```

The lush leaves stretched out in the dark night like the mother earth’s fingers, attempting to touch the myriad creatures she had created. When the daylight vanished, even the tender mother could have a change of heart.

Her children, once cradled in her palms, were met with indifference, their last sight in the eyes of death.

The flowing blood had coagulated, severed limbs hidden amongst the leaves, soon to become sustenance for the microorganisms and germs within.

The cold wind displayed its sole act of compassion, allowing those lost souls wandering in terror to linger a while longer in their mangled bodies, bidding farewell to the lives they once knew.

Liveser and Dreya carried away their comrades’ corpses, leaving only Devonrayla’s greed and their own abandonment behind, to know no peace.

They couldn’t even be considered losers, merely expendable, mere jesters.

In this land of despair, the cold wind brought forth the wanderers of the night.

A carriage, the sound of horse hooves and the restless neighing of the beasts terrifying in the dead silence. Each jolt of the carriage left a mark upon the dead flesh it traveled over.

The "Coachman" set down his whip, stepping down gracefully, his white robe held aloft by the thriving plants, moving like a ghost gliding along.

The messenger of Devonrayla opened the carriage door with a chilling smile.

"We have arrived, Lord Greda."

A quarter of an hour later, a short, comically stout leg stepped onto the carriage step.

The noble fat on his face swallowed his neck, his two eyes like the sole decoration on a melting cake. Dressed fastidiously, his body squeezed into a ball by the fabric, Lord Greda’s eyes were filled with irritation and arrogance, along with a hint of concealed fear.

"Useless! Useless!" Greda bellowed at the corpses lying close at hand. He had gambled his entire family’s fortune, but plans could not keep pace with change. He failed to become King and lost everything.

As a noble by birth, the world had punched him until he was left retching, his once grand illusions and noble pride now nothing but fleeting clouds.

Greda clutched his cane tightly, the sight of death and the onset of decay torturing his nerves, his beady eyes showing a hint of revulsion as he looked at the servant before him, unflappably calm.

A slave, a lowly slave, every loss suffered by Devonrayla should be borne by him.

Looking at the tall, thin figure, as thin as a sheet of paper, Greda could already hear in his mind the wails of this servant as he whipped him.

"This filthy, contemptible dog, if he fails me again, I will ensure he understands the consequences of fooling Devonrayla."

Greda’s eyes were fixed on his servant; he had ruined everything! Inside, he found sufficient reasons for his next course of action.

"We have arrived, Lord Greda." 𝚏𝕣𝕖𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚋𝚗𝐨𝐯𝕖𝕝.𝕔𝐨𝕞

At that moment, they stood at the center of the carcasses, those dim eyes that would not close in death, as if watching them.

This fear, ignited the the full brutality of Greda Devonrayla. He swung his cane, charging at the messenger.

"Where is the final trump card you spoke of? The one that would ensure my victory! You worthless skeleton! You’ve dared to bring me to this filthy, godforsaken place!"

"I did as you suggested, working from the shadows! I mercifully agreed to your damned plan! This is how you repay your benefactor! You mock me, you have ruined everything for Devonrayla! Destroyed everything for me!"

"I’m going to break your bones, making you spend the rest of your life like a stray dog, scavenging for food in the mud!"

The messenger faced his tirade, the smile on his face never ceasing.

"Indeed, everything has gone beyond my expectations, this is indeed my mistake, Lord Greda."

"I deeply sympathize with all that you have endured. Furthermore, thank you, your sacrifice has allowed me to triumph."

"My, victory."

```

The dagger, glinting with a cold light, plunged into Greda’s body, piercing through fat and penetrating the heart – the haughty staff would never be lifted again.

Despair appeared on Greda’s face, the same as that of the deceased, and before his vision plunged into complete darkness, he saw the servant who had shed their disguise.

The outline of the face was as soft and beautiful as a woman’s, but what was most extraordinary were those eyes— in the moonless night, they seemed to harbor stars.

Serio bowed with a smile to the dead body.

"Thank you for your contribution, your behind-the-scenes performance drew all the eyes of Holy Light and Dreya, being able to watch them closely was quite the experience,"

"Thank you for your stupidity and greed, which gave me this opportunity," Serio extracted the dagger and wiped the blood from it with his white robe.

"I originally planned to use two countries to complete the sacrificial ceremony, though there were some unexpected turns, I still witnessed something interesting."

"The flesh and blood of ten thousand, coupled with the noble blood of Devonrayla, should barely suffice. Heh, the world is indeed fair, even someone like you has value to be used."

Serio tore off his sleeve, revealing an arm covered in blood-red twisted runes, and as he looked up at the sky, he began chanting a bizarre song, starting his sacrifice ritual.

As his body contorted unnaturally, a chilling omen hovered over this oppressive land of death. In the darkness, mumbling could be heard, and plants drenched in plasma started to wither and rot.

The song changed, and from that contorted human form, a terrible, evil voice emerged. It spread to every corner of the world in a way incomprehensible to man.

Wriggling infants, laughing stars, churning dark waves, slumbering remains.

The land of the dead began to dance with demons, corpses rose to their feet, their fat turning the skin into some kind of nauseating gelatin, boneless limbs flailing in the air, as sickly grey carapaces sprouted from fingernails and spread.

From human shapes, they turned into some sort of giant armored creatures reminiscent of nautiluses.

The transformation continued, and blood began to seep from the corners of Serio’s eyes.

His senses had entered a new world, where he saw creatures screaming, heard sprites’ wild dance, smelled the beating of offerings, and felt, the terrifying gaze housed within distant stars.

Merely by the impulse of being watched, Serio felt his own blood burning, turning into something gel-like that clogged his veins, and his whole body swelled with pain.

Darkness, ultimately dominated all his senses.

Just as his soul was about to sink into hell, or perhaps some place beyond hell, a voice echoed in his heart.

"My child, you are the brightest star in the sky."

The deformed Serio let out a roar, the twist in his flesh altering his vocal cords, nobody knew what he was trying to express.

Nobody.

"I am Serio, the star I’ve decreed for myself."

"I’ve heard, every shimmering star is a deity peering at the ants below."

"You high and indifferent deity, make a deal with me."

There was no response, the gnawing pain was the best mockery of Serio’s foolish ritual. His body decayed, his consciousness erased.

In the void, terrible visions began to taint reality – these were the manifold twisting tendrils.

Blind arrogance, reckless folly.

The black tendrils plucked that head from the coral-like mountain of flesh, raising the head high like a grotesque, twisted flower blooming at midnight.

Dark clouds were bizarrely torn apart, and the light of stars appeared in those eyes.