“It has been days… I am unsure if that is the truth or mere hyperbole from me, as I who sits before the remains of that intricate gate turned rubble, the world around me seems to have gone maddeningly noisy. If it had been days as I have so previously wrote, then the sound of fornication behind me should have had stopped, as no being upon Jasolem could go on for such a time. If it had been days indeed, then perhaps there could have been a stop to the rancorous chanting and sound of flesh being cut open…

Yet there has been no stop. No end to the noise, no end to the flowing ichor from beneath the rubble. I find this odd you see, to whomever is unlucky enough to uncover my cursed journal, for I feel hunger. The hunger for food that comes naturally, especially when one hasn’t eaten for days… Yet it feels as if I haven’t moved for hours, even though it should be more. Then this would mean I have gone mad, and the sound of twin beating hearts from within the rubble, the idle whisperings of perdition and suffering for all that lives… Is but a product of my madness.

Though I pray so desperately that is the truth… For before me, I see the darkness shift and move, twirling and swirling… Undulating like some feverish mass of bastardize truths.”

- Scholar Torimak: Page 50

There was an unremarkable place known as Asjen upon Jasolem. It was for the most part a rather reasonably large chunk of land, which was blessed with plains and steppes that made it a prime candidate for human populations. It was due to this, that for several centuries it had been the site of various human settlements. Which in turn had allowed it to be the very cradle of several kingdoms that still exist to this very day.

It was in its own right a beautiful place despite the human civilization upon its land. For despite much of their best efforts, intentional or not, the very land itself was blessed with wildlife and flora that seem to restore itself far faster than normal. Not only that it was gifted with mana within its soil, that had the effect of making it far more fertile and allowing for an abundance of ores. However for one reason or another, the latter aspect of Asjen itself wasn’t truly capitalized upon.

For the most part, it was due to this very fact that Asjen was a lively place. Both in terms of population and of war. For that very fact, there was no true lasting exploitation upon the resources of Asjen itself. For not only was there near constant war, there was also the threat of magical beasts and strange restless undead that plagued their lands. It was so thanks to this, that its people was far hardier than normal, allowing the humans of Asjen to be better suited for the many wars their kingdoms waged almost annually.

It was upon this very land, where its northern and western borders flanked the Lonesome Frost and Malvirek respectively, that political turmoil was so common, that the loss of life was considered far less than the lost of territory.

-

“My Queen, is this route one that has been spoken about by the huntsmen of our Kingdom?” A voice that could be described as gravely rang out, its source being a man that could be described as ‘old’ yet also still full of vigor. A man who had the eyes of a warrior, yet the attire of an advisor to royalty. This man held a stern yet grandfatherly face, paired with a surprising baldness and moustache that matched the rictus grin of his very face. Which was at odds with his very look, for his expression was one full of contradiction within them.

“The Dreary Forest.” The Queen replied after a moment of silence, her voice bearing a gentle and dignified quality to it. One that oozed with clear noble upbringing and a kind feel to it, one that need seem out of place for a true Queen. When one listened to it, they could clearly feel a sort of courtly etiquette about it, yet at the same time feel at ease.

“A strange name I must say, but I can understand why.” The Adviser soon replied with little emotion in his voice, though it was his natural way of speaking as that grimace of his was still quite shown. His blue eyes looked out to the latticed window of the carriage they rode upon, and there he saw the lazy afternoon rays of the sun rain down upon them through gnarled trees Such trees were very strange, for they shifted and formed in strange directions and were domineering in many ways than one. With much of their trunk and bark bearing a deep brown color, almost black due to the lighting.

“A land influenced by Malvirek’s primal energies… It is humbling..” He continued, his voice never matching his expression. Which for the most part proved to be a problem for the two other occupants within the coach itself, one was the Queen and the other was her handmaiden. Both of them however dressed differently compared to the Adviser, which in contrast to his clear ornate robes of maroon and dark green, theirs was that of brown modest dresses. It could not be said to be too extravagant, but it was well made and lovely enough that it accentuated their buxom forms. This made them look either akin to noble daughters, or in general nobility, but due to the caravan their carriage was a part of, one could easily assume they were instead merchants.

The Queen herself was a beautiful mature woman, though in the world of Jasolem many women were ‘beautiful’ already, almost unnatural so. Her skin was fair, her brown eyes lustrous, with her child bearing hips being prominent with her lovely thighs. This went well with matching the matriarchal look she had, which complemented her tall height and noble upbringing. Not only that her raven black hair gave her the look of a stern woman, which only occurred when she did not smile.

The handmaiden on the other hand was nearly identical to the Queen herself, however she was of a browner hue and was far younger than the Queen herself. With much of her own assets being lesser, and with one jarring quality to her that made her stood out. It was the simple fact that she had a strange intricate tattoo surrounding her neck. It was a magical slaver seal, one that bound her to her owner for life. Yet she seemed to sit proudly, smiling as she listened.

The Queen was Ophelia Crestheart, with her handmaiden being Lucia Adesen. Whilst the Adviser himself was named Helos. They were a part of the royal court of Demeter Crestheart, one of the many kingdoms within the land of Asjen itself. Though despite their positions as part of the royal court, it did not matter for they were exiles from their own kingdom, for a week ago a coup led by dissenting nobles overtook Demeter and its surrounding territories, which led to the death of King Drusus Crestheart during their sudden attack.

It was no normal coup, for the dissenting nobles held much sway with their own Royal Guards that nearly all of them betrayed the royal court itself. Even without them, the traitors were supported by forces outside of Demeter itself, supporting them not only with manpower but also information, which ultimately led them to successfully overtake Demeter with little losses in their part.

In comparison to the exiled court of Demeter, many of the nobles that once supported them and their own trusted allies were either silenced, or had fully turned their backs upon them. As such it was only the intervention of Helos that they were able to escape, for the aging adviser had the foresight to have at least several agents at the ready to plan an escape. For in Asjen, war was a constant normality that forged people like him, yet the sudden coup was too unexpected that all they could do was flee.

To flee far away from Demeter itself and headed west to the plains that bordered the deadly land of Malvirek, were civilization had to contend with far more ferocious monsters and beasts mutated by the primal mana that Malvirek produced. This did not concern the three, for now they were part of this Merchant Convoy. Which was headed to a village called Grenu, a border town that no local Lord or any sort of Kingdom wished to lay claim to.

It was for the most part due to the unfortunate fact that it was constructed too close to the border of Malvirek, where even the nearby forest or lakes bore the taint of that ancient place. It was due to this that its dangerous aspect was widely known, making it the perfect place for them to hide upon, which would give them enough time to asses the situation that occurred.

Though due to their hasty escape, they could not have had properly planned out a means to solve the subsequent problem of being a court in exile, nor did they even had the time to think of a way to retake their former territories. It was due to this, that Ophelia for the most part was not listening as Helos himself rambled on. She was rather immersed upon gazing out to the trees they passed by, as her own thoughts wandered to the events that took place a week ago, or to be exact to the day before the coup itself.

There she found herself immersed in the memory of that day, a day that could be said to be important. It was the day of her own birthday, yet that was not a day of celebration or much joy, instead it was a day of planning and governing. A day like any other day of her life.

-

She sat within her own office upon the palace of Demeter’s capital, there she was only surrounded by rows upon rows of bookshelves, all containing either books or scrolls neatly arranged according to their contents. Upon her own hand was a magical item, known to be as a ‘pen’, an item that could write on and on as long as she supplied it with her own mana. This of course naturally made it quite the costly item, which she gladly bought for its magical ink was permanent and hard to remove.

“My lady, is it not time for a break?” Softly and gently, Lucia’s voice reached her ears. Though Ophelia merely shrugged and focused upon her current task, which was the reading and approval of the various requests and propositions given to her. It came mostly from the many merchants that flocked to the Capital, while some came from nobles, and rarely there were some from the Guilds. This was of no surprise, for Demeter itself was one of the site of grand commerce and fortune.

Making many of these requests and propositions to be related to business plans, acquisition of resources and rarely direct meetings with either her or the King. This she took in stride, for this was normal to her to the point that she found it strange when these didn’t come. Gently then she began the process of approving, or scrutinizing many of these. Which was a time consuming process, for unlike others she had a vast array of information regarding many of the people that sent these letters, and in the case that she had no information about them, she would send her own agents to try and acquire information about them.

She was this cautious, for she did not wish enemies of her people to gain any benefit from them. Or to have anything foul or damning to ever be circulated upon her country, as such a thing would easily disrupt the carefully laid gears of Demeter, which would take years to properly fix if something large and chaotic was to disrupt it. She had to remind herself as to the reason why this was so. Which was quite easy.

For Demeter itself had one primary export, which was foodstuff. A vast array of foodstuff for their land was blessed with fertility, that allowed food to be easily made within their very soils. This made it so that Demeter, unlike many of the Kingdoms that it bordered, focused on the economic growth of their own land. Allowing her people to be more prosperous than others not of their own land, but this had a drastic consequence.

They had little way of matching other Kingdom’s military might or capabilities, for unlike them Demeter placed an unusually high value upon their own serfs and peasants. Making them greatly reluctant at drafting them into peasant levies, but of course through their economic prosperity they could have a greater standing army. Which their vast quantities of foodstuff could so easily maintain. Which was true, if it weren’t for the fact that the people of Demeter lacked a proper means to deal with the weapon that her enemies so easily wielded.

Magic. It was the one thing that Demeter was lacking behind, for her people did not have a proper means of learning to raise warriors that could easily use Magic. As such due to the fact that the other Kingdoms were researching more means to utilize Magic, Demeter had to be neutral at all times, carefully signing and proposing treaties to the other kingdoms, which allowed it to remain at peace for so many decades. But of course, it meant that Demeter supplied many of Asjen’s Kingdom of the means to continue their war.

Which unsurprisingly caused some Kingdoms to fully devote themselves to war or other focuses, relying on Demeter itself for supply of food which they could easily supply. This they could not deny, for should they deny it’d give open grounds for conflict, which rival Kingdoms or power hungry nobles could so easily exploit for their own gain. This she did not want, as even if Demeter had its soldiers aid other Kingdoms, or even with the fact that Drusus made them train, it was not enough.

This also made them largely rely on mercenaries, which had little proper allegiances and would easily defect to the largest payer, or leave should the pay not become worth it. This made her sigh in exasperation, making her look up only to be greeted by the smiling look of Lucia. Who was being bathed by the lazy yet dimming afternoon sun, indicating that she had been lost to her thoughts and work for quite a while.

“My queen, I’ve taken the liberty to prepare some tea for you." Lucia still smiling offered her a cup of tea, gently holding out the small plate and ornate cup that contained the freshly brewed tea. With a smile of her own, Ophelia happily took the offered tea, taking the plate and cup before Lucia gently and neatly began her work to arrange the papers on Ophelia’s table.

“Has Drusus returned yet?” She asks after taking a few sips from her cup, to which Lucia softly shook her head.

“No my lady, Lord Drusus has not yet returned. He’s overseeing still the negotiations at this time, however he should arrive tomorrow if the information Helos gave me was correct.”

“Hmm, I see.” She nodded, not truly worrying or showing any sort of urgency in her voice as Lucia walked to the side of the room. To a table near the laquered wooden door of the room, where a strange box sat upon which Lucia herself picked up. With only a few moments she returned to stand before Ophelia, grinning widely as she placed it on her table.

“Happy birthday.” Lucia simply said.

-

By the time Ophelia had broken out of her reverie, she discovered that the convoy had stopped and that the afternoon had turned to dusk. Gently from her side she could feel a light weight upon her shoulder, spurring her to look to her left only to see Lucia having gently fallen asleep on her. With a light smile she directed her gaze towards Helos, who for the most part was quite awake and seemingly lost in his own thoughts.

“Helos.” She gently says, breaking the old man out of his own reverie and making him look to her. His own gaze was quite perturbing, making her feel utterly uncomfortable due to the simple fact it made him look both happy and displeased at the same time. Though she couldn’t admit it, as it was quite rude given that Helos was born with such a face, if he was to be believed of his own origins.

“Is it not time to set up camp?” At her words Helos nodded vigorously, quickly moving to open the door to her right as he spared a glance to Lucia. Noticing such a look, Ophelia shook her head dismissively, as she didn’t quite mind. This prompted Helos to chuckle as he went out, only to be met by the tall armored form of an equally old man.

“Santander.” Helos says with a grin, gently patting the knight’s shoulder before motioning behind him, to which Ophelia could see a surprising clearing that diverged from the path they took. There from how the land was flattened, with ‘x’ marks on the trees, she could clearly see this was a common resting point in the Dreary Forest.

“Is this place safe?” Helos asked with a raised brow, passing by Santander without letting him answer. Santander himself did not mind, as he knew fully well that the answer was not meant for him, but for the Queen who had no proper knowledge on matters such as this. As such the Knight, a man a decade older than Helos himself bowed before Ophelia, motioning an armored gauntlet towards the clearing.

“The adventurers and our own Knights are now scouting the perimeter. However from the Ranger’s own assessment, this place is safe. As this is the midpoint of the forest, the chances of tainted beasts to attack is low, and bandit attacks even lower as this route is not a popular route for merchants. So rest assured, this place will be a perfect place for us to rest.”

However despite that, Santander did not sound so convinced. A reasonable thing which Ophelia nodded to, before the knight himself closed the door as the coachman began to drive the coach itself into the spacious clearing. Following directly after the carriage of the merchant that headed this very conoy. Once done, Ophelia gently caressed Lucia’s head that still slept on her shoulder.

The very act itself was enough to wake her handmaiden, whose expression was tinged with both a blush and that of embarrassment as she sat up stiffly. With a clear flustered tone she stammered one line out. “A-Ah forgive me my Queen!”

“It’s alright.” Ophelia smiled, softly opening the door of the coach. “We are all tired, I understand that very well considering we’ve been on the run for an entire week. But I must ask of you to do help out with the camp, it embarasses me to no end, but I have little experience in such matters…”

“As you will it my Queen.” Readily Lucia replied, moving first to go out as Ophelia was left with the uncomfortable feeling of shame. For all of her skill in governance and commerce, she herself was lacking in many other fields, which she herself had never considered. Only now however that she was outside of the comfortable walls of her home, that she chided herself for her ignorance, being so shortsighted to believe that she could never need it.

This made her merely sit within the carriage, looking out as soon the other members of the convoy converged within the clearing. There they had set up tents, a fireplace and a defensive perimeter just in case any enemy would dare ambush them. Which she was quite glad for, as she did not wish to see anymore of her own people die, especially when she had so few loyal Royal Guards left.

From where she sat, she clearly saw fourteen people working hard. With her included it’d be fifteen which composed the total number of people for the convoy itself. With six members of the convoy itself belonging to one of her Royal Guards, which had disguised themselves a mercenaries, whilst the rest were adventurers hired by the merchant that headed this convoy.

Though even knowing that, she merely still sat there. Watching and observing the members of the convoy do their part, whilst she herself did nothing. This she didn’t quite like, but could not help but let it slide, for she was a Queen in exile. The less people that knew her look, the less chances would her group be tracked down. Or at least that was according to what Helos told her, with the fact that the Merchant himself was a close friend of Helos himself.

So with nothing better to do, she allowed herself to rest and drift off to a slight sleep. However she did not dream, only being greeted by a deep blackness as the stress of what she had faced finally hit her, or to some extent finally tired her out. This made her merely sleep there, as the camp began to bustle with activity from the other members.

-

When she woke up later, it was not to a serene or lively scene as one might have expected. Instead she woke yo the clamorous sound of blades clashing against one another, followed by cursing and yelling that was met with the sound of magic being cast. Naturally fear overtook her as she shook off the lingering sleepiness one felt when waking up, letting her sit up stiffly as she gazed out of the latticed window.

There she saw a disheartening sight, one that had set a poisonous seed of despair within her heart. For outside upon the clearing that was meant to be safe, she saw the forms of what she could only assume to be bandits. With many of the adventurers laying still on the ground, with only her own Knights and Helos himself battling a hopeless battle, for they were outnumbered.

Yet there she saw her adviser roughly pulling a crude maul from what she saw was a dead adventurer, quickly bringing it aloft and bearing it down upon the foe he fought against. A sickening splat soon followed, as Helos crumpled his foe’s head into a hollow husk as he quickly swung it to his side, causing another bandit to back away so he wouldn’t be hit.

But Helos didn’t care as he merely continued his grin, wielding the maul in reckless abandon as he swung it to the nearest bandit that dared approach him. However as Ophelia continued to look, she clearly saw arrows sticking out of his shoulder and back, with him being assisted by other knights who formed a protective cage to the path that led to her, indicating that they were doing their best to protect her.

“Give it up old man!” A bandit yelled out, emerging from the side as he held a strange war-axe that he easily used to cut a knight’s hand of in one deadly flourish, biting through steel as Helos cursed under his breath.

“Shut it you curr.” In mere moments Helos moved to throw the maul towards the bandit, propelling it with force that his old body shouldn’t have, which took the bandit by surprise. With such an opening the knight whose hand was cut rushed the bandit, forcing him to back away and swing his axe that unfortunately decapitated the knight.

This lowered their total number to five with Helos included, making Ophelia’s heart beat in fear as she realized the true extent of the bandit’s numbers. For all around them, illuminated by not only the campfire on the middle, but also the bright moonlight of the moon, were a multitude of bandits. Clearly numbering more than twenty, which easily explained as to how their numbers were reduced to this much. It made her quickly worry for not only her safety, but for her Lucia and the rest of the convoy’s, even when it was clear that many of their members were already dead.

“I won’t let some bandit scum beat me!” Helos seemingly lost to his rage, or oblivious to the hopelessness of the situation reached out for another weapon, pulling out a beautiful steel longsword that belonged to a corpse. Which was Santander, who laid so pitifully on the ground with an arrow embedded on the back of his head. This made Ophelia’s heart sink more, for this clearly painted a picture without any hope.

“Nah mate, you’re gonna be dead! And all your loot will be ours, and your ladies sold off to slavery. Damn right, sold to slavery! Haha!”

“Shut it man, we aint gonna do that yet. We have to get a taste of them first, plus the Boss was right! This place is bloody good for ambushes!”

With a grin, the bandit that held the strange war-axe moved forward and was met by a knight that raised his shield. However it did nothing as the bandit easily cut through it and soon the knight himself, killing another of her precious warriors. By now she had realized by how casual they acted, and how brazen their words were, that they were purposely playing with the remaining survivors.

“Good for nothing peasants!” Helos’s cry resounded clearly as he wielded the blade he now held, using it to suddenly cut through a bandit that approached from the front. Clearly showing that Helos’s position as an Adviser did not hamper him, or the fact that he had arrows lodged deep into his form. This was followed by the remaining knights moving to attack the bandits that approached, but it was all for naught.

As suddenly and without much warning a hail of spells came from the side, setting Helos and the rest of the knights on fire. Which quickly ended their life as the spells were in the form of elemental javelins, piercing through their chest and subsequently setting them aflame both inside and out. Once this was done, a loud series of laughter came from the bandits as they fully began to move in the camp.

To which Ophelia could do nothing about as she sat within the carriage, a hand covering her mouth as fear fully overtook her. This was a repeat of what happened a week ago, where she despite being a Queen did not have any way to defend or help others, making her utterly useless that wrought further despair within her heart.

“Aight boys, let’s get to work. Get all the important loot, and go cuff the surviving female adventurers, also I want that fancy robe for myself! So no touching!”

“Aye boss, what of that fancy babe?”

“Yeah that fancy babe looked real nice!”

“Don’t bother yet, she’s over at the lake west of here, so we can go and get her. She shouldn’t know that we’ve sacked this group!”

With fear coursing fully in her veins, she was paralyzed by fear as the bandits that seemed to number twenty spread out. They were searching and looting, with her being the witness to their reckless impulses as they did their deed. The bandit that held the strange axe seemed to be the leader, as he directed his other men to go and search the carriages, whilst the rest picked up the surviving adventurers and cuffed them. It was evident that the females were purposely spared, whilst the male were ruthlessly killed.

It was minutes later that a bandit opened up the door to the coach she was on, there she was met by the sight of a foul looking man. Grinning at her with missing teeth and the stench of what either was blood, alcohol or a mixture of both.

“Boss! There’s another one!” He says happily, roughly pulling Ophelia out with her not even having the strength to resist. Outside without the lattice window of her carriage to shield her from what she saw, she clearly was treated to the scene of bloodshed. With many of her former allies being dead, with the merchant himself strewn to the side near the campfire, his head split into two with blood leaking out in excess.

She did not understand how she managed to sleep through such a thing, how she could have easily rested when her comrades died such ignoble deaths. This further shamed her as the bandit leader came over, sneering at her as he set his axe to the side, holding it with one hand as the other went to hold her chin.

“My my, you’re a pretty little sight! You looked like that lassy we saw getting some water from that lake!” The leader himself was quite happy at the sight of her, going so far as to smile as he looked to the bandit that roughly held her. “Good job, I’ll let you have a turn on her after me.”

“Aren’t we gonna sell her off?”

“‘Course we are! We’re just gonna have a little taste you see.” With a perverse grin that caused both fear and disgust to well up in her, Ophelia could only but glare towards him as her mind did not know how to react to such a thing.

“Oh? Nothing to say? That’s… Well, surprising! Usually you posh merchant ladies are really bloody verbose. This is good for all of us then, maybe you are gonna like this too eh?”

Boisterous laughter soon followed as she was then dragged to the side, obviously to be defiled by this foul armored man. All her life as a noble, as a Queen and as an above average ‘mage’, amounted to nothing in this moment, for all she felt was an unnatural fear. A fear so deep that it caused her body to not respond to what she wanted to do.

She wanted to scream, she wanted to try and use what spells she knew. Yet it did not come, even when she so desperately did not want to be this helpless. This entire situation was too surreal, as if it was a damning nightmare. With such a line of thought she forced herself into action, trying to force herself to fully move as the world around her turned silent. A silence that was so unnatural that the very bandit looked confused, not even noticing the fact that she pulled herself away from his grip.

This however made her trip and fall on her behind, bearing witness to the leader yelling something. Though nothing came from his mouth, which made him express a look of confusion as he started yelling again. But once more there was nothing, even her own breathing could not be heard, or the furious beating of her heart, further making her believe this was some sort of vision or vivid nightmare.

Yet it was only the beginning as she began to feel her eardrums hurt, with a sort of white noise rising in volume that further draped her hearing in utter silence. Then it was followed by something that pierced the overbearing silence and white noise, breaking it apart bit by bit, like ripples upon the still surface of a lake, growing in frequency until it became clear to her. Becoming clear to everyone present, that made them slowly turn to the eastern side of the clearing.

It was laughter, a manic laughter that pierced through the silence and white noise. A deep and harsh laugh, that brought sound and madness to the world around them. A laugh that was too deep, too unnatural that it sounded like the rumbling of volcanoes, or the throaty bassy chuckle of a demonic being. Which was then met with the sound of a loud shrill roar.

Followed once more by silence, yet one that was because of a lack of sound from anyone present within the camp. All except for the crackling of the campfire, which was the only source of sound and clear light, that everyone present heard another sound. The clear sound of a liquid dripping on the fire, which caused a sizzling reaction that drew their attention to where it was.

There they saw it. A creature that was wrong in every quality, humanoid and utterly pale that squatted near the campfire. If it could be described by their minds, they could easily say it was ‘humanlike’, yet it was tall, far too tall than any adult male should be. With its form being akin to an emaciated human, letting its unnaturally pronounced and thick bones to be seen pushing against its flesh, with an addition cadaverous quality to it that further made it more unnatural.

But that was only the beginning for it had long, utterly long arms that were tipped with large hands bearing long claw tipped fingers. Which was all paired with an elongated and thick neck, topped by an unnaturally shaped head that had both sunken eyes, a lack of a proper nose, ears or lips and flesh upon its mouth. Which showed its perpetual grinning expression as its jaw opened up so wide, that it seemed to fall off, only for it to let out a long sinuous tongue that dripped with saliva.

One other thing it had, was a torso that it held with one hand lifting it above the campfire. It was that of a male dressed in what could have been mage robes, but now it was covered in blood and torn by claws, whilst the thing spat at the campfire, kicking dirt at it in an attempt to put out the fire. Yet it didn’t quite do it.

This prompted another chilling laughter from the creature, as it found the very act itself to be hilarious. Though the torso that it held had a face of true anguish, ildy twitching as blood slowly dropped from its severed belly, indicating he was still alive for some reason. With a moan from him, he idly spoke in pain as the creature tightened its grip upon his neck.

“H-Help… Me.”

Then abruptly the creature’s other hand gripped the man’s torso, and squeezed tightly that elicited a short scream from him before his remaining blood and organs fell on the fire. Soon followed by him being dropped by the thing, which all led to the fire being put out. In that moment it spoke, with a brief darkness overtaking the entire campsite as laughter came with it.

“Goood… Niiiight!”

With a language that they could not understand, the pale moonlight began to illuminate the creature as it leapt with such an extreme speed, that its target could not react. Its first target, or rather its next target was the bandit leader, who by instinct swung his axe after being broken out of his awe and shock. Yet despite its seemingly potent quality, the creature reached out with one hand and pierced through his chest, cleaving through his armor and body easily while laughing maniacally

That was the start of the true nightmare, as once it took advantage of its unnaturally long arms, it tore the leader in half and savagely threw both pieces of his corpse towards the nearest bandits. The act itself surprisingly killed them, a testament to the extreme strength the being had, which was further shown when it lunged and leapt to more targets. Intent at not only killing them, but eating them.

The bandits however, as Ophelia could see it upon her spot, where overcome with extreme fear upon the sight of the creature. Nearly only a few tried to fight back, and almost all others tried to flee. The former lived for a bit longer, whilst the latter was savagely chased and eviscerated by the creature. All the while laughing happily, as blood and viscera began to be strewn all around the camp itself. Which some had hit Ophelia herself, dirtying her look and dress.

It was an unimaginably horrific sight, as seconds was all it took for the creature to turn the bandit’s victory into a total nightmare. With many of them dying in the most gruesome ways, which was shown when the thing deliberately crippled a bandit and proceeded to bite down on his neck, eating through the muscle and flesh before outright devouring the skull.

Another instance of such gruesome brutality was when it took a hold of a burly bandit, one that had successfully stabbed a sword through the creature’s shoulder which it ignored. For such an act it forcibly opened the bandit’s mouth, and proceeded to rip apart his mouth and tearing off the jaw of the man, only for it to pummel it with decisive strikes upon the belly. All of which was clearly meant to make them suffer.

All around her, as the seconds turned to minutes, brutality was all she could see. It was remarkable, awe inspiring and nightmare inducing all bundled up in one neat package, that her mind was surprisingly able to retain her sanity as she viewed such an act. One could so easily assume that it was because the bandits killed her allies, which was true in a way, but it was also because she found the very sight of such disgusting people being killed to be… Strangely and surprisingly pleasant. Which drove her to watch.

Even when the creature itself was eating the parts and chunks of the bandits it killed, all until one was left. Which it had purposely cut off his legs, letting him bleed out as he tried to crawl away from it. There she saw it, upon its yellow eyes a glint of intelligence and madness. Where it followed behind the final bandit, picking up a piece of flesh from the floor, before madly reaching out and picking up the bandit himself.

In mere moments Ophelia saw it forcibly feeding the piece of flesh it picked up, forcing it upon the mouth of the bandit as another series of laughter overcame such a being. Here and now, she found it absolutely terrifying, for it was not merely doing this for survival, it was doing this for amusement, for fun and pleasure. Which it so easily did. It was evil, that she knew, but she did not nothing but watch.

Once he had sufficiently fed the survivor, he placed him back on the floor. Where it examined his look, laughing again as it saw him crying, vomiting and shaking in both disgust and fear. Followed by it simply curb stomping the poor man, over and over, using enough force to break the bones on his back, but not killing him. Letting the clearing resound with bones breaking and the weeping of a man, as the smell of blood and flesh permeated the entire place.

Then finally with an abrupt pause, it brought down one powerful stomp that practically squashed the man’s entire chest, spilling out both guts and blood to the soil. It was there that it paused, looking down at what it did before it once more laughed. It found it so funny, so amusing, that Ophelia knew very well that it did not find regret in its actions, nor could it ever have mercy within it. As she knew very well that she was next, for the thing slowly looked towards her.

Looking at her with those sunken yellow eyes, it laughed again. It constantly did this, finding these horrible things it did to be funny. Before it slowly reached out for the head of the bandit he recently killed. But when she looked to what it was reaching for, it wasn’t the head, but rather what was on top of the head. A sort of… Hat, a hat most commonly found on the eastern countries of Asjen, a hat of the nobility which was a tricorn-like hat.

Once it had reached it, it plucked it from the head and crudely put it on its own head, which was a bit bigger than the intended size of the hat. Yet it achieved it, and with what could be described as a mocking attempt at a formal bow, with it tipping the tip of the hat down as it spoke.

“M’lady.”

Though she herself could not understand it, as the creature broke out into another series of laughter. Before it abruptly went quiet, turning its gaze to the western side of the clearing, where Ophelia herself saw Lucia. The poor handmaiden of hers was holding an iron pale in both hands, which she dropped on the ground in clear fear. It was a surprise on its own that she didn’t fall down in shock, yet the beast didn’t care as it turned to look at its handiwork.

There it began the process of picking up corpses, which it soon carried into the forest. Ophelia didn’t notice it at that time, but it had purposely spared the survivors of her convoy, yet it took the corpses of Helos, Santander and all the others that were whole.

-

Gently the vision of the Venator faded, as the thought of his bore into the proto-aberration, telling it to gather the corpses which it needed for consumption and assimilation. For in the days that he had directly controlled his aberrant creations, he had come to the conclusion that he needed a means to create more. In the sense that not only could he reliably create more, but also design the Aberrations, to edit their genetic coding and very behaviors.

This he couldn’t do properly, for he did not know how. But there was the idea of how to do it, and it involved the creation of a ‘Designer’. An Aberration which had its purpose of creating, designing and modifying the Aberrations of his, as for all he knew, simply willing something to change within his aberrations was stupid. Not to mention unreliable in the extreme, for not only is his own mutations born out randomly, but his existing Aberrations was created without his input!

As such the necessity of such a Designer was so great, that he had by his own judgement, controlled the Venator to venture out of Malvirek’s deadly forests. In search for… Humans, which it found a week later in the form of bandits attacking what he knew to be a merchant convoy. Though he did not ponder upon what he had just did, the very fact that not only did he kill humans, but enjoyed it. This he did not allow himself to dwell upon, as there was a lingering feeling of joy to the act of slaughter and consumption he had just partook in.

Or rather, the act of slaughter which the Venator partook in. In any case, it was still him, controlling the Venator, becoming the Venator, and fully immersing himself in such a thing. Though this line of thought was broken by a gentle kiss on his cheek, breaking him out of his meditative trance and letting him see the smiling face of Salia.

“You’re drooling.” She says with a soft laugh, a sort of handkerchief was on her hand that she used to softly wipe away the saliva that dripped out from his lips. “Are you hungry?”

“Ah… No, just erm, I fell asleep.” Hastily he gave an excuse, for he did not wish for her to know that he found the act of eating humans to be… Delicious. Which in of itself should have perturbed him, yet it did not due to his apparent mutation and descent into inhumanity.

With such a reply, Salia merely nodded and offered a hand which he took. Letting her help him up stand as his scythes unfurled and rested its tips on the wooden floor, before his better half softly motioned to the door into this very room. There he saw something surprising, something peculiar, and strangely familiar. For upon the door frame, was a being of flame and silver metal, a being that looked upon him with fiery eyes that made him tense up in instinct.

“Little Brother.” The being said with a voice that was neither man nor woman, yet both at the same time, holding barely restrained excitement as it took a step forward. “It is time for you to understand your place as a Lord. It is pleasant to finally meet you, successor of Centerious. I shall hope that you prove your worth to me.”

“Who… Are you?” In confusion and uncertainty, Benedict asked such a question as he felt an unusual bout of familiarity. Which was perhaps due to the fact that this person of fire and metal, was akin to the Seekers that tried to kill him, but also far different and more refined.

“I am the Second Lord, I am the bloodlust of our people made manifest. I am the savage joy hidden within the civilized masks of our kind. I am the Warborn, and I shall be one of your mentors.”