The House of Spiders. A completely isolated space from the City, only accessible through doors that either showed themselves selectively, or required an immense amount of energy to open a gateway in order to access the area itself. It was vast, infinite, and sprawling to the point that you could easily get lost as soon as you let your guard down.

Within this section of the House of Spiders, the walls stretched endlessly, covered in white, perfectly square panels. Brutalist and blocky, the air was ideally temperate and humid, carrying the scent of blood and spreading it out over the entire, stagnant, sanitized area. The first thing that catches your eye were countless sculptures made from the human corpus, strung up and displayed an equal distance apart, and to a less keen observer, one would call it trashy, needlessly brutal and cruel, to mutilate sentient human beings in this way.

There was so, so much more to understand from each and every part of the human corpus. Only those who were fools would confront and understand each ‘artwork’ and their respective medium from such a present and tunnel visioned perspective.

Standing within an opened doorway, a nice distraction from the endless, precise square tiles in your view was an individual with their back turned to you. In her hand was a massive greatsword which looked more akin to an oversized cleaver which consisted of multiple thin metal panels, with white running along the spine of the blade and a bright yellow taking a majority of the flat, all the way to the edge of it. With gloved hands, she precisely continued to prepare an ingredient, that is, a screaming human male who was still somehow alive despite her reducing him to nothing but severed, cut up meat, nerves and bone.

She was outfitted in what looked to be armor inspired by an iron maiden, the entirety of which consisted of half white-half yellow metal panels, select golden highlights. Specifically, it took the form of a heavy-looking full-body suit ending in a long, metal dress with spikes protruding from the lower half and a golden spiked headband above her helmet. Chans hung from either side of the headband, as well as from thick white bands clinging to her elbows. The helmet itself had sharp golden eyes painted on and two white spikes on each side, with an overall knightly appearance and a clear sun motif.

Approaching a bit closer, you could hear her muffled voice, echoing out from within the armor which rattled with every single precise movement.

“…Fascia is hungry. So stay still, okay? To prepare a proper snack, the skin must be removed, and the spine severed. Your corpus will be a tasty little friend for me. So please stop wriggling.”

With a final slash, the man’s screams went quiet, but to the trained eye, she had only slashed his windpipe and vocal chords. His eyes, in fact, continued to scream endlessly as she began to finish her work.