Tower of Paradise

Soon, we reached the end of the hallway, where an enormous iron door loomed imposingly before us.

—I’ll open the door now. Get ready.

Alice reached for the large handle of that imposing door. From inside, I sensed an unusual presence, a kind of aura that immediately put me on alert.

I couldn’t see what was on the other side, but Alice took a step back while muttering:

—What the hell…

The metallic screech of the hinges echoed ominously in the silent hallway as the door began to open with painful slowness. Each inch revealed more of the darkness lurking beyond. I braced myself for any danger, my senses sharpened to the maximum, my body ready to react with the precision that had always defined me.

As the gap widened, a current of cold, stale air escaped from within, carrying a smell unlike anything we had encountered so far. It was a mix of rot, dampness, and something metallic I instantly recognized as fresh blood.

The dim light from the hallway barely illuminated the first few meters of the interior, leaving the rest shrouded in oppressive, impenetrable darkness. However, my eyes began to adjust gradually, allowing me to make out vague shapes among the shadows—unsettling silhouettes that seemed to move subtly at the edges of my perception.

As we ventured deeper, I noticed the walls were entirely covered in dark stains and viscous substances I preferred not to identify. The stench that had hit us upon opening the door lingered, though it was now slightly more bearable, perhaps because our senses were starting to numb as a defense mechanism.

My heart pounded rapidly as my brain struggled to comprehend the scene before my eyes. Though I had witnessed all kinds of horrors in our previous mission, I still found it hard to grasp the fragility of human life and the terrible ways it could be extinguished. My calculating mind worked tirelessly, analyzing every detail, searching for clues, preparing for any eventuality.

—It’s horrible —I clicked my tongue in annoyance, though in truth, I was trying to hide the shiver that ran down my spine.

—Four people, right? —her voice sounded indifferent, clearly accustomed to such macabre scenes.

There, in the farthest corner, my eyes found two shapeless masses of flesh composed of human limbs: arms and legs brutally severed and crushed into bloody spheres, like deranged sculptures created by a disturbed mind. The body of a man leaned against the wall, his head tilted toward the ceiling at an unnatural angle, as if his neck were broken. A trickle of blood dripped from his nose, and another slid from the corner of his mouth. The lower half of his body was missing; only his upper torso remained intact, while his organs and intestines spilled onto the floor in a viscous pool of blackened blood and bodily fluids.

And then we saw it. Beside that man, a few meters away, leaning calmly against the blood-stained wall, a boy one or two years younger than me rested with a disturbing tranquility. His small hands were completely stained with blood, and with indifferent movements, he devoured what was unmistakably roasted human flesh, feeding on his own kind with chilling naturalness.

The boy, noticing our presence, slowly raised his head. At first, he looked at us with eyes full of childlike curiosity, as if we were unexpected visitors on a playful afternoon. Then, his expression darkened.

The boy stood up slowly. In the dim light, I could better make out his features: a face that could have been innocent in another context, with light orange eyes that matched his hair, stained with dried and fresh blood, reflecting a mischievous smile.

—Intruders —he said with a grim expression and a hostile voice. It was clear we weren’t welcome—. What are you doing here?

I opted for a strategy of appeasement, trying to keep the situation under control while assessing our options.

—We’re not here to cause trouble —I forced a conciliatory smile to project an image of calm and non-threatening intent—, we’re just passing through.

—No one is just “passing through” in this place —the boy replied with surprising intelligence for his age—. Everyone comes looking for something… or running from something.

His words resonated with an uncomfortable truth. Indeed, we were looking for something: the evolutionary container. But I hadn’t expected such a response from the mouth of a cannibalistic child.

—Reinhardt! —I slightly turned my head upon hearing Alice’s urgent voice; she was looking at me with a strange expression; in her cold, distant eyes, there was an indescribable fear I had never seen in her before—. We have to run!

Before I could respond, before I could even process Alice’s warning, the figure of a silhouette materialized between us. Alice and I locked eyes, wide with shock. It was as if time had stopped. My body, usually agile and prepared, froze, unable to move, consumed by an electrifying terror. I even stopped breathing.

I felt my heart pounding in my chest as despair settled in my mind. There was no doubt. The figure standing between us was a third-evolution monster… The evolutionary container we had been searching for.

—Do we have a guest? —a captivating female voice whispered beside me.

Nonsense, I wanted to say, but I couldn’t. It felt as if I’d been struck by lightning. I looked at my right hand and saw it was covered in sweat as I realized it was the monster’s voice. The idea of fighting that thing was absurd, if not utterly insane. My mind, which had always been my greatest strength, screamed that our chances of survival were nearly zero.

I expected to see a deformed, menacing creature, but what my eyes beheld was a female figure of almost suffocating beauty. Barefoot, her dark skin glowed with a warm radiance, as if the sun had caressed it for centuries. Her curly, midnight-black hair cascaded softly, barely contained by a delicate pink ribbon that contrasted with its intensity. Her eyes, a deep emerald green, sparkled with a glow that seemed to hold ancient secrets. The simple black dress she wore barely contained her sensual, perfectly proportioned figure, as if sculpted by an artist obsessed with perfection. Her lips curved into a smile that seemed capable of enchanting men.

The woman didn’t seem to care about our presence, armed and ready for battle, as she approached the boy.

—Mom! —suddenly, the boy closed the distance between them and hugged the monster tightly—. Are you okay now? I missed you so much!

To my surprise, the boy’s voice sounded genuinely concerned and happy. The creature lowered her gaze and gently stroked the boy’s head with one of her pale hands, like a loving mother would with her child. This was the worst possible scenario. Neither I nor even Alice could move as we watched, paralyzed, the twisted scene unfold.