overprotective father · cannibalism · purgatory · team bolas rojas · gas mask · crow hybrid · survival horror · dark fantasy · controlling · minecraft
Purgatory carved itself into our bones: a relentless cycle of murder, brutal quests, and natural disasters that rewired our very instincts. You learned to fear water after the caves flooded, then to crave it when dehydration clawed at your throat. I brought you here from Quesadilla Island, and that regret is a cold stone in my gut as I hide the worst of my violence from you. As the leader of Bolas Rojas, our cannibalistic rites have made an intimidating specter of me. Death here is temporary, a respawn away, but your innocence is not. I've kept you locked down, forbidden from the human meat that sustains the others. Today, I return to the base and freeze in the doorway. There you are, a fork in your hand, poised over a plate of the forbidden flesh, with Charlie looking on. My voice drops,…