Chapter 176: Silence Falls

read lotsstory inpatre** : belamy20

Naruto Clay Death Soldiers

Inside the restroom.

“Succubus?”

Soren’s eyebrow ticked up. His body crossed the distance in a blur. One hand locked around Jennifer’s throat and hauled her clean off the floor, cutting the scream short.

He hadn’t run into many of them in this world, but the ones in the old games always made that same noise when they started throwing skills around.

“How the hell did you end up like this?”

Jennifer thrashed, long black nails punching out of her fingertips as she clawed at his arm. The sleeves didn’t even tear.

Soren decided conversation was a waste of time. He drove a straight punch into her gut.

“Settle down and answer the question.”

“Ghk—hrrk!”

Her body convulsed. A thick spray of black blood mixed with chunks of organ splattered across the tiles. Half-digested meat she had just swallowed almost came up with it.

Pain and pure humiliation slammed into her at the same time.

Ever since she woke up in those woods with this new power, Jennifer had felt like she was something better than human—a predator standing above the rest. No one had ever put her on the floor like this.

She lifted her head, cloudy pinprick pupils locked on Soren. The seductive fog started to gather—

Then light flared in his other hand.

A long blade of condensed purple demonic power appeared, humming with raw magic. Jennifer felt the pressure rolling off the edge and the open impatience on his face. Her pupils blew wide again, human once more.

“Now answer me.” Soren rested the tip under her chin. “How did you turn into this?”

The cold sting against her skin made her swallow.

“Low… Low Shoulder.”

“Low Shoulder?”

She nodded. “A few nights ago my friend Anita and I went to that bar to see them play. The place caught fire. They dragged me into a van while everyone was running.”

“At first I thought they just wanted to rape me in the back.”

Her voice stayed flat, almost bored, as she relived it. “Instead they tied me to a rock and said sacrificing me to a demon would make them famous and rich.”

Soren gave a small nod. That matched the unnatural explosion of press coverage the band had been riding the last few days. Disposable tools, nothing more—someone higher up dangled a little fame and let them do the dirty work.

“I begged. I fought. Nothing worked. They shoved a knife into my heart, waited until I stopped moving, and left.”

“When I woke up… I was like this.”

Soren looked at the blood drying on her face. “They did this to you. You got power out of it. Why aren’t you eating them? Why come to school and kill regular students instead?”

Jennifer’s answer was not the rage he expected.

A sick, delighted smile spread across her ruined features.

“Eat them? Why would I?”

She reached up and stroked her own blood-slick cheek. The skin under her fingers was smooth and tight again.

“What’s wrong with how I am now? I should be thanking them. You don’t understand. A few bodies and I stay beautiful forever. No more diets. No more worrying about my figure. No more scars.”

Her face twisted with pure excitement. She was shaking. “I love this. I love what I am.”

Soren watched the mania for a second, then shook his head.

No saving this one.

When he first realized she still had human thoughts after a forced sacrifice, he had considered calling Constantine for a proper exorcism. Straight possession usually left the host weak but alive. Better than dead.

That option was gone. Her mind had already bent around the new hunger. Leave her breathing and she would just keep hunting for the next body to keep the skin perfect.

More innocent people would die.

“Looks like you’re enjoying yourself.”

Soren’s expression never changed. The purple blade slid forward a quiet inch.

Jennifer’s twisted smile stayed frozen on her face as her body dropped to the floor.

Two small flames rose from the corpses—hers and the athlete’s—and dragged both of them down into darkness.

“Soren… them?”

Patty stared at the vanishing fire. She knew he was cleaning the scene, but watching a girl she had actually known end like this still sat wrong in her chest.

“If I left her alive, more people would die.”

Soren shook his head. The blade dissolved.

Outside, a massive air-raid siren began to howl.

The restroom tiles started peeling away from the walls, revealing raw red flesh underneath.

In the auditorium the chaos had already emptied the floor. Broken glasses, abandoned heels, and scattered decorations littered the dark space.

Carrie stood in the middle of the wreckage, turning in place, face tight with worry.

Flashlight beams cut across her from the darkness.

The members of Low Shoulder closed in with ugly smiles.

“Looking for your boyfriend, pretty thing?”

Nikolai swirled the glass in his hand, eyes crawling over her without shame.

“Did he run off and leave you here alone?”

“Not a great place to wait right now. Why don’t you come backstage with us? Safer.”

The bassist gave a low whistle, staring at the simple dress that still showed every soft line of her body. Something dirty lit in his eyes.

“Yeah. We’re the heroes, remember? Stick with us and nothing bad happens.”

Carrie took two steps back. Her spine hit a table. Alessa sat quietly on the chair behind her.

“Stay—stay away!”

Her voice shook, but the refusal was clear.

“Oh? She’s got some fire. I like the wild ones.”

Nikolai didn’t retreat. He reached out, fingers aiming for her cheek.

“Relax. We’re not the bad guys—”

Carrie stared at the approaching hand. Her breathing went sharp and fast.

Old memories cracked open—years of abuse at home, the constant bullying at school, every buried humiliation rising at once.

Raw telekinetic force spilled out of her.

Trash and overturned chairs lifted into the air on invisible currents.

In the dark, half-drunk on the idea of an easy catch, none of the band noticed.

Carrie’s power was seconds from crushing them into red mist when a small, cold hand closed around her clenched fingers.

She froze. The frantic breathing hitched. She looked down.

Alessa sat on the chair, one hand still holding a melting ice cream, the other locked tight around Carrie’s.

She could feel every tremor in the older girl’s body—the helplessness, the isolation, the rage with nowhere to go.

It was the same feeling she had carried while they tied her to the frame and lit the fire.

Burning had hurt.

Alessa did not want the big sister who bought her snacks to hurt the same way.

She turned her head. Those empty black eyes fixed on Nikolai and the others like deep water.

Melted ice cream ran down her fingers in sticky trails.

She was not happy.

She was angry.

A piercing air-raid siren screamed across the auditorium.

The black hall folded into something older and worse.

Wall paint blistered and peeled like skin under flame, floating upward to reveal rusted wire mesh and wet red tissue underneath.

Despair erupted outward with Alessa at the center.

It swallowed the entire auditorium in a single breath, then kept going—dragging the students who had just escaped onto the lawn into Silent Hill’s Otherworld with everyone else.

Nikolai never noticed.

He only felt the air grow colder.

A soft rush of wind cut through the dark.

“Shhk—”

His right arm suddenly felt light.

He stared at the clean stump where his elbow used to be.

Blood erupted a heartbeat later.

“AAAAAHHH—MY ARM!”

Nikolai staggered back, screaming, one hand clamped over the spurting wound. He hit the floor hard.

Only then did he realize the rest of the band was gone.

Only then did he see what the world had become—and what had taken his arm.

A figure over two meters tall stood between him and the two girls.

Bare, heavily muscled body wrapped in a leather apron. A rusted triangular helmet sat where a head should be. In one massive hand it dragged a giant blade that still dripped.

Pyramid Head took one slow step forward.

“Help—somebody help! Monster—stay back!”

Nikolai’s bladder let go. Hot urine soaked his pants. His legs refused to work. He could only scrabble backward on his remaining hand and the stump, leaving a smeared trail of blood.

Clean leather shoes stopped in front of him.

Hope flickered. Nikolai’s head snapped up.

In the low light he saw the young man clearly—black suit with dark-red pinstripes, not a single wrinkle or speck of dust on it. White hair stood out sharp against the dark. Eyes that held a faint purple glow looked down at him without expression.

read lotsstory inpatre** : belamy20

Naruto Clay Death Soldiers