Fate/Eva Frankenstein

"In the deepest darkness, the brightest lights can emerge."

--???

__________________________________________

Chapter 8: The Daughter and the Monster

Five years ago

Frankenstein Mansion, Switzerland

Pov. Third person.

"And what's this for?"

"So you don't blow your eyebrows out."

Eva blinked.

Lea simply adjusted her apron as she placed a glass jar on the table. Emma, ​​from the back of the kitchen, stifled a giggle.

"Lea, that's no way to explain things..."

"It's the most direct."

Eva eyed the jar suspiciously.

Inside was a sky-blue liquid that sparked slightly, as if it contained suspended electricity.

"Is this... edible?"

"No," they both answered simultaneously.

"It's to stabilize elemental reactions," Emma explained, while expertly kneading bread. "If you swallow it, you probably won't die... but you won't ever have eyebrows again, either."

Eva swallowed.

"Understood."

The kitchen smelled of freshly baked bread, rosemary, and damp wood. Outside, the rain pounded steadily against the roof.

In the fireplace, a small flame flickered, turning the shadows a soft orange.

Lea mixed ingredients in a mortar while Emma worked with the dough.

Eva simply watched, standing, feeling out of place.

"Do you want to do something?" Emma asked without looking up.

"Can I?" Eva asked doubtfully.

"Sure," Lea said, spoon in hand. "You can whisk this. Or clean. Or watch. Although the latter is a bit lazy."

Eva raised an eyebrow. She still didn't understand if this way of speaking was a provocation or her version of "affection." Still, she smiled. Barely.

"Give me that."

She took the bowl from Lea and began to mix vigorously. The mixture emitted slight electrical clicks.

"Not too hard, or..." Lea began, but was interrupted by a small pop.

A blue spark leaped from the bowl and burned Eva's fingers.

"...it'll explode," Emma finished with a sigh.

Eva shook her hand, snorting. Still, she let out a stifled laugh.

"Is this training too?"

"Depends," Lea replied, tilting her head in a technical gesture. "If you do it wrong, it hurts. So yeah, a little."

Emma shook her head in amusement as she put the bread tray in the oven.

"And if I do it right?"

"You're not going to destroy the kitchen," Lea replied, crossing her arms. "But I wasn't worried. With your ability to learn everything quickly, this shouldn't be a big problem for you."

Eva looked at her. Then she smiled wryly.

"That's the closest thing to praise you've given me in days."

"I'm in a good mood today."

"Why?"

"Emma made garlic bread this morning, my favorite."

Emma, ​​from the oven, raised a finger in silent victory.

Eva let out a small laugh. Not a burst of joy, but something smaller. More intimate. A new sound.

One that came from a place that was only just beginning to remember how to laugh.

And for a moment—just a moment—the world was simple.

Bread in the oven.

Soft rain.

Two people by her side.

And a fleeting feeling of home.

Then Eva's smile dimmed. She lowered her gaze slightly, as if suddenly remembering the weight she was carrying.

She opened her mouth, hesitated for a moment, and finally blurted out the question that had been burning in her throat since the day she returned to that place.

"Lea, Emma... am I a monster?"

The silence that fell afterward was absolute.

Heavy.

Cold.

Like a muffled bell silencing everything else.

The spoons and hands stopped moving.

The steam from the tea seemed to linger in the air. Even the wind blowing through the window seemed to respect that moment.

Emma parted her lips but said nothing.

Lea, standing by the stove, slowly turned her head toward her.

Their gazes met.

Eyes that didn't blink.

Eyes that had seen too much.

And for an eternal second... no one dared to answer.

"It depends," Lea said slowly. Her work, abandoned for the moment, "Eva... what is a monster to you?"

Eva opened her mouth to answer... but in the end, nothing came out. A clear glimmer of doubt filled her eyes.

"A monster... is... like me?"

"That's a question, not an answer," Lea said with mild severity. "I didn't ask you if a monster is like you, but: what is a monster to you, Eva?"

"I..." Eva began, lowering her gaze. Her voice was barely a thread. "A monster... is something that causes harm. Something that shouldn't exist. Something that others fear... or reject..."

She stopped. She tried to gather her thoughts. But she couldn't.

"Someone who doesn't feel. Or who feels too much." Someone... who destroys things. Who destroys others. Or themselves.

Her hands slowly closed on her knees.

"I hurt people. I screamed. I hit. I killed. I let myself be carried away by what was inside. I didn't think about anyone. Only myself. Only what I wanted."

Lea watched her, her expression neutral, but her eyes shone with attention.

"So..." she said softly, "that means a monster is someone who has done harm?"

"Yes," Eva whispered.

"Even if he regrets it?"

Silence.

Eva gritted her teeth. Her fingers trembled.

"I don't know."

"Even if he didn't know any other way?"

Eva took a deep breath. She didn't respond.

Lea leaned a little closer, her voice still calm. Almost as if reciting a lesson she knew well.

"And what about the humans who cause harm every day? Who kill. Who betray. Who lie. Are they monsters too?"

Eva slowly looked up. Confused.

"It's not the same..."

"Why not?"

"Because... I'm not human," she said finally. Her words came out like a cut. A confession. Or a sentence.

And in that instant, Emma spoke. Her voice was soft, almost a whisper.

"And yet... you cry."

Eva turned to her.

Emma held her gaze, without fear, without judgment.

"You're hurt by what you did. You're hurt by what you couldn't do. You're wondering if you deserve to be here anymore. If you're capable of more than just harming others. If you can still be... loved by others."

Her voice cracked as she said that last word.

"Does that sound like something a monster should have to you?"

Eva couldn't answer. Her throat closed.

Then Emma bowed her head slightly and added,

"And what about us, little Eva?" she said, pointing at herself and Lea. "We are homunculi. Artificial life forms created through the miracle of alchemy."

She paused, her voice soft but firm.

"By many human standards... we both qualify as monsters."

"That's not...!"

Eva snapped her mouth shut. Her eyes opened with sudden awareness.

Emma returned her look, meaningful and tender. She smiled.

A small smile. Sad. But full of acceptance.

Eva wanted to say something, but no words came out of her mouth. Tears fell silently down her cheeks, warm and sincere.

Then, a hand gently rested on her face.

She looked, and it was Lea. She had a slight, serene, almost maternal smile.

"The traumas Master Victor left you... sadly, it seems they will take a long time to heal," she said with gentle sorrow, without drama, but with sincerity. "But I'm sure that, to this question... you'll soon have a clear answer."

She paused briefly, and then added, returning to her usual tone:

"For now, let's concentrate on cooking. I'm starving, okay? Otherwise, I'll resort to cannibalism."

Lea glanced briefly at Emma.

Emma felt a chill run down her spine at the intensity of the gaze. She knew it was a joke. She knew it... right?

Emma coughed and subtly took a step away from Lea.

Eva giggled through her tears and wiped them away with the back of her hand. Her smile was small, broken... but real.

"But... is it normal to cook using alchemy?" she asked, her voice still trembling.

"Alchemy is an art, just like cooking," Emma said with unexpected solemnity. "Besides, I always wanted to try it, but Master Victor never let me. Now that he's gone... hehehe."

Eva looked at her, bewildered. It was an expression she'd never seen on Emma's face before.

She wasn't sure whether to be intrigued... or worried.

And so it continued another day at Frankenstein Mansion.

__________________________________________

Five years later.

I think I understand now, Lea... Eva thought, looking at the being in front of her.

The air smelled of dampness, rusted iron, and something else... rotten.

Eva took slow steps, her boots echoing against the cracked stone of the cavern. Each step was an echo that never quite returned. Something in this place devoured sound.

And then, she saw it better.

Or rather... she sensed it first.

Not because he was hiding. Quite the opposite. He was there, in plain sight, sitting among the rubble, as if the cave had given birth to him and he had taken root there.

A bare torso, as wide as a tombstone; arms like the dry, twisted branches of an old tree, but full of suppressed strength. The skin hung in pale, grotesque folds, riddled with scars that told no story, only warnings.

The eyes, open… but dull.

It didn't breathe. It didn't blink. It just stood there, like a corpse that refused to die completely.

And yet… Eve felt it looking at her. That it had felt her since she set foot in the cave entrance.

"Frankenstein."

He wasn't her father. He wasn't her creator.

Not even her brother.

He wasn't like her.

He was… something else.

Eve wanted to rationalize it, to find form, meaning… humanity. But the only thing that welled up in her chest was a primitive instinct: to flee.

This… this is a monster.

Her lips trembled. A cold sweat ran down the back of his neck. His tight throat wouldn't let saliva pass.

And at that instant, as if responding to his judgment, the creature moved.

First, barely a tremor in the fingers of one hand. Then, the creaking of bones adjusting like forgotten machinery.

His eyes focused on her, unblinking.

And then, his chest expanded… and he screamed:

—VIIIICTOOOORRRRRR!!!

The voice wasn't just a scream. It was a visceral earthquake.

The walls shook.

Icicle stones fell like spears from the ceiling.

Outside, birds fled the forest. Vermin hid in their burrows. Even the wind seemed to change direction.

Eva took a step back, instinctively.

And for the first time in a long time, she felt that her own inner cry—the one she had let out so many times, alone in the mansion, calling for Victor, hating him, loving him, wanting answers—was barely the bark of a puppy, next to the roar of a true beast.

"Frankenstein" launched itself without warning.

It didn't roar. It didn't announce its intention.

It just leaped like a force of nature.

Each of his footsteps shook the ground, leaving deep cracks in the stone.

His muscles seemed to tense like cables, and when he reached her, he raised his fist… and brought it down with terrifying violence.

He seemed to want to finish her off the same way he finished Benedict.

"W-so fast…!" Eva thought, her eyes wide.

Her body responded before her mind could.

Electricity wrapped around her like a protective blanket, sparking from her back, and she barely managed to propel herself to the side.

BOOM.

The monster's fist fell like a meteor.

The ground where Eva had been standing was pulverized. Stone turned to dust and rocks flung in all directions in a single instant.

But she didn't have time to observe further.

There was no respite. No respite.

The arm she hadn't yet used was already on its way, crossing the air with a low swish. A sweeping arc, as if trying to erase her from the world.

Eva shot backward. A shock of electricity released from her legs, amplifying her leap. She felt the air being cut by the attacks. There was no technique. Only fury. Only strength.

"He's trying to kill me... he doesn't even question who I am!"

And somewhere in the back of her mind... a colder voice added:

"Or maybe he knows. And that's why he's doing it."

Eva tried to compose herself. Her breathing was ragged, her heart pounded in her chest... but she couldn't allow fear to take control.

She tightened her grip on the handle of Bridal Chest. Electricity coursed through her body like a wave of suppressed fury.

"Come on...!" she told herself, and lunged forward.

"Frankenstein" spun, raising his fist again. Another blow descended, like an inescapable judgment.

Eva dodged.

This time she didn't jump.

He ducked and slid across the floor like lightning, barely grazing the rough cave floor.

He felt the monster's knuckles graze his hair, tearing out a few strands.

Too close.

With a twist of her body, propelled by inertia, she raised her weapon with both hands and screamed, channeling all her strength, all her anger, into that blow.

CLANK—

Bridal Chest struck the creature directly in the abdomen.

And…

Nothing.

Not a moan.

Not a grimace.

Not a damn mark.

Eva's heart sank.

"No…!" she thought, with a mixture of astonishment and terror. "As if I hadn't hit anything…!"

And then, a large hand closed on the mace.

With a single action, "Frankenstein" lifted her off the ground, lifting Eva as if she weighed no more than a dirty rag.

"No… no…!" She tugged, kicked in the air, desperately trying to free Bridal Chest. "Let her go, let her go!"

But she couldn't.

The grip was absolute. An anchor impossible to break.

Then...

Crack.

—AAAAHHHHH!!!

A piercing scream escaped her throat as the monster's other hand closed over her hands, still firmly gripped on the weapon.

She felt the pressure. The crushing.

And then, the internal burst of something giving way.

First one finger, then another... and then the rest.

A wet, cracking sound mingled with her scream.

Her bones.

Her fingers.

Her hands.

Shattered into pieces.

The world blurred with pain.

—VICTOORR!!!

The roar shook the cave with brutal force.

Eve barely had time to react when the monster, in a fit of rage, lifted her up like a rag doll.

The beast swung its arm, swinging her through the air with inhuman violence, then hurled her mercilessly.

CRASH!

Eva's body impacted against one of the cave's rock walls.

The echo of the blow resounded like a death drum.

"Ack!" She spat blood instantly, the warm liquid staining her chin and the earth beneath her.

Her ribs ached. Her back burned. Her entire body throbbed with a pounding pain.

She fell to the ground with a dull thud. Inert.

The metal of the Bridal Chest clinked beside her.

Silence.

Her vision shook. Her breathing was a string of broken gasps.

"Up… up…"

Her thought was more of a plea than a command.

"Up. Get up. Not now… not like this…"

Her arms shook as she tried to push off the ground. Her body screamed to give up, but she… couldn't.

Not now. She was too close. She was about to finish off that bastard and take the girls back to Chamonix.

Then a shadow fell over her.

"No… not again".

Eve looked up with an effort… and saw it.

The creature's foot, enormous, violent, already bearing down on her, intent on crushing her like an insect.

"Gh…!"

With a strangled cry and a will born of pure instinct, she rolled to the side,

ignoring the searing pain in her arms, in her side, in every broken fiber of her body.

BOOOM!

The ground where she'd been standing was pulverized.

Rocks and dirt leaped up like splashes from a solid ocean.

But Eve had survived. Again.

She harnessed the momentum, twisting and using it as leverage to pull herself up.

She stood.

Staggering. Vulnerable.

Her arms hung uselessly, like dead weight at her sides, swollen, broken, burning with every heartbeat.

She panted like a wounded beast.

Her breathing was harsh and uneven.

Her chest was burning.

Her vision was a blurry mosaic of light, shadow, and blood.

But she was still standing.

She kept breathing.

Barely.

I'm alive.

I'm alive.

I'm alive.

The thought repeated itself frantically in her mind, a kind of desperate mantra.

But for how much longer?

__________________________________________

Pov. Eva.

I didn't know what to do. Any plan I had in mind disappeared the moment he broke my arms.

Now, I just...

I can't fight.

I insisted on dodging.

It hurts just to breathe.

At that point...what can I do?

He completely surpasses me in strength and durability. Even in speed.

The boost I received before is already fading, and now...

I...am going to die.

So close to saving the girls I came for...because of this thing?

I really have nothing else left?

Her mind went wild as she searched for some way to change the situation when...she noticed something strange.

Why am I still standing, she wondered doubtfully. By now she should already be on the ground.

But why...

Confused, she looked up...and then I saw it.

The monster stopped.

For the first time since this brief hell began, it didn't move.

Its massive shoulders rose and fell with its breath, but it didn't take another step.

It didn't growl.

It didn't attack.

It didn't scream.

It just looked at me.

And I... looked at it too.

I felt my pulse in my temples. In my ears. In my broken bones.

My whole body trembled, and yet I lifted my head.

My eyes met its.

Empty.

Black.

Painful.

I saw rage. So much of it.

But also something else.

Something broken.

A reflection.

My eyes swerved.

Not out of fear.

But because I saw her.

Bridal Chest.

My weapon…

My hope…

Trapped.

Locked in her fist like a toy.

So close… and yet so far away.

My arms dangled uselessly.

My fingers barely moved.

If only I could reach her…

But no.

I looked down at my arms and felt the muscles, tendons, and bones scream at the thought.

I gritted my teeth.

Bad idea. Pain sliced ​​through my jaw like blades.

Then, I heard it. One word. Just one, from his mouth.

But it wasn't like before.

It wasn't a roar that shook the cave.

It wasn't the fury of a beast.

It was...

"Victor..."

My heart stopped.

Not from fear this time.

But from...surprise.

Was that...sadness?

Longing?

The voice was soft.

Hollow.

Almost...human.

And the feeling in it...felt familiar. So familiar.

My throat closed.

I didn't know whether to take a step back or forward.

I didn't know whether to keep fighting or ask.

I didn't know if...if I should understand.

But I knew.

At that moment, I knew.

He too was abandoned.

His eyes conveyed, or perhaps demanded, something strange. Not to her, but to Victor. The idea of ​​being mistaken for him made her stomach churn, but then...

...her memory brought back a fragment she had read, a review of one of her favorite novels.

She had read it only once, but for some reason she clearly remembered what was written in that text:

...

Once upon a time, there lived a man who believed himself to be God.

Victor Frankenstein, heir to a noble Genevan family, coveted the secret that had obsessed alchemists and scholars since the beginning of time: the mystery of life.

Unsatisfied with the limits imposed by death, locked within the walls of his study, he defied the natural order and, through a profane combination of science, galvanism, and daring, brought into existence a nameless being.

A creature formed from human fragments, animated by sparks of electrical energy and the will of its creator.

But what was born was not an angel or a son, but an outcast, a dark reflection of the human soul.

The creature—tall, with disproportionate limbs and a repulsive face—awakened with a pure, almost childlike sensitivity.

He didn't understand the world, but he longed to know it. He didn't hate his creator, but rather sought him out with hope. He longed for a name, a place, a friendly face. Yet he was greeted with screams, fear, and abandonment.

And so, the deepest desire of that artificial being was always the same: to love and be loved. He asked for neither riches nor revenge. He only wanted what every living being seems granted by right: companionship, understanding, a hand that wouldn't flinch from touching him.

But the world was cruel. And his father, Victor, crueler still, fled from it as from an abomination.

The monster—for that's what they called him, and that's what he came to believe—wandered alone among mountains, forests, and villages, learning about human language and its misery. He observed men, admired their beauty, their tenderness, and understood that he would never be like them. Rage sowed where innocence had once been. Rejection was his fuel. Pain, his shadow.

And finding no love, he sought justice. And finding no justice, he found revenge.

The "false Prometheus"—Victor—had brought the fire of life, yes, but he did so without responsibility, without compassion. And the creature, his fallen Adam, became his punishment. Not out of malice, but out of desperation.

As for the being he brought into the world...

Adam woke up in a world that didn't seem made for him. His mind was a whirlwind of confusing sensations: a primal fear, a hunger for understanding, and a loneliness that hurt more than any physical wound.

His large, strange body felt like a foreign shell, an unlocked prison. He felt an unfathomable emptiness in his chest, a dull echo of a nameless longing.

He didn't know love, but he sensed it, like a distant, warm light he would never reach. Every time he sought the face of his creator, he hoped to find a gesture of affection or at least recognition; but he found only rejection and horror.

This abandonment pierced his soul, like a cold that won't heal, a wound that won't heal.

Adam was plunged into confusion and deep sadness. His heart, if it could be called that, oscillated between hope and despair.

He wanted to belong, but was driven into exile. He wanted to be understood, but was seen as a monster. Loneliness became his only constant companion.

As the days passed, a darker shadow settled in his chest: anger. Not a blind rage, but a storm of pain that demanded justice.

His desire for affection slowly transformed into a thirst for recognition, and if he couldn't obtain it through love, he would seek it through force.

But even in that fury, a thread of sadness lingered, a silent longing for redemption that made him question his very existence.

Was this a mistake? A punishment? Or simply a being condemned to wander eternally on the threshold between life and death, between humanity and bestiality?

That was Adam: a fragmented soul, torn between tenderness and fury, between hope and the abyss.

...

He returned to the present and looked up.

At some point, "Frankenstein" had approached, and now they were face to face.

But I understand.

Our stories have differences, I know, but...

"I understand you," she whispered softly, looking at him.

"Frankenstein" continued to look at her, and Eve could see the deep longing in those eyes. It was an ancient, persistent longing that not even death had been able to extinguish.

"So... even after your death..." Eva thought, "you still wanted that. Not to be alone. For someone to be with you, to accept you.

For Victor to grant that one wish."

A slow sigh escaped "Frankenstein's" cracked lips.

"...I'm sorry, but..." Eva said slowly, each word heavy with regret, "your wish... I can't grant it."

The silence that followed was absolute. As if the world itself were holding its breath.

In that suspended space, Eva felt the weight of eternity on her shoulders.

"Frankenstein" didn't respond. His gaze never wavered, but there was no longer fury or sadness in it, only a stillness that seemed resigned.

He was a monster, yes. But also a lost soul who, like her, was searching for something impossible.

Eva took a step back, feeling the emptiness that conversation left. The echo of that revelation reverberated within her.

"Perhaps..." she murmured to herself, "that's what makes us human, after all."

And without another word, the cave was filled with a dense silence, in which only the heartbeats of two souls condemned to never meet resonated.

Then "Frankenstein" raised an arm.

So in the end, he still wanted to finish her off...

Well... never mind, Eve thought. He couldn't move now anyway.

Or maybe he could... but didn't want to try to dodge.

Or maybe he just... didn't want to fight this monster anymore.

Not—with Him.

She closed her eyes and accepted her fate.

Whatever would happen, would happen.

But...

The blow never came.

She opened her eyes. She breathed and looked. The fist was still suspended in the air, ready to come down.

She thought that fist would fall and crush her.

Like Benedict's.

But it didn't.

The monster's arm remained raised for a moment longer... trembling.

And then... it collapsed to the side.

With a dull sound, the giant fell to his knees. His chest heaved with difficulty.

Thick, black smoke began to rise from his stitched skin.

It wasn't blood. It wasn't evil. It was… spiritual decay.

Eve looked at him. She could barely move.

The being in front of her… was dissolving.

Fading away.

He didn't scream. He didn't roar.

He only exhaled… as if suffering itself vanished with him.

Dark particles rose slowly, like ash floating in the void.

The core no longer glowed. Benedict Kizcrud no longer existed.

And without those two things… that Phantom no longer had a reason to be there.

He wasn't a Servant. He wasn't an invincible monster.

He was just a mistake. A shadow summoned by hatred and despair.

Now, without that darkness… he was gone.

Eva closed her eyes. Not out of fear. But out of exhaustion.

She hadn't won.

But she had survived.

...

"You're not a mistake..." I said suddenly, my voice low but firm. "Nor a monster..."

Most of Frankenstein's body had already vanished. Only part of his torso and head remained, barely held together by the threads of energy that sustained it.

"Despite what you went through… and how they saw you… you were innocent."

I took a step. Then another. One more.

I moved closer. And even though I couldn't raise my arms, even though every fiber in my body ached, I made the closest thing to a hug that I could manage.

I leaned into his chest.

"You just wanted someone... to understand you... to accept you... and love you..."

I didn't need to do more. What mattered was that the feeling I wanted to convey reached him. That he felt it, at least once."

"So... at least I can be that someone now... for you."

"..." A formless moan escaped his throat.

But I understood. I understood him perfectly, despite the absence of words.

"Thank you."

"...You're welcome. Goodbye, Adam."

And then he dispersed.

The energy that comprised him dissolved into the air like stardust, leaving behind only silence.

I stood there for a moment longer, breathing slowly. My legs trembled.

"...I was wrong again, Lea."

I said it softly, barely a whisper to myself.

"I still don't know what a monster is," I added, letting a sad smile spread across my chapped lips. "But... I think it was good to be wrong this time."

And so I was left alone in the cave.

__________________________________________

Pov. Third person.

Crack.

Eva heard it and turned her head.

She saw one of the glass containers crack, then another, and at the same time they all shattered.

The girls inside, intact and also...

—...Hmm?—

—...What?...

—Mommy? Where...?

One by one, they began to wake up. Lilia too, from the place where the chimera had deposited her.

Lilia rubbed her eyes and looked around.

At first, her blinks were slow and confused, as if she were still trapped in a deep sleep.

But as she focused better, the drowsiness dissipated, giving way to a deep, almost paralyzing fear.

—W-what...?

—Where are we?!

—Waaah! I want my mom!

—...Sister Blanche?

The voices mingled, filled with confusion and terror. Some sobbed, others screamed, all disoriented and frightened.

Then, above the chaos, a firm voice rose.

The voices mingled, filled with confusion and terror. Some sobbed, others screamed, all disoriented and frightened.

Then, above the chaos, a firm voice rose.

Anna looked at Eva, battered, bloodied, and exhausted, but with a broken smile on her face, as fragile as her body.

"...Hello, Anna."

Eva tried to take a step toward them, but her legs gave way and she fell face first to the ground. A clumsy movement that only increased the girls' fear.

"SISTER BLANCHE!"

Anna was the first to run toward her. The others followed without hesitation.

The girls quickly surrounded her, their small figures moving with urgency and care.

Anna was the first to reach Eva, closely followed by Lilia, who ran from where she was.

"Sister Blanche, are you okay?!" Anna asked, her trembling hands trying to support her.

Lilia knelt beside Eva, gently helping her sit up.

"Why are you bleeding?!" "She whispered, her eyes wide with worry.

Some of the other girls began to cry uncontrollably, asking between sobs:

"Aren't you going to die, Sister Blanche?" a child's voice broke the fearful silence.

Eva tried to smile to calm them, even though her body ached and blood was still flowing from her wounds. She gently squeezed the hands that were helping her, feeling the human warmth like an unexpected balm.

"No... I'm not going to die," she whispered, her voice weak but firm. "I'm here with you."

With her help, Eva stood up, but just barely.

Anna tried to look around more, but Eva stopped her with a trembling hand.

"No," she said gently, her voice hoarse but firm. "Don't do it."

The girls remained still, confused.

"Please..." she added, with a sad smile. "Close your eyes. Trust me, there are things in this cave no girl should ever see."

The little girls looked at each other, uncertain, uneasy. Some hesitated.

But at Eva's tired gaze and calm voice, one by one they slowly closed their eyes.

Eva nodded, relieved.

"Good... now..." she took a step forward, "just follow me. Hold on to me and don't let go."

The girls obeyed, clinging to her dress, her arms, her injured hands.

Eva walked, guided by memory, staggering, the girls clinging to her in silence.

Just when she felt she couldn't take it anymore...

"Blanche?"

The surprised voice made her look ahead.

She looked up.

Madame Louise was there, bundled up, an oil lamp in her hand. Around her, several villagers, all with faces of shock, horror, and confusion.

Eva tried to smile, broken, bloody, soaked in mud.

"Hello... Madame Louise... j-just in time..."

She tried to take another step, but her knees gave way and she fell face first to the ground.

"I... order..."

"BLANCHE!"

"...the rest..." she murmured in a barely whispered voice, before falling unconscious.

The girls screamed. The adults ran toward her. Madame Louise fell to her knees beside her wounded body, trying to talk to her, to move her.

But Eve...

Eve was happy. And tired.

And so, with her body shattered, her heart still beating, and her hands stained with blood, Eve fell... not as a monster, nor as a creation, but as a sister who kept her promise.

In the midst of the darkness, guided by a spark of love and memory, she saved what she could.

And she didn't have a single nightmare when she slept.

End of Chapter 8

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Sorry for not updating yesterday. I came home exhausted and fell asleep as soon as I hit the bed.

Extra:

Class: None (unsuitable container)

Type: Specter / Phantom Spirit

Source: Literary Work

Region: Europe (Switzerland / England)

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Attribute: Earth

Catalyst: Eve Frankenstein (real, living version)

Parameters (Variable, unstable)

Strength: E~D

Stamina: E~C

Agility: E-

Mana: E

Luck: E

Noble Phantasm: N/A

(Due to its unsuitable container and lack of nature as a Phantom Spirit, its parameters are extremely unstable.)

Class Abilities:

None (Container without class)

Personal Abilities:

Monstrous Strength (False) – D-Rank

An ability derived from infamy and collective fear, not from a magical beast lineage. It allows the user to temporarily increase their physical strength when they are perceived or perceive themselves as a "monster."

Innocent Monster – C+Rank

Like many literary figures distorted by oral tradition, the user's true self has been altered to fit the popular view. Their body, mind, and presence have been "rebuilt" to embody the feared monster, not the tragic being they once were.

(Effect: They suffer alteration of identity, parameters, and expected actions. They can no longer think or act as a human or rational being.)

Mind Warp – B-Rank

It's not insanity. It's programming. The user has been mentally molded to conform to what they are believed to be: a violent, solitary, and languageless beast. In combat, they act on instinct, but retain a faint trace of existential pain.

(Additional Effect: Immunity to communication or persuasion abilities if they do not contain fear or guilt.)

Noble Phantasm:

None (unsuitable container)