What players had said about Valen in her previous life had been disgusting enough.
But seeing him in person made Isolde realize those descriptions had been far too generous.
A swollen, distorted man’s face had been crudely attached to the top of a writhing mass of flesh.
Beneath it, countless arms, legs, torsos, and half-rotted heads had been sewn together with thick black thread, forming a colossal serpent made of corpses.
It dragged itself slowly across the floor, leaving a slick brown trail behind.
Some of the limbs had already rotted black. Others still twitched mindlessly at the fingertips.
Valen was larger than she had imagined.
And far more revolting.
She wanted to throw up, but she couldn’t.
What would the original Isolde have done?
That madwoman would have looked at this abomination and seen the greatest masterpiece in existence.
Isolde dug her nails into her palm, using the pain to force back her nausea.
When she raised her head again, the horror in her eyes had transformed into feverish devotion.
She took a step forward and gave the performance everything she had.
“My magnificent father, you’ve become even more perfect.”
The words made her skin crawl the moment they left her mouth.
Fortunately, Valen loved them.
The face atop the mountain of flesh turned toward her. Satisfaction appeared in his cloudy eyes.
“Isolde, my dear daughter.”
His voice echoed through the study.
“Come closer.”
Isolde walked forward.
With every step, she felt sticky strands of slime stretching beneath the soles of her shoes.
Valen’s enormous body filled the center of the study like an altar built from corpses.
Her fingers curled beneath her sleeves as she repeated the same warning in her head.
Hold it together.
Don’t vomit. Don’t shake.
And whatever you do, don’t let this walking pile of stitched flesh realize you aren’t the original.
Valen lowered his head until his bloated face was almost touching hers.
The stench of decay washed over her. Isolde nearly saw the gates of heaven right then and there.
She kept her breathing slow and shallow, then looked up at him with nothing but admiration in her eyes.
“Father, did you summon me because you have another masterpiece to show me?”
She almost wanted to give herself an award.
This body had belonged to a beautiful madwoman, and apparently, acting came naturally to it.
A deep laugh rumbled in Valen’s throat, making the entire corpse serpent tremble.
Several eyes wedged between folds of flesh were squeezed hard enough to roll in their sockets.
“Isolde, my dear daughter, you have always understood me better than anyone.”
Isolde sneered inwardly.
She had no desire to understand him. Someone else could have that honor.
Valen dragged his massive body toward the desk. His tail swept across the floor and knocked over several glass jars.
They shattered on impact, spilling cloudy liquid everywhere.
Half of an unknown creature’s spine rolled to Isolde’s feet.
She didn’t even blink.
The original Isolde wouldn’t have been afraid of something like this. She would only have found it imperfect.
That was it.
She had to capture the heart and soul of Isolde’s madness.
She glanced down at the broken spine, and even managed to sound disappointed.
“Most of its power has already faded. What a shame.”
Valen’s smile widened.
“Yes. It was far too weak.”
His huge body rose and fell slightly. Dark red fluid seeped from the gaps between the stitched pieces of flesh.
“I need more bodies. Stronger arms, complete hearts, and skeletons better suited to containing my power.”
He turned his face toward Isolde.
“My daughter, you will do as you have before. Put on that white dress and pretend to be a helpless noble girl imprisoned inside Sylvain Castle.”
“Cry for them. Make yourself look weak and frightened.”
“Let them believe they are brave heroes coming to rescue you.”
The thought seemed to amuse him. A hoarse laugh scraped its way out of his throat.
“They always fall for it.”
Isolde lowered her eyes, letting a note of mockery enter her voice.
“People love believing they’re heroes. How ridiculous.”
Valen regarded her with satisfaction before continuing.
“Once they reach the banquet hall, I will prepare a magnificent feast for them.”
Of course.
This was the event players in her previous life had called Valen’s Bloody Banquet.
The survivors had spoken about it afterward.
The first party wipe had happened because they trusted Isolde’s cries for help.
They thought the beautiful, fragile girl was a reward NPC waiting to be rescued.
They had no idea she was the most convincing bait in the entire dungeon.
But the hook had someone new behind it now.
Who would catch whom this time remained to be seen.
Isolde looked up, her eyes shining with unnatural excitement.
“You have nothing to worry about, Father. I’ll choose only the finest materials for you.”
“Skin, bones, or souls, I’ll inspect every last one myself.”
Valen looked even more pleased.
He clearly enjoyed having Isolde worship and flatter him.
But as his enormous body shifted, Isolde’s gaze suddenly sharpened.
Deep within the mass of flesh, near the third vertebra of his spine, a flash of silver-white light appeared for the briefest moment.
It looked like moonlight buried beneath filthy blood.
But she had seen it clearly.
The Silver Core.
Valen’s true weakness.
Isolde immediately looked away and pretended to admire the newly attached beast claw on his shoulder.
Valen noticed nothing.
He merely flicked his tail in irritation. Several stitches tore loose, and dark red fluid trickled from the open seams.
“My grafts have become increasingly unstable,” Valen said coldly. “These inferior pieces cannot withstand my power. The force of decay has also begun rejecting the new flesh.”
“Would you like me to stitch them again?” Isolde asked obediently.
“Not yet.”
Valen’s cloudy eyes narrowed.
“Someone will deliver superior body parts to me soon. Once the fusion is complete, my power will rise to an entirely new level.”
He lowered his head and stared at her.
“You will assist me when the time comes. I must temporarily remove part of my protective wards to complete the fusion.”
Isolde nearly laughed.
Well, wasn’t that convenient?
He was practically handing her the perfect chance to strike.
But she couldn’t let any of that show.
Isolde was supposed to be fanatical and thrilled. She should look as if she had just received a divine command and was ready to fall to her knees in praise.
She raised her face.
An unhealthy light shone in her eyes, and her voice trembled slightly.
“It would be my greatest honor to take part in such a magnificent ritual.”
Valen brought his face close to hers and stared at her for a long time.
Cold sweat nearly broke out across Isolde’s back.
Had he noticed something?
Valen wasn’t some low-level monster she could kill with a single blow.
He had survived for years and turned an entire castle into his personal nest. He was clearly no fool.
If even one of her answers had sounded wrong, he might tear her apart and put her back together on the spot.
The study fell silent.
Only the slow drip of slime could be heard.
After what felt like an eternity, Valen smiled.
“My Isolde. You are as devoted as ever.”
Isolde smiled with him, her expression gentle and unhinged.
Only one thought ran through her mind.
Damn it. For a second there, she thought she was about to be taken apart and rebuilt.
Valen’s voice darkened again.
“This time, I want better materials. Do not bring me useless trash like you did before.”
A shadow passed through Isolde’s eyes.
She had heard words like that far too often in her previous life. By now, her disgust was practically instinctive.
Hearing the same words from Valen had unexpectedly made things much simpler.
Good.
He had found the exact words guaranteed to get under her skin.
That meant every last one of them deserved to die.