The door, broken by Count Jashua's kick, hit hard the table on which there were various foods. People paying close attention to the sounds on the upper floor were only looking at him now.
The Young Count had stood before those looking around in panic at the head of the table in the state he returned from the valley.
"Who are you, what is this audacity?"
Perhaps this wasn't the answer the person daring to ask the question wanted, but the Young Count nailed him to the wall with his weapon.
Before the man's voice could reach Count Jashua, the weapon consisting of blood essence had entered his waist and separated him from his friends dragging him in the air.
"Draw your weapons!"
"Attack!"
While the foods decorating the table on the ground floor started to get wet with blood, similar scenes were experienced on one upper floor too.
Two katanas reached towards the arm of a disciple. The first place they touched was the shoulder, a few breaths later they reached the fingers.
The woman didn't have a one-piece arm anymore; bony fleshes consisting of dozens of pieces were looking at her scattered everywhere.
"Who are you?"
Unlike the first, the second floor was dark. The only thing illuminating the dormitory where two-story wooden bunk beds were found was the moonlight reflecting off Alis's katanas and scattering.
As shadows one tone darker than the dark were cut by silver lights, a blood-red color started to dominate the walls.
"Run away!"
"Let those who love their lives run away!"
In the first moments, Alis's attacks found a response, but a very short time later, the disciples understanding they couldn't cope with him started to run towards the lower floor.
What they didn't know was that the youth scaring them to death had already closed the escape routes. The order Alis and Count Jashua received was clear; not even a single person would come out of this building alive.
The white-haired youth mowed down three people in one move; he had no mercy at all against his enemies coming one after another.
The disciples waking up from their sleep were in a state not knowing what to do; when they headed to the door the enemy was at the door, when they wanted to throw themselves down for dear life the enemy appeared at the window.
As for the bottom floor, the situation was a little different; there was someone in front of the door which was the only exit, and he was ceaselessly swinging the long club-like weapons appearing in his hand one after another.
Count Jashua had guessed at least thirty people were eating food no matter from where you looked; right now half of them were in a state nailed to the walls.
"You, I know you!"
These became the last words of a person who could still breathe. The pipe entering from his open mouth had hung him on another wall too with the help of the hook forming behind it.
The wide hall at the entrance of the three-story building resembled a picture exhibition prepared using live human bodies. When the blood leaking from between the floorboards of the upper floor got involved in the business too the painting was completed; the artist had managed to reflect his imagination to the last drop.
The Young Count pasted the last survivor by holding the weapon in his own hands personally; the blood gushing from the man's mouth fell right on top of the ones just newly dried on his face.
Whoever was eating their meals in joy a few minutes ago was dead, even this wasn't enough for Count Jashua because the words said to him hadn't been wiped from his mind yet.
He called the bloods on the floor; he could command them as if they belonged to him since eternity. He had attained this feature thanks to the remnant he ate in Niconya, in the dungeon Gulag hid them in, and working for years he had managed to assimilate it.
While the bloods spun around him like a tornado, they accelerated so much that the ground cracked and the earth on the floor started to erode towards the depths. Then the Young Count suddenly swung his two hands sideways; the blood droplets hit the walls surrounding the hall without losing their speed.
Dust clouds rising from all four sides met in the middle of the room; for ten breaths they continued mixing with each other without dispersing. Finally, when the particles settled on the ground, the destruction the attack created was laid bare before eyes. The four walls were covered with cavities, each the size of a walnut.
Inside the red walls were white-colored cavities; this was because of the color of the blood of the walls, and the color of the skins of the dead people inside the cavities.
Count Jashua calmly completed one full turn where he was, his lips curled upwards slightly. Calmly going out of the door he entered, he mixed into the darkness; he hadn't moved away but it was impossible for someone not knowing he was there to see him.
The region where the Garbage House was located carried the feature of being the most desolate place of the sect. As for the squad assigned to the service of the Garbage House and low-level residences, they lived in the three-story building at least as remote as it.
They were inside the sect but at the same time outside of it too; the closest of the regions where important people and residences were dense was a half-hour distance by walking.
Still, saying just in case, Count Jashua went outside and mixed into the darkness; the necessity of being cautious had been engraved into his blood during the Two-Year Wars.
At the moments when he embraced the fresh air, the storm ravaging the second floor was living its final moments too; Alis stood in front of the window perhaps for the last time.
"You are a monster, a monster!"
Someone whose empty sleeves were dangling in place of her two arms shouted looking at Alis from where she froze, meanwhile the white-haired youth was returning to his real shape too.
"I guess I am!"
In the dark environment, a white spot reached her throat in the blink of an eye and tore her head from its place it belonged to, her body. The woman lost her feature of being the only one in one piece in the dormitory too; the pupils of her eyes remaining open were trembling.
While those on the ground floor literally turned to dust, the residents of the second floor had been shredded to pieces. While Alis watched his captive, he realized he created almost the exact same of the scene he saw when he rapidly entered the Pain House tonight; he had been able to give what was wanted.
"I guess it's over!"
On the third floor, inside the study room furnished with ornate furniture, two women were watching each other standing opposite to each other; when the sounds inside the building were cut off, one of them started speaking.
"If you think you will walk away scot-free with this, you are terribly mistaken!"
The one answering was none other than the person raiding the Garbage House with the disciples under her command an evening ago; in the moments she was left alone with Nora, she was trying to keep her tail upright.
"Maybe I will, maybe I won't, but I am sure you won't be able to see this!"
The Blood God attacked with her daggers she took out of her inter-spatial ring; her enemy, as for her, responded by drawing a shield she created from blood essence and a short sword.
"Come on, I wonder very much how you will kill me with those trashes in your hand!"
It seemed the woman possessed an equipment that could store blood essences, and thanks to this she relied on her weapons she formed quite a bit.
If it were another time this attitude could make Nora laugh, but the Blood God's facial expression hadn't changed since her last entrance to the Pain House.
She brought down her two hands she joined above her head onto the shield at top speed; two silver-colored daggers cut the shield consisting of blood essence from end to end.
The commander of the service squad shouted with pain; all the fingers of her left hand holding the shield were taken from her together with her shattered equipment.
While bellowing, she took a solid kick to her chest; passing the wall she hit gliding in the air too, she rolled into the room obvious to be the bedroom.
Without letting a second pass, Nora dived after her; although the blow she made with her right hand was blocked with the enemy's short sword, the dagger on the left side cut her calf from end to end.
It was an attack made on mobility; the commander wouldn't be able to use her right leg like before after this. She swung her sword with rancor; slipping to the left and escaping the blow coming to her head, while Nora turned a half turn, she worked both her weapons on her adversary's body.
One came to the left leg, the other to the place where the right arm joins the shoulder; one more bitter scream would make the third floor ring. The woman remaining with no finger on her left hand and no strength to hold her weapon in her right hand was trying to escape towards the wall dragging her two legs covered in blood too.
When her in vain effort went down the drain after the kick she took to her legs about to lose their function, she just remained on her back on the ground. While her eyes were on the crazily swinging hair of the young girl, the beating of her heart was piercing through the silence.
"What kind of a human are you?"