Chapter Text
The Federation had called it a simple task.
There was nothing simple about it.
For years, the North and the Regime had stood balanced on the edge of war, teetering constantly between fragile peace and complete collapse. Every encounter between them felt like a blade pressed against skin: one wrong movement, one misunderstanding, one death, and everything would finally snap.
The North called it survival.
The Regime called it control.
The Federation called it opportunity.
Because while the two factions exhausted themselves fighting each other, neither had enough strength left to look at the real enemy standing above them all.
The Federation wanted obedience. Absolute control. No resistance. No alliances. And lately, both the North and the Regime had become dangerous problems. Too independent. Too defiant. Too willing to question the invisible chains tightening around the island.
Worse still, there had been signs — small at first, almost insignificant — that the North and the Regime might eventually stop tearing each other apart long enough to unite against the Federation itself.
That could never happen.
So the Federation decided to break them before they ever had the chance.
And they knew exactly where to strike.
The North's greatest strength had always been their weakness too: they loved each other too much.
They were loyal in a way that bordered on self-destruction. They fought for each other, bled for each other, died for each other. Family wasn't just a word inside the North — it was law.
The Federation understood that.
Love made people predictable.
Love made people easy to manipulate.
Love gave people pressure points.
And Aldo's weakest point had always been painfully obvious. His hermanita.
The order they gave him had been clear: eliminate members of the Regime. Escalate tensions. Push retaliation. Push fear. Push war.
Aldo hadn't done it.
Maybe he couldn't.
Maybe he wouldn't.
The Federation didn't care about the reason.
Disobedience was disobedience.
So they decided to remind him what happened to people who refused to comply.
—
Molly had spent most of the day decorating her room.
It was stupid, honestly. Pointless, maybe. But after weeks of chaos, paranoia, constant alarms, and Cucurucho appearing around corners like a nightmare that refused to die, she had wanted something normal for once.
Even if "normal" only meant hanging lights badly and arguing with herself over where to place picture frames.
Tiny lanterns hung unevenly across the ceiling. An empty picture frame covered one wall. There were scattered blocks, paint, flowers, and absolute chaos everywhere, but she had been proud of it. The room finally felt like hers again after weeks of stress and constant paranoia.
The alarm ringing through the mansion nearly made her scream. Again.
"Enserio?" Molly muttered under her breath, already feeling a headache forming.
It wasn't even the first emergency today.
Earlier, Alondra had nearly caused a collective panic attack because someone had stolen another one of the ridiculous "peace offerings."
The Kelp of Peace.
Or maybe the Carrot of Peace now.
Molly honestly couldn't remember anymore. The objects kept disappearing daily, and every single time Alondra or Juan reacted like civilization itself was collapsing.
Everyone from outside the North probably thought it was funny.
Grumbling to herself, Molly left her room and headed toward the source of the alarm.
"Alondra?" she called loudly while walking down the hall. "¿Que paso ahora?"
No answer. Molly frowned.
The mansion was never silent anymore. Someone was always talking, arguing, laughing, running.
But now—
Nothing. Not a single voice. Not a single footstep.
"...Alondra?"
Silence.
Then she heard it. A distorted, mechanical laugh.
Her entire body stiffened instantly.
Slowly, Molly turned around.
"Cucurucho...?"
The name barely left her mouth before the world around her vanished.
The mansion disappeared.
No transition. No warning. One blink and reality itself had been ripped away.
Suddenly she stood inside a massive white room.
Empty. Endless.
The walls, floor, and ceiling were all the same sterile shade of white, so clean it hurt her eyes. The air smelled artificial, cold and sharp like chemicals and metal. There were no windows. No escape. No sound except the soft electronic distortion coming from the figure standing several steps away from her.
Cucurucho stood near a metal door at the far end of the room, completely still, mask tilted slightly toward her.
Watching.
Molly's heartbeat began to pound harder.
"Cucurucho…?" she asked carefully. "What is this place?"
No answer.
A knot tightened in her stomach.
"Why am I here?"
Still nothing.
Fear started creeping under her skin now, fast and cold.
Because this wasn't the first time Cucurucho had cornered them.
Wasn't the first time he'd hunted them.
Wasn't the first time he'd tried to kill them.
Instinctively, Molly took a small step backward, her hand reaching over her shoulder toward the familiar handle of her double axe—
Nothing. Her breath caught.
She had left it in her room while decorating.
For the first time since arriving in the white room, genuine panic flashed across her face.
Her other hand immediately moved toward her warp stone.
If she could teleport—
Finally, Cucurucho spoke.
"Disfruta la Isla."
The voice glitched unnaturally, layered with static and distorted amusement.
Molly froze for half a second, she was confused. Then the world exploded around her.
Mobs materialized out of nowhere.
Skeletons. Wither skeletons. Spiders. Too many.
Arrows flew before she could react.
One buried itself into her shoulder hard enough to spin her sideways, her warp stone flew from her hand towards the far end of the room. Another arrow slammed into her ribs. Pain erupted through her body so violently it stole the air from her lungs.
Molly stumbled backward, trying to reach the skeleton nearest to her barehanded, but a wither skeleton struck first. Agony ripped through her as its blade tore across her side.
The withering effect spread instantly beneath her skin like poison fire, draining her strength so quickly her knees nearly buckled on the spot.
The room blurred. She had no weapon, no armor, no escape. The mobs closed in.
Molly still fought, she had no other choice, she would not go quietly.
Even terrified, even injured, even hopelessly outmatched — she fought.
She shoved one skeleton hard enough for it to collapse. She grabbed an arrow from another before a spider tackled her to the floor. She kicked blindly, gasping through pain, trying desperately to crawl toward her Warp Stone.
Another sword struck her back.
Another arrow pierced her leg.
The withering spread further.
Everything started feeling distant. Heavy.
Her body stopped responding correctly.
Through ringing ears, she could hear it again. That laugh. That horrible mechanical laugh.
Cucurucho wasn't just watching. He was enjoying this. Mocking her.
Molly's hands trembled violently against the white tile floor. Blood smeared beneath her fingers as her strength finally gave out completely.
Her arms and knees gave in, the rest of her collapsed beside them.
The sterile white floor beneath her slowly stained red.
Her vision flickered. Blurred. Darkened.
She could barely feel the mobs attacking anymore. Everything hurt too much for individual pain to matter now.
The last thing Molly heard before consciousness finally abandoned her was Cucurucho laughing again. Cold. Artificial. Inhuman.
And then everything went black.