The sinner of virtue

The vicestra are ceaseless. Once vibrant and busy streets, now a former shadow of its old self. Paranoia, fear, anxiety, plagued the bustling populace as they scampered along with their lives like an ant colony.

Most of them had never seen vicestra in their lives and yet the increasing death toll rung in their minds like a constant reminder of what was out there.

Against the backdrop of a random skyscraper, a lone woman hangs her legs off the edge watching like a spectator. Her Amber eyes, sharp and aloof, scan the streets, running along every ant with cold intent.

She let out a faint sneer, curling her delicate lips up with casual disgust.

"Poor things. The government can't save any of you"

'Just get some therapy or die. It'll save us a whole lot of trouble. The more you fear them, the stronger they are.'

She numbly thought. Running her smooth dainty fingers down her glossy black hair and clicking her tongue.

The woman had light yet smooth brown skin hidden below her one piece mahogany dress, clinging to her well proportioned figure perfectly. The dress danced along with the cold and ceaseless winds, throwing about her hair and eliciting a small, irritated moan from her lips. 

"Damn wind, such a shitty day"

But as her hair fluttered around her head, it revealed a glimpse at her noticeable pale pink scar. Neatly carved down her eyebrow and to her cheek. More noticeable was her eye. Glossed over with a foggy grey dulling her usually bright Amber iris.

Her internal monologue was thoroughly cut short by a rough, almost raspy sounding chuckle from under the nearby steel door.

"Kekekeke!"

Before her synapses could fire off, the woman had already clutched her thigh holster, while her icy eyes lagged behind and flickered to the door.

Or what was supposed to be a door. Now flailed about in twisted pieces as if a bomb had gone off right through the middle, bathed by the eerie and pale moonlight. The noise followed with a sharp, painful rip. Sounding like a screeching groan

-Kriiiiiiieeeeeeekk! Pang!-

The woman's brows instantly crumpled into mild concern. Her eyes cut intently into the darkness through the door with a cold detachment. Mirrored by her steadily beating heart as she watched the figure scuttle out into the illumination of the moon, accompanied by the overwhelming stench of blood and rotting flesh that was left to sit for many weeks.

'I was enjoying my break... Why'd a vicestran-...'

She pondered with faint puzzlement, as she continued sizing up the vicestran.

Its skin, a pale and sickly-looking canvas, bore bizarre scarring and tattoos that twisted and turned in a chaotic display. The scars, some jagged and others more deliberate, interwove with the inked patterns, creating a disturbing patchwork on its flesh. Shedding skin, like that of a snake, dotted its slender frame, adding to its grotesque appearance.

Despite its eerie presence, the creature appeared to be relatively short, standing at around 5'7". However, its disproportionately long arms, which hung limply by its sides, gave it a disconcerting silhouette. The arms, almost dragging on the ground, added to the creature's unsettling aura, making it seem even more alien and menacing.

Its eyes, sunken deep into its skull, glowed faintly with a malevolent muddy green light, and its mouth, filled with razor-sharp teeth, twisted into a perpetual sneer. Each step it took was accompanied by a faint rustling sound, like dead leaves being brushed aside, as bits of its shedding skin fell to the ground.

The creature exuded an aura of decay and corruption, its very presence a reminder of the Vicestra's otherworldly and sinister nature. Sin. This vicestra's eyes shone green, an indication of its greed nature.

Accompanying this creature was a twisted grin. Its pale lips sharply upturned as its laugh filled the rooftop, a mixture of one high pitched and low pitched voices, stifled by the bustling city around.

"Kehahahakeekek. Your flesh-"

-Sniffs deeply-

"Is to die for~"

The woman stood tall and unyielding, her posture exuding cold resolve. She fixed a stony gaze on the horrific creature, showing neither fear nor hesitation. Her lips curled into a disgusted sneer, reflecting her utter disdain.

Her icy amber eyes, piercing and unrelenting, bore into the creature's sunken gaze. The intensity of her stare conveyed a mix of discard and contempt. Her entire demeanor was one of controlled power and steely determination. Even in the face of horror, she stood her ground. Her fearless strength challenged the creature's very existence.

'A greed vicestran... Troublesome'

With one fast stroke of her wrist, she cut open the tip of her index finger. Slowly, the dark red liquid pooled out onto the floor with an almost mesmerising rhythm. 

-Tap Tap Tap-

The Vicestran watched on with an amused malevolency, its eyes glinting with a cruel satisfaction and curiosity, as the blood began to coalesce. The crimson fluid defied gravity, rising up into the air just before her finger and shifting unnaturally into a medium-length dagger. The weapon bore no particularly noticeable features other than its eerie liquid texture, which twisted and undulated continuously like a serpent in water. The dagger seemed almost alive, its surface reflecting the dim light with a sinister gleam, enhancing its menacing appearance.

The Vicestran's lips cracked open with an eerie slowness, stretching into a grotesque grin. His large, serrated, knife-like teeth gleamed menacingly, each one dripping with hungry saliva that glistened in the dim light. In an instant, the Vicestran moved, a blur of motion, disappearing from the woman's field of view with unnerving speed. Where did it go? The question hung in the air, tension thickening as she scanned her surroundings, every shadow a potential threat she needed to be wary of.

'3 meters to my left'

Her body moved with instinctive precision, every muscle responding to her honed battle sense. She flowed with pristine grace, her arm slicing through the air in a powerful horizontal slash, leaving a crimson arc of blood trailing in its wake.

The Vicestra had no time to react. Its sunken, muddy green eyes widened in shock, almost comically. In a desperate, unnatural motion, its neck sank into its torso, narrowly dodging the lethal slash. The sheer speed and fluidity of her attack left the creature momentarily off-balance, its grotesque form reeling from the near miss. 

'hmm, not weak. As expected of a greed vicestra. Bastard.'

The woman thought simply, her amber eyes narrowing with predatory intent as they fixed upon the recoiling vicestra. The creature writhed, its grotesque form struggling to regain balance after the initial strike. She could see the flicker of desperation in its eyes, a primal recognition of impending doom.

Her grip tightened around the dagger's hilt, muscles coiled like a panther ready to pounce.

With a single, masterful pivot, she moved with the grace of a dancer and the precision of a seasoned warrior. The dagger gleamed momentarily with its crimson hue before she drove it deep into the vicestra's gut. The blade sank in with a satisfying resistance, a silent testament to her skill and determination.

The vicestra let out a guttural scream, its body convulsing as dark, viscous blood poured from the wound. The woman watched, unflinching, her expression a cold mask of resolve. She twisted the dagger, ensuring the fatality of her strike, before pulling it out with a swift, fluid motion. 

She leaped back fluidly, landing gracefully on the balls of her feet as her mahogany dress fluttered in the cold wind. The fabric's movement created a mesmerizing and tranquil moment, a stark contrast to the writhing figure half a dozen meters ahead.

"I know you're not dead, dumbass. Hurry up and come at me"

She lazily called out, fidgeting with her blood dagger, as it unnaturally seeped into her skin and poured back out. Lengthening the dagger into a shortsword.

In response, the vicestra's movements stopped eerily, and it began to stand slowly. Green fog coalesced around its sickly thin and elongated arms, giving it an even more menacing appearance. The dark, muddy blood on the floor defied gravity, rapidly rising and flowing into the vicestra's mouth. It gulped down the blood with glee, letting out a sinister yet comically satisfied sigh.

"I do love prey that put up a fight. I want... I need to see your tasty little face when I devour you alive"

It cackled, a twisted grin spreading across its grotesque face.

Undeterred, the woman tightened her grip on the dagger, her amber eyes locking onto the vicestra with unwavering determination. She could feel the tension in the air, a palpable energy crackling between them. Her breath remained steady, and she adjusted her stance, ready to strike at any moment.

The vicestra lunged forward, its arms outstretched, trailing green fog like malevolent tendrils. She met its charge with a swift sidestep, her movements fluid and precise. As it passed by her, she slashed at its side, the blade cutting through its flesh with mild resistance. It's pale fleshy skin parting ways with a sickening squelch. The vicestra howled in pain, but she didn't relent.

With a flurry of movements, she unleashed a series of strikes, each one calculated to weaken and disorient her foe. The vicestra staggered, its body riddled with fresh wounds. Dark blood oozed from the gashes, staining the ground beneath them.

"You think you can intimidate me?" 

She chuckled blandly, her deep yet feminine voice held her signature contempt.

"I've faced worse than you."

The vicestra's eyes glowed with a manic fury. It swung its arm wildly, and she ducked just in time to avoid a swipe that could have decapitated her. She retaliated with a powerful upward thrust, burying the dagger deep into the creature's abdomen. The vicestra convulsed, its screams echoing through the night and dripping down off the rooftop. Only to be devoured by the cities amalgamation of noise.

Summoning all her strength, she pushed the dagger further, twisting it to ensure the damage was fatal. The vicestra's movements grew sluggish, but it was still very clearly alive, and grinning all the same. Unperturbed by its fatal injury.

"My name is Tessa Marlowe. remember that in hell"

Without hesitation, she bit off a chunk of her exposed shoulder, her expression remaining cold and lazy, not even a flicker of pain crossing her face. Blood flowed swiftly from the wound, trickling down her arm like a crimson river. It wrapped around her hand and seeped into the shortsword impaled in the vicestra's gut.

A suppressed ding pierced the unnatural silence, and abruptly, the blood-infused shortsword within the vicestra expanded into dozens of blood spears. They erupted from the creature's body, piercing it from every angle like the quills of a porcupine. Dark, muddy blood sprayed across the rooftop, splattering the surroundings with a grotesque pattern.

The vicestra convulsed violently, its agonized screams filling the air. She watched with unblinking eyes, the corners of her lips curling into a slight, almost imperceptible smile. The blood spears continued to writhe and twist, tearing the creature apart from the inside. The vicestra's once menacing form was reduced to a mangled, blood-soaked mess, its lifeblood mingling with her own on the cold stone of the rooftop.

With a swift motion, she withdrew the shortsword, the blood spears retracting back into the blade and then into her shoulder and fingertip. Melting back into, and twisting over her self inflicted wounds, leaving behind some pale fleshiness. The vicestra collapsed, its body disintegrating into a pool of dark ichor. She stood over the remains, her breathing steady, her gaze held faint satisfaction and a small beautiful smile spread across her lips.

Her lazy eyes rolled over the mangled corpse, narrowing with intense focus on a particular section. The patchwork of ink and scars stood out, a grotesque map etched onto its skin, each mark telling a story of violence and pain. Her gaze fixed on an isolated mark located on its capped left shoulder, surrounded by a web of fresh wounds.

Taking a deep, slow inhale of the cold night air, she softly crouched beside the disfigured body. The scent of blood and earth mingled with the crisp breeze, creating a haunting atmosphere under the pale moonlight.

"Another mark... This one's new"

she muttered, a small, satisfied smirk spreading across her smooth lips. Her eyes drifted up to the moon, its silver glow casting a serene light on the scene. She pondered quietly, the wheels in her mind turning.

"I just need a few more, and it'll be complete."

Her nails shivered and twisted, then suddenly melted into a small blood scalpel. The eerie transformation was swift and fluid, the blade hovering barely an inch above her fingertip. With practiced precision, she inserted it below the skin around the mark. The corpse emitted morbid squelches with every twist and cut of the scalpel, dark ichor bursting over her hands. She disregarded the grisly spectacle, her focus unwavering as the marked skin was uprooted from the corpse and pocketed into a thin black bag behind her holster.

'Number 25. One more and i'll have the completed language. And then i'll figure out what those bastards did to senshiro.'

As these thoughts weighed on her mind, her eyes drifted down to the small insignia on her holster. For a fleeting moment, a trace of emotion other than contempt surfaced in her eyes, manifesting as a melancholic squint. She let her gaze linger a moment longer than necessary, tracing the intricate design. The grey, dull metallic tendril wound its way around a small, star-like cross, positioned at the center. This delicate pattern was interwoven across a circular pad, each line and curve etched with precision. The insignia, though simple in its form, seemed to hold a depth of meaning that resonated with her current state of mind, stirring memories and feelings long suppressed.

She tried to pry her gaze away but her thoughts circled back continuously over a few memories, that refused to stop playing.

Senshiro was a seasoned vicestra hunter, once affiliated with the government. His reputation for efficiency and ruthlessness was unmatched. However, his path took a solitary turn after a fateful discovery—a lone baby, crying amidst a gruesome scene. Vicestra blood and entrails were splattered across the walls, forming a macabre tableau. The infant lay beneath the cold, unyielding wind, her cries piercing the eerie silence.

Compelled by an inexplicable sense of duty, Senshiro Marlowe took the child under his wing. He named her Tessa Marlowe and raised her, imparting his knowledge and skills in vicestra hunting. She was indoctrinated into his relentless pursuit, trained to be as formidable as her adoptive father.

Senshiro spoke of a unique and terrifying power he had discovered—sacrificial offering. He had given up his left eye and ear to an unknown entity, a pact that granted him extraordinary abilities. At the age of sixteen, Tessa followed in his footsteps. In a ritual surrounded by hexagonal red altars shaped like demonic skulls, she sacrificed her right arm. The skulls floated in an endless circle, and the memory of that excruciating pain was still vivid. She watched as her arm slowly melted into blood and was consumed by the skulls' gaping mouths.

Now, as she lifted her right arm, she saw the results of that dark ritual. It was slightly transparent, filled with metallic black rods and dark blue artificial vicestra muscle. The components shimmered intricately, encapsulated by a grey fog that gave the appearance of an arm mimicking the functions of a real one. Each movement was a testament to the sacrifices she had made, the price paid for the power she now wielded.

'The 6 clans are becoming influential... At this rate theyll take over the world entirely... And the vicestra are popping up everywhere... Russia is on its last legs too'

She sighed heavily, her shoulders slumping as she stared at the floor, her gaze distant and filled with wistful exhaustion.

"No use thinking about it now. I need a break," she muttered to herself, the weight of recent events pressing down on her.

Tessa was about to leave when the disfigured corpse before her began to bubble. Green, murky spheres of blood floated seamlessly into the air, eerily merging with one another. The sight was surreal, a grotesque dance of fluid that defied the laws of nature.

Instinctively, she leapt back several meters, her eyes never leaving the unexpected spectacle. Her mind raced, trying to recall anything similar, but nothing in her memory matched this bizarre phenomenon. What was it?

The bubbles began to conjoin, rubbing against each other like a mass of ants, growing larger with each passing second. Then, with a sudden burst, they exploded into foggy green clouds of blood. The swirling, twisting mist moved with serpentine grace, thickening and coalescing to form words that hung midair, dripping and ominous.

"WE aRe COmiNg foR YOu TesSa MarloWe... JOIn ouR fAmiLy"

Her nose scrunched up with a cautious mix of dread and curiosity. This was like nothing she had seen before. Who is it? What do they want? And what does it mean... Join their family? These thoughts plagued her mind like incessant chatter, her eyes chaotically dancing within their frames, as she watched the blood slowly rain back onto the floor, with oddly beautiful finality.

As she stood alone, pondering the mysterious events that had just unfolded, her voice broke the silence. It resonated with a rich, velvety depth, carrying an air of contemplation and gravitas. The power in her tone was unmistakable, each word imbued with a sense of weight and significance dyed with a tinge of irritation. Yet, despite its commanding presence, there was a natural soothing warmth to her voice, a smoothness that made it incredibly pleasant to the ears even with her obvious crude language.

"Fuck sake, as if things couldn't get more bothersome. Could it be the work of the 6 clans? I shouldn't be on their radar... A vicestra?"

'Let's just focus on the marks and see where that takes me. I'm the only one that can see them after all.... That's gotta mean something...'

And with that, she slowly stepped back, moving with pleasant grace, now only standing an inch away from the ledge of the rooftop. The bustling streets below wafted into her ears, filling her with a sense of calm. Then she slowly fell back, free falling into its embrace with a calm smile.