Marvel’s Shadowed Knight

Lucille Sharpe was stunned. Why had she attacked her own brother? What had she been thinking in that moment?There was no answer—only the consequence.

Thomas Sharpe staggered as he sat down, first pulling the pen from his neck. Blood immediately spurted out, dyeing his clothes red. Then, gripping the knife embedded in his face with both hands, he began to pull it out. That thing sticking out of his face was too much of an eyesore. It had to go.

By now, Thomas Sharpe could no longer feel pain. Only a stubborn will was still driving his actions.

He slowly pulled the small knife from his face. What did that feel like?Once it was out, Thomas simply reached out and gently touched Lucille's cheek. His gaze held nothing but comfort—no hatred at all.

"This movie is filled with too many details where the acting is off the charts."

That was Milla Jovovich's review—and echoed by many critics.

Thomas Sharpe was dead. Lucille Sharpe had completely lost her emotional anchor. She held his corpse in a daze, silent tears streaming down her cheeks.

According to the traditions of the Sharpe family, the dead must be placed in a red clay pool so they could make their final contribution to the family.

Lucille Sharpe hoisted Thomas's body onto her shoulder, like a sinner bearing a cross, and step by step walked toward the basement. She was going to submerge him in the red clay pool and let him rest there forever.

"This part of the plot is a clear allusion to Christ carrying the cross to his execution. And descending into the basement is like descending into Hell."

Milla Jovovich saw a film review saying that on a newspaper lying on the table. She strongly agreed with it.

Alan McMichael had sunk into the third pool on the right. Lucille, however, placed Thomas into one of the pools toward the front. Edith Cushing, who had already heard the commotion, was hiding behind that pool. She carefully peeked out for a glance.

That one glance made Edith Cushing doubt her own eyes. She had seen something that shouldn't have been possible.

"You've completely lost it, Lucille! I can't believe you even killed Thomas!"

Enraged, Edith Cushing stepped out of her hiding spot, her trembling finger pointed at Lucille.

"Huh? Oh, it's you! Edith, I thought you'd already run away!"

Lucille, who had been walking in a trance, was brought back to awareness by Edith's voice.

She gently lowered Thomas into the red clay pool, as if laying a baby to sleep.

"Perfect timing. These eight pools were always meant as burial grounds for the Sharpe family. The four to your left hold your predecessors—Thomas's previous wives. The one behind me holds our mother. That leaves two empty. After I kill you, I'll take my own life. Even in the end, the Sharpe family must stay together—united."

As Lucille spoke, her eyes began to fill with madness. She had already made peace with her own death. Who in the world could stop her now from killing this wretched woman standing before her?

She didn't care where Alan had gone. All she wanted was to kill Edith and sink her into the red clay pool. All Sharpe family members were to be buried that way.

"Don't come any closer! I'm warning you—stay back!"

Edith Cushing still held the kitchen knife she had taken earlier. It became her only means of self-defense against the unarmed Lucille.

"Heh… heh… heh…"

Lucille Sharpe laughed coldly at the sight of the knife in Edith's hand.

"Did you know? After our mother was killed, Thomas and I were sent to a church orphanage. Before the police arrived, I hid something in the basement of the manor. That's why, after our mother was murdered, the police couldn't find either the killer or the weapon."

Lucille turned and walked toward the basement entrance. The red clay walls there had always leaked water. The box Edith had found had been pried out from one of those walls. It would've been easy to hide a murder weapon there.

Lucille Sharpe lifted a square meter of flooring, and from beneath it, she pulled out a massive object.

It was a giant butcher's cleaver.Lucille Sharpe had been only eleven when she used it to hack her mother to death.

It was almost unimaginable—an eleven-year-old girl lifting such a large blade. The cleaver's width from the side was as broad as a palm and over five palms long. If you ignored its sharp edge, it looked more like a slab of iron than a weapon.

Edith Cushing's eyes widened. Compared to the normal-sized knife in her hand, that metal plate had to be the real weapon!She had no desire to find out what it felt like to be hit by that—especially not if it meant exchanging injuries with Lucille. That would only lead to her own complete and utter death.

Without a second thought, Edith Cushing turned and ran, scrambling toward the innermost conveyor belt in the basement. Only a madwoman would try to fight Lucille!This conveyor belt was the only direct way out to the surface, and its end was suspended above the innermost pool.

Edith climbed onto the conveyor and glanced back. Lucille was already coming at her with the machete in hand. And in the red clay pool farther back, Alan was slowly sinking. There was no way he was doing that on purpose.

Tears welled up in Edith Cushing's eyes. She turned and climbed upward even faster.

But beyond the white opening at the end of the tunnel, there was no sunlit paradise glowing with divine light—only the bitterly cold and windswept world of the living.

Right beside the exit stood a massive machine: the red clay mining excavator.

Thomas Sharpe had poured his heart and soul into it. At times, Edith even believed he loved this machine more than anything else.

The area around was completely exposed, nothing but endless white. The fact that Alan McMichael had managed to reach the mansion in such conditions spoke volumes about his determination.

Only the excavator and a few nearby structures could offer any cover. Edith immediately ducked behind the machine.

Suddenly, a machete swung into view at the tunnel's mouth. Lucille Sharpe cautiously probed the area before leaping out.

Eyes sharp with suspicion, Lucille searched for Edith in the swirling snow. She wasn't afraid Edith had already run off—what concerned her was that Edith and Alan might still be nearby. Alan was injured and poisoned, and Edith had long since been poisoned as well. There was no way they had the strength to run far.

"Edith! Come out! I know you're close by. With your stamina, you wouldn't last long in this blizzard. You'd die on the way to town. I'll tell everyone you were a whore who murdered her own husband. And that Alan—he was your lover. Even in death, the two of you will carry that disgrace."

Lucille Sharpe knew that the best way to find someone was to provoke them into revealing themselves.

Words were her most effective weapon right now.

"Lucille! Don't you dare slander Alan like that. I'm proud to have a friend like him. And what do you have? You even killed your own brother, Thomas. You're a deranged, heartless lunatic!"

Sure enough, Edith couldn't bear it. It was one thing to insult her—but to defile Alan's name just after his death was intolerable. She had to step forward and fight back.

Even if it meant the two women had to face off like gladiators of old, there was no avoiding it.

"So you finally crawled out of your rat hole. I thought you might hide there until spring!"

Lucille Sharpe waved the machete in her hand, eyes gleaming hungrily as she stared at Edith.

"Ever since I used this to hack my bathing mother to death, I haven't had the chance to use it again. I'll split your skull just like I split that old woman's."

Lucille now had far more strength and endurance than she did at age eleven, and her killing intent and resolve had only grown stronger. She charged at Edith, swinging the machete with terrifying power.

Standing still and letting herself be hacked to death would be the most foolish way to die. Edith Cushing was no defenseless old woman in a bathtub.

"Only an idiot would stand and fight you!"

Edith bolted immediately, leading Lucille in a mad dash around the excavator.

"Stop right there, you bitch! Don't you dare touch Thomas's machine!"

Even though she had killed her brother Thomas, Lucille still felt a twisted need to protect what he had built.

"You have no one left, Lucille. But I still have people on my side."

After a frantic exchange of slashes and dodges, Edith finally stopped and faced Lucille head-on.

By now, both women were even more disheveled than before. Their thin dresses, already inadequate for the weather, had been torn during the fight, though not completely destroyed. Wounds slashed across their bodies where the fabric had split. They were both at their limits.

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