Hatred

In the tense moment where Lucius and Ingram's swords were locked, the air thick with betrayal, Lucius's voice cut through the silence, his question sharp and laden with incredulity. "Why, Ingram? We were supposed to stand on the same side, to protect and to serve. What twisted your oath into this treachery?"

Their weapons, still intertwined, became the physical manifestation of their ideological divide, a clash of principles as much as steel. The question hung in the air, unanswered, as Ingram's eyes flickered with a mixture of emotions, his reasons buried deep beneath layers of deception and darkness.

Then, slicing through the tension, a malicious laugh echoed around the cavernous lair, rich with mockery and dark amusement. The Aswang, draped in her guise of beguiling beauty, reveled in the discord she had sown among the humans. "Oh, dear Lucius," she cooed, her voice a serpentine caress that seemed to slither through the shadows, "Ingram has been mine for quite some time. A willing servant to my cause, seduced by the promise of power and immortality"

"She speaks the truth, Lucius," Ingram finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, yet heavy with resignation. "I am hers. A minion, as she so fondly calls it. The promises she made... they were too tempting to resist."

The revelation was a blow, not just to Lucius's mission but to the very principles that guided his path as a sellsword. Betrayal by one of their own was a wound deeper than any inflicted by the monsters they hunted. Yet, Lucius's resolve did not waver. If anything, the treachery only steeled his determination.

With a swift motion, Lucius disengaged from Ingram, putting distance between them. His stance was one of readiness, his sword still alight with flames that seemed to burn brighter with his renewed purpose. "Then it seems I stand against both man and monster tonight," Lucius declared, his voice resolute. "But know this: I will not falter. Your reign of terror ends now, Aswang. And you, Ingram, will answer for your betrayal."

In the midst of their confrontation, the Aswang unleashed another dark revelation, one that cast Ingram's betrayal in an even more sinister light. Her voice, laced with a chilling satisfaction, cut through the tension like a knife.

"Ingram has been more than a mere servant to me. He has been my provider, my hunter. Every victim that has entered my lair, every innocent life that has been extinguished under this roof, came through him," she disclosed, her eyes gleaming with a perverse delight. "Women, children... it mattered not to him. And in return for his... services, I allowed him his... pleasures. Be it with his victims or with me, his reward was the satisfaction of his most depraved desires."

As the Aswang's chilling revelations continued to unfurl in the dim light of her lair, another harrowing truth emerged, adding layers to the horror that Lucius was already grappling with.

"And let's not forget the little one who thought she could escape my grasp, the girl named Sheena," the Aswang said, her words dripping with malice. "It was Ingram here who brought her to me, a gift, though she proved more resilient than expected."

Ingram, his face a mask of cold indifference now, turned to Lucius, the flicker of betrayal in his eyes turning into a blaze. "And about that girl, Sheena... it was me who ended her life, not by the hand of this creature but by my own. You tasked me with her safety, and instead, I delivered her death. A fitting tribute, don't you think?"

The revelation struck Lucius with the force of a tempest, a maelstrom of rage, disbelief, and sorrow. Sheena, the innocent girl he had saved from the jaws of death, had been mercilessly slain by the man he had entrusted with her safety. Ingram's confession peeled away any remnants of camaraderie or brotherhood Lucius might have felt towards him, leaving behind only a deep, seething hatred.

The Aswang's laughter, a sound as vile as the deeds she recounted, filled the room, a macabre symphony to Ingram's betrayal. This was no mere minion she described; Ingram was a collaborator in the darkest sense, a sellsword who had sold his soul for the pleasure of cruelty and the embrace of a monster.

In the oppressive silence of the Aswang's lair, Lucius's expression hardened into a mask of unwavering resolve. Words had lost their meaning in the face of such profound betrayal and evil. Without a word, Lucius reached into his pouch, drawing forth a weapon that seemed to catch the dim light and twist it into something ominous. It was a whip, but not just any whip—this one was crafted from the tail of a stingray, known for its lethal barbs and unparalleled durability.

As Ingram and the Aswang watched, a momentary flicker of uncertainty crossing their vile countenances, Lucius anointed the whip with holy water from a small vial. The liquid sizzled upon contact, the sacred purity reacting against the weapon's latent potency. Now armed with a sword in his right hand and the stingray tail whip in his left, Lucius stood ready, a formidable warrior against the darkness before him.

He no longer sought dialogue or understanding. The time for words had passed, and the moment for action had arrived. Lucius, with his grim resolve and lethal arsenal, was ready to battle the darkness, a lone warrior against the night's deepest horrors. The silence that followed was not peace but the calm before a storm, a tempest that Lucius himself was about to unleash.