'
Natasha's mind reeled. 'I'll be forced to commit so many heinous sins… for the rest of my life?'
She swallowed hard, her chest tightening with dread.
"Argh! S… Stop!!" Rita's pained cry broke through her thoughts.
Natasha's eyes shot up in horror.
The tentacle around her little sister's throat had tightened again, causing the girl's small body to convulse.
"Fine! I understand!!" Natasha shouted, raising her hand in surrender.
The hall fell deathly silent. Only the crackling flames from the massive fireplace echoed in the vast chamber, alongside Rita's trembling sniffles.
Natasha clenched her fists, then, with excruciating slowness, she lowered her head until her forehead touched the smooth, polished floor.
"I, Natasha, hereby vow to serv—"
SMACK!!
Pain exploded across her skull as Cthulhu's heel crashed into her nose again, sending her sprawling.
Natasha wriggled on the cold floor, clutching her face, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Blood streamed between her fingers.
Rita squeezed her eyes shut, her body shaking as if trying to will everything into a bad dream.
"Oh dear," Cthulhu mused, feigning innocence, her voice honeyed with amusement. "You need to be quicker, sweetheart. I have a pressing meeting to attend to."
Natasha barely had time to steady herself for another vow, before—
CRACK!
Cthulhu's foot slammed into her face again, the force blinding her in the already damaged left eye.
THUD!
Another strike ripped open the skin of her lips and cheeks, the taste of blood flooding her mouth.
THWACK!
The next blow utterly ruined her nose, breaking cartilage with a sickening crunch.
Yet, through it all—despite the agony, despite the humiliation—Natasha never missed a beat.
Each time, she pushed herself back up. Each time, she attempted the vow again.
"I… I vow—" She coughed violently, blood splattering onto the floor.
Her face was a grotesque mess of torn flesh, swollen bruises, and rivers of crimson, yet her spirit refused to break.
Rita's breath hitched, horrified at the sight beyond words.
Natasha tried again, her body quivering. "I will… be your servan—"
"No. Not like that."
Cthulhu's voice was light, almost playful. Her foot lashed out, torturing Natasha.
"It's too short."
More kicks followed. More brutal, unforgiving strikes that sent Natasha reeling.
Sometimes, she'd hold her hand out to help delay some of the hits and pain.
The Champion—now barely recognizable—shook violently, her body on the verge of collapse.
Cthulhu's face flushed with exhilaration. "Y-You better hurry up, Natasha!" she teased, her tone giddy with delight.
She tilted her head, her grin widening.
"I'll kill Rita, you know?"
Cthulhu's laughter rang through the hall, wild and unrestrained.
She lightly gripped her crotch with one hand, still mercilessly slamming her foot into Natasha.
"Hold on—this is too much fun!!" she cried out in glee, her face flushed with exhilaration.
Natasha tried to force out her pledge between gasping breaths and violent hits, but Cthulhu wasn't listening anymore.
Her body trembled, pleasure and power blending into one intoxicating high.
"I might just get used to this… Ahhh, I'm so close… I'm—COMINGGGGGGG!!"
CRACK! SNAP!
A sudden, sickening silence followed.
Cthulhu's manic grin faltered. She glanced at her tentacle—at the small, limp body dangling within its grasp.
"Ah. I broke it."
She blinked, tilting her head.
Her excitement had gotten the better of her. In her fervor, she had squeezed too hard—Rita's delicate neck had snapped like a twig.
"...Eh…?"
A small, breathless sound escaped Natasha's lips.
Her vision blurred.
She stared—unmoving, unbreathing—as Cthulhu gave Rita's lifeless body a light shake, as if expecting her to wake up.
Her little sister. Gone.
'Rita is dead. Rita is dead. Rita is dead. Dead? No, not dead. She's sleeping. Sleeping? No, not sleeping. Dead. But why? How? No, I know how. Cthulhu. No. Me. My fault. My fault. I did this. Oh, God, I did this. Sir Bond warned me I should have stayed quiet. Should have listened. Should have run. Should have done something. Anything. Anything but this. I killed her. I killed Rita. My hands. My mouth. My pride. I—'
"RITAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!"
The scream ripped through Natasha's throat, raw and ragged. "NOOOOOO!!!!!! Somebody!!! Somebody, help Rita!!!! PLEASE!!!!!!!"
The air in the chamber thickened.
The gathered warlords, monsters, and Devil Kings—creatures who reveled in cruelty—stood still. Silent. Watching.
Not in amusement.
Not in mockery.
But in pity.
Then—
"Ahhhhh—UGH!"
Four massive tentacles speared through Natasha's body, carving foot-sized holes into her chest and abdomen.
Blood burst from her wounds, spilling in thick rivulets. Her body convulsed.
Cthulhu let out a breath, tilting her head. "Aren't you being a little loud?" she sighed. "All I did was break another neck. Relax."
The tentacles lifted Natasha higher. Her blood and tears dripped, slow and steady, into the dark crimson pool beneath her.
She barely noticed.
Her gaze locked once more onto Rita's small, lifeless form.
Her fingers twitched. Her arm lifted, weakly reaching toward her sister.
'Wake up. C'mon. Wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up Rita wake up please I won't be stupid anymore I swear I'll be good I'll listen I'll run if you tell me to I'll hide I'll beg I'll do whatever you want just please wake up Your big sis is here Rita wake up for me please wake up—'
"Rita…"
Her voice was fading. "Forgive me… I'm so… so… so…"
Her fingers trembled—then with one last tear drop, her hand fell limp.
Her body stilled.
Silence.
Cthulhu blinked, staring at the sisters in mild surprise.
"Oh. She died too?"
She stood there for a moment, gazing at the two lifeless figures.
Her expression twisted into a sad one.
"But... was this girl truly a champion?" she began. "To die from such meager damage... Argh, humans are so fragile. Makes it difficult to play with them."
She glanced toward the furnace frame, not far from her, where blackened statues of figures seemed frozen in suffering.
"But, oh well, they're broken. So, Meeting Time, I suppose."
Her tentacles stretched out, lifting the two deceased into the flames.
Pulling her seat back with one tentacle, she settled into place.
Ahriman then turned to her—
"So, Cthulhu, what meaning was there in what you just did?"
Cthulhu looked at him, surprised.
She furrowed her brow, looking down, playing with her fingers like a child caught stealing.
"You're right, Ahriman," she whispered. "There… wasn't much meaning in it. I... shouldn't have done that."
She met his tired gaze with sad eyes.
"I would've waited until the meeting was over. But in my haste, I wasted a good doll. I wanted to torment not just her sister but everyone connected to her, killing them one by one, from the least important to the most important, until Natasha snap. How unfortunate. I know how you must feel, Ahriman, I'm sorry."
"No..." Ahriman whispered, resting his chin on the table. "We're not even on the same track."
"Whatever, what's done is done!" Cthulhu brightened up again. "Sorry for holding up the meeting with something meaningless. We can start now!"
Sarvest, who had been drinking tea for what felt like hours, finally adjusted himself.
Ahriman gave Cthulhu a brief glance.
'You go too far in your quest for amusement, Cthulhu...' he reasoned. 'You might soon fall into the hands of someone who will mishandle you... Nonetheless, your downfall won't be appealing. Of course, I won't say it out loud, lest she bring me unnecessary strife.'
"What? I'm not interested in bums." Cthulhu lashed at Ahriman for staring at her.
"So mean…" he just voiced in retort.
"Now, let us address the pressing issue at hand," Sarvest began. "We need to discuss the problem of an uncontrollable being named Ruben... and his wild companions, Alicia."
He scanned the room before continuing. "I believe he has killed one of my generals... Andras."
The news caused a stir in the hall, with shocked and confused faces murmuring.
Ahriman raised his head and locked eyes with Sarvest.
"Who...? Who is Andras?"
"..."
"..."