Isolde lowered her gaze to the Silver Core in her palm.
It looked like a piece of the moon torn from the sky. Cold white light spilled between her fingers and seeped into the dark red stitch mark inside her wrist.
The Bone Nail lodged in her chest suddenly lit up.
Tiny sparks sank into her heart, slowly repairing the wound around it.
Red mist surged through the banquet hall as system notifications flooded her vision.
[Acquired Fallen Fragment, Throne of Corpses, 1 of 5.]
[Effect, Unknown.]
[Divine-tier Item, Silver Core, fusion in progress.]
[Exclusive skills being generated.]
Two lines of bloodred text appeared before Isolde.
[You have acquired the Exclusive Skill, Garrote.]
[Skill Type, Damage and Soul.]
[Skill Description, Consumes 20 Mana to summon Soul Threads, dealing 60 soul-cutting damage to a marked target. Damage increases by 100% if the target is Afraid, Corrupted, Weakened, or Betrayed. If the target’s Health is below 20%, triggers a Garrote execution check.]
Isolde raised an eyebrow.
So it was an execution skill for finishing off enemies with low health.
Before she could study it further, another notification appeared.
[You have acquired the Exclusive Skill, Blood Banquet Substitute.]
[Skill Type, Defense and Rule.]
[Skill Description, While inside Sylvain Castle, when the host suffers fatal damage, that damage may be transferred to one guest bearing a Blood Banquet Mark.]
The other three had clearly seen part of the system notifications as well.
They couldn’t view the full skill descriptions, but the words [Boss-exclusive skills being generated] were enough to leave them trembling like frightened birds.
More text continued to appear.
[You have acquired the Exclusive Skill, Banquet Judgment.]
[Skill Type, Defense and Rule.]
[Skill Description, Within Sylvain Castle, the master may begin a special banquet and force all guests bearing a Banquet Mark into the Judgment Field.]
[All who enter the banquet hall are invited guests.]
A deep rumble came from the far end of the banquet hall.
Black mist swallowed the crystal chandelier overhead. When its lights returned, the flames had turned ghostly blue.
The silver candlesticks on both sides of the long table bent by themselves.
Black wax ran down the table’s edge and hardened into thin, twisting vines.
The floor tiles cracked apart, then rebuilt themselves.
Even the smell in the air changed.
The three players stared at Isolde.
Black spread upward from the hem of her plain white dress, seeping through the fabric like nightfall.
The soft, simple skirt became dark and elaborate. Fine lace formed along its edges, glittering in the surrounding firelight.
Her long black hair fell down her back like a waterfall. A layer of sheer black fabric draped across her shoulders, giving her an air of cold elegance.
Her sleeves lengthened around her wrists.
Her nails slowly turned black, their edges gleaming like freshly sharpened blades.
Isolde stepped over the black blood and scattered remains covering the floor.
As the hem of her black dress swept past, the blood drew away from it on its own.
The high-backed chair at the head of the table began to change.
Its back rose higher, bone patterns grew along its edges, and fine silver threads curled around the armrests.
Moments ago, the players had dismissed her as a “quest NPC” and a “story tool.”
Now she settled into the seat at the head of the table, rested her chin lazily on one hand, and regarded them with open amusement.
“Well, then. I suppose it’s my turn to entertain you.”
Grant stared at the boss name highlighted in red by the system.
He swallowed, his voice hoarse.
“This can’t be real…”
No one answered him.
Rowan and Mina looked just as horrified.
Rowan still held his bow.
He had planned to rush forward and seize the Silver Core the moment it dropped.
Now his fingers had gone rigid against the bowstring, and sweat had soaked through the back of his clothes.
Mina slowly lowered her staff.
She forced out a smile that looked worse than tears.
“Miss Isolde… we were trapped and desperate earlier. We said things we didn’t mean. Please don’t take them personally.”
“Right,” Grant added stiffly. “It was all a misunderstanding.”
He looked at the woman in black seated at the head of the table and forced himself to continue.
“We helped kill that monster who treated you like an object. We did our part too, didn’t we? Without us keeping him occupied, you never would’ve gotten that…”
Isolde watched them in silence.
The longer she remained quiet, the more frightened they became.
Rowan broke first.
He forced out a laugh and began emptying his inventory onto the floor.
“You can have all of this back.”
As he spoke, he carefully watched Isolde’s expression.
“I never really meant to take any of it. My hand just got ahead of me. You’re the master of Sylvain Castle now. Someone like you wouldn’t bother holding a grudge against people like us, right?”
Isolde remained seated at the head of the table.
She gave him no response.
Mina bit her lip and placed the Remnant Necrotic Light she had acquired on the floor, along with several potions.
“I can give mine back too.”
She looked up at Isolde, tears already gathering in her eyes.
“We only wanted to survive. This world is terrifying. We’ve only just arrived, and we don’t understand anything. All we could do was grab every opportunity we found.”
Her voice softened.
“You understand what that feels like, don’t you?”
Isolde finally smiled.
For some reason, that smile sent a chill through Mina’s heart.
Looking at her, Isolde suddenly remembered the bowl of hot soup from her previous life.
Compared with the scene before her now, the memory felt almost laughably cruel.
“You wanted to survive?”
Isolde repeated the words softly.
All three nodded frantically.
She leaned back in the high-backed chair and looked down at them.
“Very well. But you’ll have to see this banquet through to the end.”
Their expressions froze.
Isolde raised one hand and lightly traced a line through the air.
The dark red array lines across the floor spread at once.
Black blood rose from the ground and flowed backward along the lines, disappearing beneath the long table.
Broken silver platters returned to their places.
The overturned high-backed chairs stood upright one after another.
Faceless servants emerged from the shadows.
They stiffly pulled out a chair for each guest, then forced the three players into their seats.
The banquet hall was clean and orderly once again.
Somehow, that only made it more chilling.
[Banquet Judgment activated.]
[Current Number of Guests, 3.]
[The master may establish one Banquet Rule.]
A notification appeared before each player.
[Warning, You have entered a Special Judgment Field.]
[Obey the Banquet Rule established by the master of Sylvain Castle.]
Grant’s expression changed.
He instinctively stepped back, only to find that the array beneath his feet had sealed every escape route.
“What kind of twisted banquet is this? I’m not taking part. Let me out!”
Mina managed another strained smile.
“Miss Isolde, we can give you everything. There’s really no need to continue…”
“Why not?”
Isolde cut her off.
She raised her eyes.
Bloodred candlelight reflected in them. She was breathtakingly beautiful, yet none of them dared to look for long.
“You said you only wanted to survive.”
Her smile deepened.
“Now I’m curious. How far are you willing to go to stay alive?”