The Leo’s Escape Chronicles: Part 4

"ACHOO!"

Leo let out a loud sneeze. The sound, a small and sudden echo, resonated in the overwhelming silence.

"Shhh!"

Taher, with the speed of a predator, put a hand over his mouth. His eyes, full of warning, quickly moved around.

"You must keep quiet, Leo. Although the cult figures seem human, they are not."

"I understand..."

Leo nodded, his mind still processing the information. The echo of the sneeze reverberated in his memory as they walked along the path, their steps muffled by the dust.

(This really seems like a cult.)

Leo remembered the moment they had entered, the surprise that had impacted him upon seeing the gigantic statue that stood before them, the epicenter of this somber pantheon.

(I never expected to see that kind of statue.)

The statue, imposing and mysterious, was made of polished black marble, representing Mireya. It was an androgynous figure, with features that suggested a delicate youth, barely twelve years old. Its gender seemed to be portrayed as masculine, with silver hair that cascaded over its shoulders and white eyes that seemed to shine with a light of their own, even in the darkness.

(But even though I try... Her attire... It contrasts too much with the impression I've gotten so far...)

Her attire was an asymmetrical black trench coat with details of leather buckles and straps, adorned with small silver symbols and strips of torn fabric. She wore tight pants of the same color, with more hanging chains and high combat boots. One of her hands was bandaged, completely covering an eye, while the other, also bandaged, was casually tucked into a pocket. It was a pose that denoted a somber and mysterious confidence.

(Also... she was surrounded by all kinds of things...)

Behind Mireya, a gigantic obsidian serpent was coiled, its scaly, dark body rising like a living monument. On Mireya's right shoulder, a small straw doll with a dark cape perched, its strands of thread contrasting with the marble. On the left shoulder, an amorphous mass of organic and metallic material glowed with veins of energy that pulsed beneath its surface, a living conglomerate of technology. And in front, at Mireya's feet, a small silver armor with a sword and shield in hand, releasing fire from its sword, guarded the place.

"Remember, you must keep quiet."

"...Yes."

It was only thanks to Taher's words that Leo finally emerged from his memories, returning to reality. Taher lowered his hand from Leo's mouth, his eyes still fixed on the corridor that stretched out before them.

"Welcome to the Pantheon. And from now on, silence is your best friend. We don't make a single sound."

"...."

Nodding with new determination, Leo and Taher put on the black robes that Taher had pulled from a hidden bag. The fabric was soft and light, and it blended with the darkness of the corridor.

"Let's go."

"Yes."

With their figures now disguised, they began to walk.

"Listen, Leo, the Pantheon is the most mysterious place in this house."

As they moved forward, Taher took the opportunity to explain, his voice a whisper that was lost in the vastness.

"This is where things like the statue we saw when we arrived, murals, and inscriptions appear. It's also the area where the cult resides inside the house."

"....."

In this way, they walked down an immense corridor. The faint violet light from the flameless torches projected onto the walls, illuminating an endless number of statues.

"This is...?"

"The statues I told you about."

It was like walking through a museum of horrors, with each figure carved from the same polished black marble as Mireya's statue.

"Gulp..."

The statues were aligned, facing each other along both sides of the corridor, their faces silent and their postures frozen in time.

"Concubine Section"

As they moved forward, an inscription carved into the wall caught Leo's attention. He read it in a low voice.

"Those, they're..."

A shiver ran down his spine. The next statues were of figures that were unsettlingly familiar to him: the four he had seen at the amusement park.

"...."

The first statue stood with a voluptuous and elegant figure. Her curves were sculpted with a seductive grace, and her pose was one of absolute confidence. A wide and possessive smile curved on her marble lips, revealing sharp fangs carved with precision. The statue was an ode to beauty and predation, a cold and exquisite duality. The inscription at her feet declared: "The first concubine, a possessive primordial vampire that rules over blood."

"Gulp...!"

A shiver ran through Leo's body as he looked away from the vampire's statue, his mind struggling to process the terror of the inscription.

"What?!"

However, upon turning to the other side of the corridor, his eyes landed on the next statue.

"I know her too..."

This was a woman with a sensual figure, her curves carved with a tempting grace. She held a smile that seemed genuinely innocent, but her eyes were closed, as if she were keeping a secret.

"What the...?!"

But the inscription at its base made Leo's shivers return, this time with a greater intensity: "Behind the mask of innocence, a perpetual obsession born of tragedy is hidden."

"....."

He continued walking, his heart beating hard when he saw the next statue, that of the girl with the cat mask. But in this figure, the mask did not cover her face; she held it in her hands, pressing it against her chest, with her head bowed. The pose conveyed a sense of fragility and hopelessness.

"..."

The inscription at the base was just as desolate: "A fragile, broken, and caged mind, capable of traveling anywhere."

"...This is..."

Finally, he reached the last of the four statues he recognized.

"...."

It was the expressionless maid, her empty eyes staring into nothingness, her posture rigid and subservient, but lacking all emotion. Its inscription was the most disturbing of all, revealing the true nature of the figure: "The strongest maid, with no final limit, but who does not hold her own will."

"I don't understand...?"

Leo continued to move forward, his mind racing from the revelations.

"And... How many statues are there...?"

Leo looked down the path, seeing many other statues in the corridor, countless figures he did not recognize, welcoming him to a world he could not fully comprehend.

"Stop wasting time! We have to keep going!"

At that moment, Taher hurried him along, the tension in his shoulders palpable as he ordered in a whisper.

"!!"

Hurrying, Leo and Taher walked at a quick but measured pace, their black robes swaying with their movement as they watched their surroundings.

"....."

"....."

The Pantheon's silence was oppressive, and with each step, the tension grew. They left the concubines' section, leaving the statues they had seen behind.

"...This is..."

"The mural section."

They entered a new corridor, one where statues were replaced by murals, painted directly onto the vast obsidian walls.

"Let's go."

"...."

Nodding, Leo and Taher advanced, seeing all kinds of images as they passed. The first showed a bloody red moon rising over the remains of a city in ruins. The shattered towers and buildings were covered in a dense darkness, as if an apocalyptic event had swept through them.

They also saw stranger images, like a multi-colored tornado that rose in a wasteland, its swirling winds mixing vibrant shades of pink, blue, and yellow. Meanwhile, from the earth, a gigantic, jet-black demonic hand emerged, its elongated fingers reaching for the sky. And a white star fell from the firmament, directly toward the hand.

"What the...?!"

However, the mural that chilled Leo's blood the most was the worn-out image of a heart of blood painted on the floor. But it wasn't just the image; it was what was beneath it.

Below the heart, written in a streak of dried blood, the words were repeated over and over again, until the wall was completely filled with them: "you forgot it, you forgot it, you forgot it, you forgot it, you, forgot it, you forgot it, you forgot it, you forgot it, you forgot it, you forgot it, you forgot it, you forgot it, you forgot it, you, forgot it, you forgot it, you forgot it, you forgot it, you forgot it, you forgot it."

"........"

"Ignore them, Leo... Just... Ignore them..."

In that way, they continued passing by more similar murals, abstract images that seemed taken from a nightmare, each one more enigmatic than the last.

The air grew heavier as Leo and Taher walked. The mural corridor ended and the path opened into a circular exhibition hall, smaller and more personal. On the black marble walls, framed with aged gold, there were multiple paintings. The paintings depicted figures and beings that Leo had not seen before.

"Is that?!"

However, two of them immediately caught his attention.

"That's her... the one from that moment."

The first was a vision that had left him with more questions than answers. Within a frame, a female figure titled as Dea-Machina stood on a large canvas, representing the image he saw at that moment. She was a figure of ethereal beauty, dressed in a fluffy black and white dress. Intricately etched circuits on the canvas emitted a soft glow. Her gloves and boots of polished bronze were represented in great detail. Her silver hair, with bronze highlights, and her eyes, one a pure white and the other a brilliant copper, were painted with an unnerving realism. The mechanical bronze wings on her back were rendered with engineering precision, each gear and joint motionless, but with a sense of potential movement that was as beautiful as it was terrifying.

"And this is... after all... Melioris."

Beside it, the painting of Melioris hung in the frame. The character in the painting was the teenager who had surprised him at the park, with a playful smile painted on her lips. The artist had captured the duality of her long hair, a cascade of brilliant silver with streaks of a vibrant green. Her eyes, one a pure white and the other a brilliant gold, were painted with a precision that made them seem to stare at him from the canvas. The black gothic dress, elaborate and elegant, flowed through the canvas, a portrait of her style and personality.

"But... these don't seem to be the only ones..."

Throughout the hall, there were more paintings, images of beings and figures that Leo did not recognize. Each of them seemed to tell a story of power, of tragedy, or of an incomprehensible horror.

"Who are they...?"

Leo continued to move forward, his eyes scanning the walls, moving from painting to painting. He reached another pair that caught his attention. On the frame to the left, a girl with long silver hair looked straight ahead. On her head, a delicate tiara with blue gems glowed, its cold light contrasting with the melancholy in her eyes. One of her eyes was a milky white, the other a deep ocean blue, a hypnotic mix of colors. She wore a dress that looked like armor, made of a mix of black and white, with intricate silver and blue details that gave it the appearance of scales or metal plates. The design was both elegant and formidable, a suit of gala armor.

"Sirael...?"

As Leo pronounced the name, he shifted his gaze to the painting on the right, in which another woman stood. She had strands of golden hair that shone like the sun, one eye a pure white and the other a warm amber color. Her attire was a loose, flowing tunic, a mix of black and white fabric, with vivid red details that fell like rivers of dried blood. Her posture was relaxed with a timid expression.

"...Mirabelis."

"Do you know them?"

Upon seeing Leo motionless, carefully observing the paintings, Taher stopped and asked in a whisper.

"Not really. What are these paintings?"

"No idea. Each one of them appeared suddenly, like everything else you've seen in this Pantheon. But what I do know is that each of them is revered in a different way."

After saying those words, Taher pointed to the nearby image of Dea-Machina.

"The last time I was here, this painting didn't exist. It's a manifestation of her influence."

"Her influence?"

"That's right."

Taher nodded, his gaze turning somber.

"It's the influence of that being who created this accursed house. However, from what I've observed, she doesn't seem to be doing it consciously."

"What?!"

Suddenly, Taher raised a finger and put it to his lips, signaling to Leo to be silent.

(Those are them.)

Leo understood instantly. In the distance, two figures were approaching through the immense corridor. Their silhouettes, shrouded in darkness, moved with an almost ceremonial slowness.

"...."

"...."

Leo and Taher remained motionless, their bodies rigid under the black robes, mimicking the shadows. The tension became almost unbearable as the figures passed by them without looking, their silent steps echoing.

"Let's take advantage of this."

When they were far enough away, Taher lowered his hand and whispered.

"...."

Leo nodded, his heart beating hard. The tension of the scene, the proximity of danger, was further proof that in this place, silence was the most powerful weapon.

With a gesture, Taher moved and both of them followed cautiously. They took the path that the figures had just taken, entering the next area of the Pantheon. The surroundings changed again.

"...."

"...."

The air grew colder, and the smell of dust and incense became denser. The place was no longer a simple corridor, but a vast hall that served as a sacred headquarters.

The scene showed obsidian pillars that rose to a ceiling lost in the darkness, decorated with black silk banners that displayed a symbol of a bleeding eight-pointed star. Between the pillars, altars of polished marble glowed with a faint violet light, and sacrifices were placed on them.

The place was filled with figures, mostly female, who moved with a lethal grace. Their movements were synchronized, almost choreographed, each step a display of military discipline. They all wore the same unsettling uniform: a sleek and functional suit of shiny black latex that fit their bodies perfectly, highlighting their athletic figures. On top, they wore a tactical vest with multiple pockets and straps, which contrasted sharply with the sensuality of the latex. Their feet were covered by a pair of hard-soled combat boots, which allowed them to move in complete silence.

Some of the figures were cleaning the weapons displayed on the walls, while others knelt at the altars, murmuring silent prayers. The mixture of devotion and military preparation was palpable.

"...."

"...."

Leo and Taher, hidden in the shadows and blending in with the place thanks to their robes, watched the figures pass by. The air was filled with an oppressive sense of organization and purpose.

"...."

"What?!"

Leo and Taher moved with the caution of two shadows. They had passed through the sacred headquarters, the silence only broken by the rustling of their robes, until Leo stopped abruptly.

In an open area of the hall, a group of figures, mostly female, had gathered. They were all focused, discussing seriously.

(Why?)

Leo couldn't help but wonder upon seeing how their attention was focused on an image they had placed on a black wooden easel. It was the photo of a boy. A young man with clean features and a smile that seemed oblivious to the nightmare surrounding him. But the photo was not intact. It was full of knives, each one plunged in with methodical precision. Around the frame, there were messages written in white chalk: "alive or dead?".

"............"

The room was a monument to an obsession. Punching bags, made of a dark, leather-like material, hung from the ceiling. On each one of them, the same photo of the boy had been attached. The surfaces of the bags were torn and ripped, full of the marks of fists and kicks. Beyond, a rag doll figure, an effigy of the boy, was tied to a chair, surrounded by pins and needles, each one embedded in a vital point. In a corner, a map of the house was painted on the floor, with the boy's face marked in every room and every corridor, connected by a red line that was lost in a question mark.

(What could this guy have done?)

Upon seeing the level of hatred that was professed towards the young man in the image, a shiver ran down Leo's spine. The boy didn't seem evil, but the cult hated him with a ferocity he had not seen before. It was a personal and obsessive hatred.

(I feel sorry for that guy, Ken.)

However, Leo's pity didn't last long. Taher gave him a light pat on the shoulder, a signal to continue.

"..."

"..."

The silence between them was the only sound that mattered. They moved stealthily, like ghosts, leaving the hall of obsession behind.

(It's almost dawn.)

Leo looked at his watch. The digital display, with a faint glow, read 3:24 a.m. In just a few hours, his life had completely changed.