Mortis covered his eyes sleepily.
He had fallen asleep in his bed last night, dreading going to school the next day, but something felt strange now. His bed was cold—too cold—and uncomfortable.
Where were his blankets?
Before he could think any further, a loud shout suddenly filled the air, making him jump to his feet.
"HAIL THE BLOOD GOD! THE BLOOD GOD HAS ARRIVED!"
Mortis froze.
He wasn't in his room anymore.
He was standing on a white marble altar, shaped in a perfect circle, and all around him stood people in red robes, chanting in unison—
"THE BLOOD GOD HAS ARRIVED!"
"HAIL THE BLOOD GOD!"
"HAIL THE BLOOD GOD!"
Mortis blinked, trying to make sense of it.
A dream…?
The cold stone beneath his feet felt harsh against his heels, and the light breeze around him made him feel oddly naked.
No—
he was actually naked.
Weak and vulnerable.
A blue screen appeared in front of him, glowing softly, and white text formed across it:
[Your people bow down to you. Do you want to accept their sacrifice?]
One man stepped away from the crowd and walked closer to the altar. His eyes were hidden beneath the hood of his blood-red robes, but his mouth showed a wide, almost relieved smile.
"You are here to liberate us… my Lord?"
Mortis smiled nervously, his mind racing as he looked around at the sea of people, all shouting—
"HAIL THE BLOOD GOD! HAIL THE BLOOD GOD!"
He looked at the man, then back at the screen in front of him.
He gulped.
The voices tore into him—into his skin, his ears—as if they were devouring him. He wanted to go home.
He wanted to be clothed again.
His heart pounded.
This has to be a dream… right?
"Yes… I accept their sacrifice."
For a brief moment, everything went still.
And then—
there was an explosion of blood.
The chanting stopped.
All of them were dead.