La Catedral De La Carne - Vicente Silvestre Mar... -

However, the "Cathedral" began to demand more than just his time. The scale of his ambition created a vacuum. Local legends whispered that the soil beneath the foundations had grown too thirsty. As the business expanded, Vicente’s connection to the townspeople frayed. They saw him not as a provider, but as a high priest of a religion they didn't understand—one where the only god was profit and the only ritual was consumption. The Great Feast and the Fall

The architecture was a macabre masterpiece. High, vaulted ceilings allowed the steam of the processing floors to rise like incense. The floors were tiled in deep crimson—not for aesthetics, but to mask the inevitable stains of the trade. To Vicente, the rhythmic thud of the cleaver and the lowing of the herds were a symphony, a "Missa Solemnis" of the marketplace. The Architect of Blood La catedral de la carne - Vicente Silvestre Mar...

On the night of a grand banquet held inside the main hall—a celebration of the facility’s tenth anniversary—a freak storm broke the heatwave. Lightning struck the iron vents of the roof. In the ensuing chaos, the heavy machinery groaned under the strain of a sudden power surge from the early electrical generators Vicente had installed. However, the "Cathedral" began to demand more than

The "Cathedral" became a trap of its own design. The very efficiency Vicente prized turned against the guests as the automated gates jammed. It was a night of poetic, grizzly justice; the man who built a temple to the flesh found himself at the mercy of the machine he created. The Aftermath As the business expanded, Vicente’s connection to the