The system’s final verdict sent all three players into a panic.
“No! I choose the White Glass!”
Mina desperately tried to pull her hand away, but the Black Glass seemed fused to her palm. Black-red liquid crawled over its rim and crept up her fingers.
Rowan screamed and tried to escape, but two faceless servants pinned him firmly to his chair.
“Let me go! Let me go! I quit, okay?”
Grant made one final attempt to resist and swung his axe at the glass.
Before the blade could touch its rim, black-red liquid surged out and engulfed it. The axe dissolved into a cloud of white mist.
[Judgment has taken effect.]
[The decision cannot be revoked.]
Isolde paused, her chin still resting on one hand.
She had expected one Black Glass and two White Glasses.
She had also considered two black and one white.
She had even imagined that all three might suffer a moment of collective madness and choose white together.
The one thing she hadn’t expected was for all three of them to choose black without hesitation.
After a brief moment of surprise, Isolde laughed.
It began as a quiet sound, then grew until she could barely hold it back.
“Impressive.”
She lifted her hands and gave them two soft claps.
“You had a way for everyone to survive, yet none of you wanted it. I suppose nothing reveals true friendship quite like a crisis.”
She watched as the black-red liquid slowly consumed them, and the smile on her lips turned cold.
“But this is perfect. This is exactly how I remember you.”
None of them understood what she meant.
They never could.
Isolde had finally confirmed one thing.
What happened in her previous life hadn’t been an accident. Their circumstances hadn’t forced them to become monsters.
They had always been rotten to the core.
And now, nothing pleased her more than ugly souls and filthy human nature.
Dark red array lines lit up beneath their feet, binding them firmly to their seats.
Grant finally broke.
“Isolde, please! I’ll do anything! I’ll be your dog!”
Rowan collapsed against the table and reached desperately toward her.
“I… I know where the other parties have set up camp! I can give you information. I know plenty of useful things! Please don’t kill me!”
Mina struggled wildly, her eyes filled with pure venom.
“You monster! You’ll die a horrible death!”
Isolde watched them.
She didn’t feel the satisfaction she had imagined.
Only a faint sense of weariness remained.
These were the people she had hated for so long.
Yet once stripped bare, there was so little to them.
Greed. Cowardice. Selfishness.
Even their cruelty was painfully ordinary.
Isolde raised one hand, then gently lowered it.
All three Black Glasses shattered at once.
A tidal wave of black-red liquid forced its way into their eyes, ears, mouths, and noses.
Their screams erupted through the banquet hall, only to be swallowed by the Blood Banquet Array.
Three murky souls were ripped from their bodies.
They twisted and struggled like fish caught on hooks.
[Grant Vale’s soul has been confiscated.]
[Rowan Keene’s soul has been confiscated.]
[Mina Vale’s soul has been confiscated.]
[Blood Banquet Judgment complete.]
The three souls tangled wildly above the long table.
Their roars, curses, and screams blended together like a cauldron of boiling poison. The sound churned through the air and made Isolde’s ears ache.
[You have acquired three Sinful Souls.]
[Home Ground Advantage triggered.]
[You have acquired the Active Skill, Judgment Synthesis.]
[Skill Type, Growth and Soul.]
[Skill Description, The remnants of souls belonging to targets you have defeated, judged, or marked may be compressed into special fruit according to their quality.]
The three souls were suddenly crushed together.
Within the last flicker of red light, they took the shape of an apple.
A rotten apple.
It was no larger than Isolde’s fist. Its skin was mottled black and red, as though it had been soaked in blood and dragged from a pit of mud.
Three blurred human faces could be seen through the cracks in its flesh.
They were still wailing inside it, but their voices sounded faint and distant, like cries trapped at the bottom of a deep well.
The apple dropped from the air and landed softly on the long table.
It rolled to a stop in front of Isolde.
She lowered her gaze and stared at it.
By all rights, she should have been disgusted.
Her stomach should have churned just as it had when she first saw Valen’s mountain of rotting flesh.
Strangely, it didn’t.
Perhaps she hated them too much.
Or perhaps the original Isolde’s lingering soul was slowly awakening.
For some reason, she found the rotten apple almost… cute.
It looked like a carefully crafted work of art, steeped in the beauty of death and the grotesque.
The moment that thought crossed her mind, Isolde fell silent.
It didn’t feel like something she would think.
It felt more like an instinct left behind by the body’s original owner.
Or perhaps the authority of Sylvain Castle’s new master was teaching her how to enjoy her spoils.
Isolde reached out and picked up the rotten apple.
Its surface felt cold and slick against her palm, but it wasn’t nearly as revolting as she had expected.
She knew perfectly well that there was nothing normal about it.
Yet an invisible force seemed to draw her in.
Before she realized what she was doing, she opened her mouth and took a small bite.
Rotten flesh split between her teeth.
Something cold and thick slid down her throat and into her stomach.
Isolde’s pupils contracted.
A chaotic flame ignited inside her, struggling to burn through her body.
Then a softer force rose from the depths of her soul.
It wrapped itself around the filth, slowly breaking it down and absorbing it.
The remains transformed into a strange source of nourishment. It flowed through her blood, feeding her body and sinking deep into her organs.
[You have consumed a Fruit of Judgment.]
[Three Corrupted Soul Remnants have been converted.]
[Soul Stability increased.]
[Personal attributes greatly increased.]
[Judgment Synthesis Proficiency increased.]
[Thousand-Faced Witch’s Mask has undergone an unknown mutation.]
Isolde suddenly came back to her senses.
She looked down at her empty hand.
Then she doubled over.
“Ugh!”
Bracing herself against the long table, she began to retch violently.
What had she just eaten?
Had she really eaten a rotten apple made from the souls of three disgusting people?
Was this supposed to be a reward, or some kind of punishment?
Lia, who had been standing quietly nearby, produced a silver basin from somewhere and thoughtfully held it out to her.
“Miss, I believe you may need this.”
Isolde stared at her in silence.
As she took the basin and continued retching, a faint laugh suddenly sounded beside her ear.
She recognized it.
It was the same laughter she had heard when she drove the Bone Nail into her chest.
It seemed to come from somewhere far away, yet it also felt as though it had always been hiding in the deepest part of her body.
A young woman’s voice whispered beside her ear, soft and sweet with an almost sickening delight.
“Well done.”
“My dear Isolde.”