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Suddenly, the entire church shook violently, and a deep rumbling sound echoed from beneath the ground, as if the earth itself was groaning. The tremors sent clouds of dust and debris swirling through the air, filling it with a stale odor. Erin felt a strong shiver run through her, and the sight before her filled her with terror.
However, the townspeople showed no signs of fear; instead, they appeared elated by this bizarre phenomenon. Their faces were lit up with ecstatic smiles, their eyes sparkling with excitement and anticipation. This strange reaction only deepened Erin's sense of dread and unease.
"What is happening?" Erin screamed, her voice laced with panic and confusion.
Mark stared intently at the platform, his expression filled with deep vigilance and uncertainty. Suddenly, he noticed Little Rudy convulsing violently, as if he were nearing the end of his life. Little Rudy's body shook uncontrollably, blood pouring from his neck, his face growing paler and his gaze more vacant.
The shaking in the church gradually subsided, but the low rumble continued to resonate beneath the ground. The townspeople's ecstasy reached a fever pitch; their shouts were filled with fervor and worship, as if this moment was the sacred occasion they had long awaited.
Raphael stood coldly beside Little Rudy, his dagger glinting ominously in the light. Little Rudy's convulsions intensified, as if his life force was rapidly fading away. Erin watched this scene unfold, her heart aching; she could not comprehend what was happening nor accept that this innocent child was enduring such agony.
Diego Montoro stood on the platform, a frenzied smile on his face, his eyes gleaming with ecstatic light. His hands were still stained with Little Rudy's blood, which formed strange patterns on his face, symbolizing some ancient power.
Suddenly, the wound on Little Rudy's neck began to writhe as if something was trying to crawl out from within. Erin's eyes widened in horror. She saw Little Rudy's face contorted in pain, yet that eerie smile lingered at the corners of his mouth, making the scene all the more terrifying.
As the wound continued to squirm, Erin could clearly see the skin around it undulating as if something foreign was struggling inside. Blood gushed from the wound, mingling with a strange transparent liquid that emitted a nauseating odor. Erin felt her stomach churn, nearly unable to suppress a scream.
Then, slowly but surely, a Wooden Cicada's head emerged from Little Rudy's neck. Its wooden body was smeared with blood and flesh remnants, its wings sticky with gore. Its compound eyes glimmered in the sunlight as if surveying this unfamiliar world. Erin found herself unable to look away, completely captivated by this grotesque sight.
Once its head was fully out, the Wooden Cicada began to wriggle forcefully, trying to extract its body from Little Rudy's wound. Each movement caused the wound to tear wider open, blood continuously flowing out and staining his chest red. Little Rudy's body convulsed violently; the smile on his face grew increasingly stiff and unnatural as if he had lost all sensation.
Erin felt an intense wave of nausea wash over her but forced herself to keep watching. The Wooden Cicada gradually crawled out from Little Rudy's neck; its wooden wings fluttered gently, trailing bits of flesh behind it. The wings were smeared with blood and reeked of a strong metallic scent.
The Wooden Cicada crawled near Little Rudy's neck, as if adapting to this strange environment. With each movement, Little Rudy's wound reopened, blood gushing forth like a spring. His body twitched involuntarily, the smile on his face remaining eerie and rigid.
The townspeople witnessed this scene and erupted into even more frenzied shouts. Their voices were filled with fervor and adoration, as if the appearance of the Wooden Cicada was a sacred symbol.
After crawling for a while, the Wooden Cicada suddenly leaped into the air. Its wings shimmered in the sunlight, seemingly carrying some mysterious glow. Erin watched the Wooden Cicada dance in the sky, feeling a surge of intense fear and unease.
As the first Wooden Cicada emerged, Little Rudy's neck began to writhe uncontrollably, as if more Wooden Cicadas were eager to escape from beneath his skin. His wound grew larger, the writhing motion tearing at his flesh, blood and pus mingling as they flowed down his neck, staining his pale chest.
The wound opened into a horrifying gash, and dozens of Wooden Cicadas crawled out from his neck. These creatures were covered in thick blood, their compound eyes glimmering in the dim light as if telling some ancient and bizarre tale. They moved beneath Little Rudy's skin, each wriggle accompanied by the sound of flesh tearing, sending chills down one's spine.
During their emergence, the Wooden Cicadas incessantly gnawed at Little Rudy's neck flesh. Their mouthparts pierced through muscle, chewing on blood and meat, producing faint yet unsettling sounds.
As more and more Wooden Cicadas flew out from Little Rudy's neck, it stretched wider and wider, blood and fluid continuously gushing from the wound. Each Wooden Cicada that emerged carried a heavy stench of blood, their wings sticky with chunks of flesh, as if they were demons crawling out from the depths of hell.
Raphael stood coldly to one side, a glint of satisfaction flickering in his eyes. He watched everything unfold as if witnessing the embodiment of pain on Little Rudy's body, filled with a twisted sense of pleasure. The corners of his mouth curled slightly upward, revealing a cruel and satisfied smile.
Suddenly, Raphael raised the dagger in his hand; the blade glinted as he moved swiftly and decisively. He swung hard, aiming for Little Rudy's fragile neck. The dagger sliced through the air with a sharp sound before plunging into Little Rudy's skin and bone.
With a dull thud, Little Rudy's head was completely severed and fell to the ground with a heavy impact. His eyes remained wide open, that eerie smile still plastered on his face as if conveying some incomprehensible pain and happiness.
Little Rudy's body lay still on the table, the wound on his neck continuing to writhe as more Wooden Cicadas crawled out from that enormous opening. After crawling for a while, they all took flight into the air, their wings shimmering in the sunlight as if performing some bizarre ritual.
The townspeople saw this spectacle and erupted into even more frenzied shouts. Their voices brimmed with fervor and worship, as if this moment was the sacred occasion they had long awaited. The entire interior of the church was filled with an atmosphere of excitement and frenzy, resembling an impending feast.
Raphael coldly observed everything, a glint of icy light flickering in his eyes. He whispered something, and the townspeople's shouts reached a crescendo, their hands raised high, their eyes shining with fervor.
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