Chapter 54 White Hole Prison (31)

Chapter 54: White Hole Prison (Thirty-One)

The Sanctuary was not the usual empty auditorium of daytime, nor any place they had previously set foot in. It was a vast, cavernous circular space located on the topmost floor of the prison's main building.

This place was less a chapel than a circular theater designed for sacrifice.

There were no windows on any side, and even the walls were composed of a strange, dark red substance that seemed to absorb light.

Above the dome, there were no lights. Instead, a massive, inverted eye emblem took their place. From its pupil, an eerie, ghost-fire-like glow emanated, casting everything below in a deathly, pallid light.

Thousands of prisoners, as if manipulated by invisible strings, sat cross-legged on the ground in unnerving unison.

Their heads were held high, faces bearing a fanatical, hollow piety, all their gazes fixed on the central podium at the very heart of the theater.

The girl and the tall, thin man were mixed within the crowd. Watching the tsunami of silent fanaticism surrounding them, they felt as if an invisible hand had tightly gripped their hearts, making breath nearly impossible.

Upon the high platform, the Warden stood dressed in a pure white, priestly robe. With a gentle smile, he spread his arms wide, like a savior embracing humanity.

Behind him, 902-3 stood like the most loyal guardian, hands hanging respectfully at his sides, his expression solemn, his eyes shining with the ecstasy of one about to witness a miracle.

"My dear children."

The Warden's voice, gentle, kind, and filled with a hypnotic power, echoed throughout the great hall.

"For so long, you have borne the burden of sin, walking in darkness. You have been abandoned by the world, tormented by self-doubt. Your hearts have long been corrupted by the impurity called 'evil'."

"But today," his voice suddenly rose, carrying a note of firmness, "this very night! Divine Grace shall descend! A complete and unprecedented 'Sanctification' will cleanse each and every one of your souls!"

"You will shed all painful memories here, cast aside the very roots of all sin! You will be reborn! To become pure, perfect, wholly new 'selves'!"

"Praise the Prison!"

"Praise the Sanctification!"

The atmosphere below ignited like kindling. All the prisoners erupted in a tsunami-like, unified roar. They raised their hands high, with frenzied expressions, as if about to receive supreme grace.

The girl watched this mad scene, her blood running cold. She knew the coming ritual was not rebirth, but utter "death."

The Warden surveyed the scene, satisfied. He slowly raised a hand, as if to announce the start of the ceremony.

Just then—

"Wait—!"

A clear yet trembling female voice abruptly cut through the fanatical din.

It was the girl!

Under the tall, thin man's horrified gaze, as if summoning every ounce of her courage, she suddenly stood up from the crowd and burst from the ranks!

Several guards immediately stepped forward, ready to seize this "heretic" at any moment.

"Warden!" The girl ignored the approaching guards. She just stared fixedly at the kindly middle-aged man on the high platform, her hands trembling as she pulled out the yellowed family photo and the old newspaper from within her clothes, then held them high!

"Look at this! Mr. Harold Fiman! Please, look at this!" She screamed with all her strength, tears welling up uncontrollably and instantly blurring her sight.

"Remember your wife! Remember your son! You are not a monster! You once... you used to be a good man who wanted to give everyone a chance!"

That family photo, capturing all the happy moments of a family, and that article commemorating his ideals and glory, were thus held high by a fragile girl. Like a sword forged from memory and goodwill—fragile yet incredibly sharp—it cut through the crowd, straight into the eyes of the man on the high platform.

The entire theater instantly fell into an eerie, tomblike silence. Even the fanatical prisoners seemed to have been put on pause, mechanically turning their heads to stare at this sudden intruder with hollow eyes.

On the high platform, the Warden's benevolent smile froze for the first time.

His gaze fell upon the photo. In those eyes, always filled with gentleness and pity, there was not a flicker of emotion. Only the profound, omniscient sorrow deep within seemed to grow heavier. He looked at the girl and slowly, in a tone almost pitying, said:

"Poor child, you cannot understand. They... have long since attained eternal 'purity' in the ideal kingdom I created."

"Soon, you will too."

He seemed to have exhausted his last shred of patience, lightly raising a hand to give the guards a final order: "Bring her up. As the first offering to receive the grace of 'Sanctification.' It is her honor."

It was over.

The light died in the girl's eyes. Her last hope shattered utterly with those icy words. She weakly lowered her hands, allowing the two guards to grab her arms, one on each side, and roughly drag her towards the high platform.

However, just as the guards were dragging her, about to step onto the first stair—

A pitch-black, specter-like figure flashed out from the deepest shadows at the side rear of the theater without warning!

He did not charge at the two guards. Instead, he appeared directly on the high platform, right behind the Warden's figure.

"It's you." On the high platform, the Warden looked at Shi Wu, his face showing no surprise, only a kind of "as expected" understanding. He didn't even turn his head, as if he had long sensed his presence.

"It's me."

Shi Wu stepped out from the shadows one step at a time. His tattered prison uniform looked particularly glaring under the pallid light.

He ignored the surrounding guards, and he ignored 902-3's face, twisted with anger.

His gaze remained calmly fixed on the Warden.

The two guards dragging the girl also stopped their actions due to this sudden turn of events, standing blankly, awaiting new orders. The girl, however, felt hope rekindle within her.

Below, the tall, thin man stared blankly at the figure above.

"Photos and newspapers cannot wake someone who is pretending to sleep." Shi Wu's voice was soft, yet it spread with exceptional clarity throughout the dead-silent theater. "Because you have long since betrayed your past self, betrayed Harold Fiman."

"You are right, child," the Warden slowly turned to face him, smiling. "The me of the past was too weak, too naive. The me of now has grasped the true truth, one capable of purifying everything."

"Truth?" Shi Wu let out a scornful snort, his mockery unconcealed. "Something built upon lies and slaughter dares to be called truth?"

"This is not a lie," the Warden's expression remained compassionate. "This is a necessary sacrifice. I am merely helping them shed those useless 'impurities' that only bring pain. Like memories, like emotions, like... the self."

"That sounds wonderful." Shi Wu slowly walked closer to him. "But some things cannot be shed. They are carved into the bone. You may wish to forget, but you cannot."

As he spoke, he slowly came to a stop before the Warden, and gradually opened his left hand.

Resting quietly in his palm was not a photo or a keepsake, but something wrapped in a pure white material.

Shi Wu unwrapped the material layer by layer.

Exposed to the air was a long-dried, twisted, and deformed—

Human finger bone.