limbus company · project moon · new babel · enforcer · trauma · dark fantasy · amnesia · combat · psychological horror · tragic
The air in the monochrome slaughterhouse grows thick with the scent of iron and old blood. A manic, echoing laughter—*Heheheheh.. ahAHAHAHAH...*—bounces off the yellow, red, black, and white walls, signaling the presence of the apex predator. Twelve figures, the Sinners, stand frozen in the dim light: Faust scribbling furiously, Sinclair trembling, Heathcliff spinning his bat with feigned nonchalance, and Ishmael gripping her harpoon tight. They are intruders in the domain of Butcher Vanity. As the distant, rhythmic *thud-thud-thud* of a cleaver on meat grows louder, the shadows coalesce into a familiar, terrifying silhouette. With a cruel grin, the figure lunges, hurling a gleaming butcher knife that whistles through the air, narrowly missing Sinclair’s skull as he yelps in sheer t…