Time seemed to stretch, each second an eternity of mounting fear.
She waited, every nerve ending screaming, for something – anything – to change.
But nothing did. The torture continued, relentlessly, brutally.
Just when Hana thought her heart would burst from fear, when the suffocating dread felt like it would swallow her whole, she heard the echoing footsteps approaching again.
The jailer was back. And this time, he wasn't empty-handed.
He swung a wicked-looking handsaw back and forth, its teeth glinting faintly in the torchlight. The sound, a rasping, metallic whisper, sent a fresh wave of icy terror through Hana.
He stopped in front of her again, resting the saw casually on his shoulder. "So," he said, his voice still cheerful but now edged with a predatory anticipation, "you've had your fun watching everyone else, right? Enjoyed the show?"
Hana's breath hitched. She could only shake her head slightly, tears welling in her eyes. The sight of the saw paralyzed her with absolute terror.
"Well," the jailer said, his grin widening behind his hood, "now it's your turn." He lifted the saw, the rasping sound filling the silence in the brief pause of screams around them.
Hana's mind screamed, but no sound escaped her lips. Her eyes widened in pure terror as the jailer raised the saw higher, taking a step closer.
But before the saw could descend, before it could even touch her skin, the cell was rocked by a deafening explosion.
The stone walls trembled, dust and debris rained down from the ceiling, and the air filled with the roar of collapsing stone.
The jailers were thrown off balance, their expressions shifting from smug cruelty to stunned disbelief. Chaos erupted in the cramped space.
Hana flinched, yanking uselessly against the cold chains securing her wrists high on the wall.
Just as the initial shockwave subsided, a figure, dramatically silhouetted against the ragged hole punched into the stone wall, stood firmly amidst the swirling dust and falling rubble.
The sudden silence after the explosion was almost as jarring as the noise itself.
Through the thick, choking dust and continuing chaos, Hana squinted, trying to make out who was responsible for this sudden, violent intervention.
It was a man, tall and lean, clad entirely in dark, form-fitting attire that seemed to swallow the light, allowing him to blend effortlessly with the deep shadows of the crumbling prison. His face was completely hidden behind a silver mask crafted into the shape of a human face, utterly devoid of expression. It slightly reflected the flickering torchlight in unsettling, distorted ways, making it seem chillingly inhuman.
He then moved with an unnerving speed and precision, a blur of dark fabric and glinting silver.
Panic erupted amongst the jailers.
The sounds of torture abruptly ceased, replaced by shouts and the clash of steel.
Hana heard one of the jailers cry out in disbelief and terror, "The Beheader? How did he find this place?!"
The masked man didn't speak. He didn't need to. His actions spoke volumes, painting a canvas of brutal efficiency.
He moved through the jailers like a phantom, his movements fluid yet lethally precise.
Hana couldn't follow the details clearly. Her vision swam, and the sounds were a terrified screams, sickening 'thud's, and the wet, sharp 'schlick' of blade meeting flesh.
Yet, even through her dazed state, she sensed a chilling cruelty in his methods. It wasn't just about killing them; it seemed he was ensuring their demise was neither quick nor painless.
She saw brief, horrifying scenes of a jailer writhing on the ground, limbs bent at unnatural angles before a dark shape descended, another jailer pinned against the wall, gasping, before being systematically dismantled.
The silver mask remained impassive throughout, a stark contrast to the suffering inflicted. He moved with sharp focus, like someone carefully carrying out a plan for revenge, no matter how violent it was.
The fight, if it could even be called that, was terrifyingly one-sided.
The jailers, moments before reveling in their power over helpless captives, were now mere fodder for the masked intruder. Their frantic attacks were parried with contemptuous ease, their defenses shattered before they could even fully form.
Within minutes, the sounds of struggle died down, replaced by a heavy, dripping silence punctuated only by ragged gasps and the low crackle of torches.
Hana didn't see exactly how each jailer met their end, her mind instinctively recoiling from the full horror. But when the dust began to settle, the final, grim picture was clear.
Every single cult member lay dead. And scattered across the blood-soaked floor, separated from their bodies, were their heads.
The silence stretched, thick and heavy.
Hana didn't know the fate of the other prisoners. Some might have perished in the chaos, others might have succumbed to their earlier tortures.
As far as she could tell, amidst the carnage and the shadows, only two people remained conscious: herself, still bound and helpless against the wall, and the silent, masked executioner standing amidst the bodies.
Slowly, deliberately, the masked man turned.
The silver mask, shaped like a human face but expressionless, was fixed on her. But what unsettled her most were the eyes behind it, staring through the slits with an icy, unblinking gaze.
He began to walk towards her, his steps were quiet on the stone floor, navigating the grim landscape of headless corpses he had created.
Hana watched him approach, a fresh wave of terror washing over her, colder and deeper than before.
She had just witnessed unimaginable violence, inflicted by the very person now approaching her.
Was he here to save her, or was she simply the last victim left? Her mind couldn't process it.
She wanted to scream, to run, to disappear, but her body refused to obey. She was frozen, trapped by fear and exhaustion, her eyes locked on the advancing figure in black and silver.
He drew closer, his shadow falling over her.
The silver mask seemed to sway in her vision. The stench of blood, the sight of the carnage, the silent menace of the Beheader – it was too much.
Her already frayed consciousness finally snapped. Darkness rushed in, swallowing the horrific scene, and Hana lost consciousness.