The Children of Lyrin labored tirelessly around the ruins, their chants blending with the faint hum of ancient runes. The serpent-shaped seal glimmered faintly, a dark promise of power long forgotten. Their obsession was singular: unleash the spawns of Gehenna and bring judgment.
Among them, the executive officials commanded the operation with iron discipline. Orders were given sharply, punishments swift. One of the lower executives, pale and trembling, muttered to another as they adjusted the torches illuminating the runes:
"This… this place… it feels wrong. The air… it's like it's alive. Can't we just leave? We've already spent months here, and nothing—nothing good comes from this place."
His companion shivered, whispering back, "I know… but the executives… they'd kill us if we stopped now. Just keep your head down and do what they say."
The first executive swallowed hard, eyes darting to the shadows. "Still… I've seen things in the dark corners of these ruins… shapes… moving… sounds. I don't like it. Something's watching."
Before his fear could fully settle, a slave stumbled, dropping a bundle of ritual tools. Red-faced with fury, one of the male executives grabbed him by the collar.
"What did I tell you about obeying my orders?!" he roared. The slave whimpered, desperate. "I… I… I'm sorry, master! Please—"
The man's hand struck one last time, merciless and final. The slave crumpled lifelessly to the cold stone floor.
At that exact moment, the ruins shuddered violently, dust cascading from cracked stones. The glowing runes flickered with unholy light, and darkness poured from the cracks like ink. A chorus of inhuman cries filled the hall, shrill and agonized, echoing off the ancient walls.
Screams erupted from the lower executives:
"W-what is happening?!"
"Run! Run, it's pulling us in!"
The abyss swelled from the serpent seal, and one by one, the malevolent force dragged most of the executive officials into the ground, swallowing them with monstrous cries. Only a single figure remained unclaimed around the seal.
Asta, the female executive, knelt in the ruins, eyes wide but controlled. Amidst the chaos, she saw it: a baby swaddled in black cloth, lying at the center of the seal, crying softly.
"Curious," she murmured, stepping closer. "So… this is what the ruins were hiding."
The lower executives, now huddled at the edge of the chamber, trembled. One whispered, voice barely audible, "M-mistress… we… should leave… this place… it's alive… it's cursed…"
Asta turned, her gaze cold and unyielding. "Do you think a curse frightens me? This child… this power… it's the key to our plan. And I will shape it."
She drew a small blade and pricked her palm, letting blood flow into the infant's swaddling cloth. The moment her blood touched him, the ruins shuddered in response. Raw, ancient energy surged through the baby—the powers of Gehenna awakening.
The infant cooed, and the black runes around the seal pulsed faintly, as if resonating with the blood ritual.
Asta smiled, a menacing curve that made the lower executives flinch. "My blood… my life… now you are mine. … The darkness… it lives again."
The remaining lower executives whispered among themselves, terror-stricken:
"He… it's just a baby… and yet… I can feel… the power…"
"W-we should leave. Now. Before it notices us…"
But Asta ignored them. She held the infant close, feeling the ancient energy thrumming against her chest, already sensing its potential for destruction.
The ruins fell silent, the quaking ceasing. The baby's cries echoed softly, a herald of Azriah's third life, bound to Asta, the blood mother of the spawn of Gehenna.
Asta's eyes gleamed in the dim torchlight. "Let the world tremble… let the cycle begin anew."