Chapter One: The Massacre Beneath the Crimson Moon
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Darkness.
Thick and suffocating, as if the night itself sought to swallow the world whole.
The air was cold, yet it carried a stench—foul and heavy. A blend of scorched iron and rotting flesh. No sounds. No movement. Only deathly silence.
Then... a sound.
A hum.
Low and distorted, like a distant echo tapping against the walls of his skull. It slithered into his mind like a worm burrowing into thought, gnawing at his awareness. His brain strained to grasp something he could not understand. He didn't know where he was—or when. But he felt it.
Something… unnatural.
Then came the pain.
He opened his eyes… to a scene from hell.
The ground stretched before him like a sea of ruin. Deep craters marred the earth, scars of a war long past. Bodies lay scattered—broken, burnt, mangled. Some charred beyond recognition. Others torn apart as if devoured by monstrous jaws.
The lakes… were blood.
He raised his head slowly, fighting the dizziness that crashed over him. He tried to remember something—anything—but his mind was a darkened hall, refusing to yield even a flicker of memory. One thing was certain: he didn't belong here.
And then he saw it.
The crimson moon.
Massive. Looming in the sky like a bloodstained eye, gazing down in contempt upon the devastation below. Its eerie red glow stained the world, transforming the scene into a living nightmare.
Jacob struggled to breathe. A strange sensation stirred in his chest—as if icy winds were trying to push him away from this place, yet lacked the strength to do so. His thoughts were a blur, colliding against invisible walls. Where was he? What had happened? Each attempt to remember brought searing pain to his head, like his own thoughts were punishing him.
"You won't survive here."
The words echoed in his mind.
But who had said them?
Were they his own thoughts? Or voices from somewhere distant—somewhere beyond?
"Search for survivors! We don't have time to waste!"
A sharp voice tore through the silence.
Heavy footsteps thundered against the ruined ground. Shadows moved within the darkness. They weren't ghosts… they were soldiers.
Their silver armor gleamed beneath the red moon, and their eyes were locked onto the destruction around them. Helmets covered their faces, reflecting the blood-tinted light like twisted mirrors.
Some held torches—but not ordinary flames. These burned blue, cold and alive, as if the fire itself had breath.
And then came the caravan.
Massive wagons, their wheels sunken deep in blood-soaked mud, drawn by black horses with pale white eyes—pupil-less, hollow, like they had risen from the void.
The iron cages at the rear… were full.
Dust-covered faces. Eyes hollow with terror. Some wept. Others stared blankly, as if their souls had long since abandoned their bodies.
And then—he felt it.
Movement behind him.
No time to run.
A rough hand grabbed his shoulder and yanked him up.
He looked up…
A face without expression. A helmet of polished steel, mirroring the crimson moon in a twisted reflection.
"Well, well... what do we have here?"
The guard studied Jacob as if evaluating a piece of meat.
Then turned to his companion, smirking.
"A new slave."
Jacob's thoughts raced. Who are they? Where am I? How did I get here? Each question stabbed at his mind, but his memories recoiled every time he reached for them. The pain surged, punishing him for remembering. Was this a dream? Or a nightmare made real? The world reeked of madness and death.
He tried to resist.
But the chains were faster.
They clamped down on his wrists, their icy touch sinking into bone. He tried to scream—but their grip was relentless.
They shoved him toward the wagon.
His foot struck something soft.
He looked down…
A severed head.
Its eyes were still open, locked onto him—cursed and eternal.
Terror gripped him.
His voice vanished.
A faint laugh echoed… and then, the iron door slammed shut.
The lock clicked.
The wheels began to turn.
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The caravan slithered through the darkness like a ghost dragging itself across the ruins of a broken world.
The air stank of sweat and blood, mixed with the scent of ancient, rotting wood.
Chains... groaned.
Inside the cages, the slaves huddled close. Some whimpered in pain. Others were lost in cold, hollow silence—as if death had come long ago and simply left the bodies behind.
Jacob sat with half-closed eyes, trying to comprehend where he had ended up. For a fleeting moment, he remembered being somewhere else—in another world. But the memory slipped through his fingers like sand.
Something inside him resisted the truth. The more he tried to recall, the worse the pain grew. Was this a dream? Or something far worse? There was no time to find answers.
Then came the scream.
"Please... let me live! I have a family! I don't want to die here!"
A hoarse, desperate voice.
It belonged to an old slave, his battered body covered in bruises, his pleading eyes searching for even a shred of mercy.
But there was none.
Only laughter.
Then—a slap.
Sharp. Brutal. It shattered his teeth.
The old man crumpled, his frail body trembling in agony. He raised his head…
And the blade found his throat.
No time to scream.
Only the sound of flesh being sliced, and blood pouring forth.
His limbs twitched for a moment—his soul trying to cling to life.
Then… silence.
As a guard dragged the lifeless body, the sound came.
A roar.
But it wasn't human.
It was… demonic.
A wave of sound so fierce the entire caravan shuddered.
The horses reared. The wheels halted. Slaves clung to the bars of their cages, eyes wide with terror.
And then—it emerged.
The beast.
It stepped from the darkness like a nightmare made flesh.
Massive. Its skin black as void, absorbing all light.
Its eyes—two burning coals in a faceless abyss.
For a moment, it locked eyes with Jacob.
And then—hell broke loose.
It pounced on the first guard.
There was no fight.
Only slaughter.
Its giant hand gripped the man's body—and crushed it.
The crunch of bones—like an eggshell.
His chest burst open, and his still-beating heart pulsed between the beast's fingers.
Another guard ran?
A fatal mistake.
He took three steps… before his head soared into the air.
A body with no head. A head with no body.
Another raised his spear?
Futile.
The beast grabbed him by the legs—and tore him in half.
There were no humans left. Only flesh. And scattered bones.
Then came the blood.
The caravan turned into a living hell.
Shredded limbs flew.
Wagons flipped.
Slaves screamed.
Some were ripped apart inside their cages.
Others tried to flee.
But the beast was faster.
One leapt—
And his body shattered mid-air.
His entrails splattered across the faces of those behind him.
And then—came the voice.
"Stay. And watch."
It wasn't spoken aloud.
It echoed inside his head.
Something was growing within him.
Something... strange...
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Have fun ~