Chapter 5：The Rotten Finger

Cain suddenly stood, a surge of power flooding through him. This time, it was even stronger than before. His gaze turned sharp, cold, and filled with fury.

"You filthy beasts," he snarled. "You don't deserve to live. All of you will die!"

Without fully understanding how, Cain activated his mysterious power again. The cult leader's survival instincts kicked in immediately. Grabbing a nearby follower, he shoved them forward as a shield. The poor cultist didn't even have time to scream before they exploded into a bloody mist.

"Kill him!" the cult leader barked before fleeing the sacrificial chamber.

The remaining cultists charged at Cain, but they were no match for him. One by one, their bodies erupted in bursts of blood, leaving nothing but silence behind.

Cain's mind spun, trying to process the bizarre event. It had happened before, but he still couldn't grasp it. The power felt alien, beyond his control. 

Yet there was no time to dwell on it—he needed to escape. As the thought formed in his mind, the world around him shifted once more. In the blink of an eye, he found himself outside, the cold air biting at his skin.

"I… I think I'm starting to understand a bit now." he muttered, piecing together the nature of his abilities.

Alarms blared across the cult's compound. Dozens of fanatics gathered, all of them focused on Cain.

"There he is!" one yelled. "The leader said anyone who kills him will drink the saliva of the Rotten God!"

"For the blessing of the Rotten God!" they screamed in unison, their eyes wild with madness as they rushed toward Cain.

Cain stared at the frenzied mob, his expression hardening. These weren't people anymore—they were lost souls, consumed by insanity and evil.

"You're beyond saving," he said quietly. "Let me free you from this madness."

Focusing his thoughts, Cain unleashed a wave of power. The first wave of cultists exploded, their bodies disintegrating into clouds of thick, red mist.

Yet the others didn't hesitate. They charged with even greater fervor, chanting incomprehensible prayers.

Cain hesitated, shaken by their unrelenting madness. How can anyone fall this far? What have they done to themselves?

Determined to end their madness, Cain clenched his fists. "If death is what you seek, I'll grant it to you!"

Focusing his intent, Cain imagined wiping them all out.

As if responding to his will, something appeared—a shapeless entity, shifting and changing form. Its colors fluctuated wildly, and it radiated an aura that froze the cultists in place.

They gasped in awe, dropping to their knees. "The Rotten God!" they cried. "It's here!"

The cultists began to chant louder, some weeping, others mutilating themselves in twisted devotion.

Cain's breath hitched as he stared at the entity. For a moment, he too wondered if this was some kind of god. But then, the entity shifted. Its form grew grotesque, and black rays of energy shot from its body.

In an instant, the gathered cultists were obliterated. Hundreds of them turned to ash, their cries snuffed out before they could fully escape their throats.

Silence fell. The strange entity vanished, leaving Cain alone in the desolate courtyard. His body trembled—not from fear, but from the sheer weight of what had just happened.

The energy within him began to fade, leaving him feeling drained yet slightly stronger than before. It wasn't the overwhelming power from earlier, but it was something.

Cain shook his head. There was no time to reflect. The cult leader was still alive, and Cain had no intention of letting him escape.

But the base was a labyrinth. Wandering aimlessly, Cain soon found himself lost. Just as frustration began to set in, he stumbled upon a stone door.

It was engraved with faint runes, their shapes twisting unnaturally. The mere sight of them made his head throb, as though his mind was being tainted.

"Could he be in there?" Cain muttered, steeling himself as he pushed the door open.

To his surprise, the door opened effortlessly, revealing a small, empty chamber. At its center was a floating object—a rotten, decayed finger.

It hovered above a stone pedestal, glowing faintly with a sickly green light. The stench of decay was overwhelming, making Cain gag as he stepped closer.

Before he could make sense of it, the cult leader ambushed him from behind. Weakened from his earlier battle, Cain was knocked to the ground.

"Finally!" the cult leader cackled, ignoring Cain as he stumbled toward the finger. "I've waited so long for this! The Rotten God has rewarded my devotion!"

The leader reached for the finger with trembling hands, but the moment he touched it, a green light erupted, engulfing him.

His body convulsed violently as his skin began to rot and peel away.

"No! Why?! Why is this happening?!" he screamed, his voice breaking as his body disintegrated.

Cain watched in horror, every instinct screaming at him to run. He stepped back cautiously, but Dante's voice cut through his thoughts.

"You can't let this go to waste," Dante said, his tone colder than usual.

"Are you insane?!" Cain snapped. "Did you not see what just happened to him?!"

"If it wanted to kill you, it would have already done so," Dante replied calmly. "Trust me. Take it."

Cain hesitated. Dante's words were rarely comforting, but there was truth in them. If they truly were tied together, then Dante had no reason to harm him.

Swallowing his fear, Cain stepped toward the pedestal, his heart pounding in his chest.

Before Cain could act, the finger launched itself toward him. He barely had time to react as it forced its way into his mouth, shoving itself down his throat.

Cain choked, his hands clawing at his neck. "It's inside me!" he gasped, collapsing to his knees as pain wracked his body. "What the hell is happening?!"

Dante's voice was calm yet sharp, "Fret not, Cain. I will deal with it. You just focus and endure."

But there was no relief in Dante's words. As Cain writhed on the ground, a wave of agony swept through him, as if his very essence was being rewritten.

Cain's screams echoed through the empty chamber, his vision fading in and out as his body underwent terrifying changes. Dante remained silent, his intentions unclear.

Whatever was happening, Cain knew one thing: his nightmare was far from over.