Chapter 75: Instantaneously

In the midst of the impending onslaught from the twin adversaries, Xenia found himself ensnared in a precarious situation, one where the odds of emerging unharmed were infinitesimal at best. In a moment of profound resolve, he chose not to evade their lethal advance but to confront it head-on. Despite his tender age, Xenia was afforded no clemency from the formidable twin floor guardians.

With a swiftness that bordered on the uncanny, they executed their strikes, severing one of his arms and inflicting grievous harm to his leg. The force of their assault drove him to the ground, forcing him to kneel under the weight of his injuries. A dark, visceral crimson began to seep from the deep lacerations, staining the ground beneath him.

As if a malevolent spell had been cast, the reservoir of energy he had been conserving vanished like smoke in the wind, sapped away by the relentless pain of his newly inflicted wounds.

"We hate to do it, kid, but you must perish, for your existence threatens the quality of our product."

"This is my first time killing a child. This sure feels... terrifying."

Even though Xenia possessed immortality, the gift did not shield him from the harrowing grip of pain. Far from it. In the wake of the merciless assault, his body still ached with the excruciating agony inflicted upon him, a testament to the very real and tangible torment immortality couldn't spare him from.

As he valiantly fought the overwhelming urge to voice his anguish, Xenia found himself cursing silently beneath his breath. Gathering every ounce of his indomitable will, he attempted to rise despite the loss of an arm and the near-paralysis of his wounded leg. Shallow cuts, though they may seem insignificant in the grand scheme of things, were proving to be a formidable adversary in their own right.

"Heh? You're one tough kid. If you were my child, I'd totally make you into a warrior."

"Oops, be careful with that leg, boy."

With every step, Xenia's stagger was a testament to his unyielding resolve. Clenching his teeth, he summoned the very depths of his inner strength, channeling it into his one remaining leg, which teetered precariously as he fought to maintain his balance. This single leg was now his last line of defense against the impending assault launched by the relentless twin floor guardians.

Stationary and resolute, Xenia refused to yield any further ground. His unwavering determination stood as a formidable obstacle in the path of the twins. Though they had already taken a devastating toll on him, there was no doubt that they yearned to deliver the final blow and bring an end to his suffering. For Xenia, this confrontation marked the culmination of his relentless pursuit—a quest for the freedom of his family, a journey that had now led him to this bitter, fateful moment at the precipice of his own demise.

"Come! I won't back down just because you've got my arm and leg!"

Xenia's unwavering determination remained unshaken in the face of the approaching twins, who served as the vigilant guardians of the factory's security, ensuring the integrity of their goods as they were distributed across the nation.

A palpable tension hung in the air as the twins abruptly halted their advance, their collective purpose clear and unwavering. With blades drawn and poised for action, they prepared to unleash a relentless assault, their synchronized movements reflecting the precision of their training. On the opposite end, Xenia squared his shoulders, his body a bastion of resilience, poised to endure the impending maelstrom of blows that would signal the abrupt conclusion of his life.

"Come!"

In a breathtaking display of dexterity, the twin guardians of the floor executed a swift and graceful maneuver, dashing past Xenia's seemingly defenseless stance. With a flourish, they expertly sheathed their swords, their movements so fluid and precise that it appeared as if they had performed an artful dance.

The chilling moment was punctuated by the grim and inevitable: Xenia's head slid from his neck, lifeless, and his remaining arm fell to the unforgiving ground with a hushed thud. In this fateful instant, the battle reached its tragic conclusion, leaving behind the lingering echoes of a courageous soul who had fought valiantly for the freedom of his family.

"Who's gonna clean that now?"

"Well, not me. Have one of the guards remove it for us later once the

execution being held in the plaza is done."

With their duty to neutralize the threat against their precious cargo now fulfilled, the twin guardians seamlessly retraced their steps, returning to the very same positions Xenia and Crysalia had discovered them in earlier. The twins assumed their statuesque vigil, their expressions inscrutable as if the battle had never transpired.

Then, in a shroud of darkness that seemed to descend from nowhere, the room was plunged into obscurity once more. The abyss-like void swallowed everything, leaving no trace of the world outside its inky grasp.

Crysalia navigated her way to the fourth level of the factory with a cautious grace that spoke of her experience. However, the moment she set foot in that dimly lit expanse, an impenetrable veil of total darkness engulfed her, obscuring her vision entirely. It was as though a heavy curtain had fallen, concealing any hint of what might be concealed within the shadowy recesses of the cavernous, echoing floor.

"It's much colder here than the previous floor."

Rather than relying on a lever to be pulled, the room itself seemed to defy the darkness, with the lights rekindling of their own accord. A soft, ethereal glow began to suffuse the entire floor, gently dispelling the obscurity that had shrouded it moments before. However, as the room bathed in luminosity, it unveiled a chilling revelation that sent shivers down Crysalia's spine.

The uncomfortable truth was laid bare: the factory had been a grim sanctuary for those who had ventured within, a place where countless souls had entered but none had departed. The haunting knowledge hung in the air, casting a pall over the once-illuminated surroundings, as the weight of the factory's grim secrets pressed down upon Crysalia's heart.

Amidst boxes once filled with cold cuts of meat, a grisly transformation had occurred. The floor was now a macabre tapestry, a nightmarish tableau of dismembered human body parts strewn haphazardly in every direction. The gruesome sight was overwhelming, with piles upon piles of limbs and torsos, their once-mortal forms now reduced to gruesome remnants.

A chilling detail that sent a shiver through Crysalia's very soul was the preservation of some severed heads, stored meticulously in an environment of chilling cold. The juxtaposition of these preserved visages against the backdrop of carnage only intensified the horror. The sheer dread of the scene overwhelmed her, causing her to lose her footing, tumbling to the floor in a hauntingly silent descent.

Every attempt Crysalia made to utter words was stifled, her voice quashed by the sheer astonishment and paralyzing fear that had taken hold. The nightmarish tableau before her defied all comprehension.

To compound the horror, there, upon the same boxes that lay strewn about the floor, appeared to be an eerie semblance of order. Each container, meticulously sealed and labeled, bore a product name and a description of its contents. Yet, the insidious truth lay concealed beneath this facade of organization.

For, in stark contradiction to the labels that innocently claimed to house canned sardines, the actual contents were fragments of human anatomy, gruesomely partitioned to fit within the confines of those containers. But as the chilling revelation unfolded, a question loomed ominously: did the depths of this terror extend even further?

Vomiting when disgusted or repulsed is a physiological response that can be explained by the complex interplay between our emotions and the body's survival mechanisms. It is a complex interplay between emotional and physiological responses that has evolved as a protective mechanism to prevent the ingestion of potentially harmful substances. This response can vary among individuals and is influenced by both biology and learned associations.

With a trembling hand, Crysalia weakly brushed her mouth, using the collar of her clothes as an impromptu napkin. The revelation she had stumbled upon within the factory's grim confines hung heavily in her mind, like a shroud of darkness that refused to dissipate.

In retrospect, she considered the fateful decision to enter this forbidden place, a choice she would never have entertained were it not for the unwavering resolve and influence of Xenia. The path they had chosen was fraught with unforeseen horrors, and the weight of that realization pressed upon her with each passing moment, like the chilling grip of destiny itself.

"Are they mixing human flesh in the sardines? If so, then we have been eating humans since?!"

The mere contemplation of her recent discovery threatened to send Crysalia reeling into another bout of nausea. It was as if the memories of savoring her first bite, relishing the tantalizing sauce of what she had believed to be canned sardines, had been irrevocably tainted, leaving behind a haunting imprint in her psyche.