Rise of the Faceless Demon

The Oesterian forest rejected life outright.

The pine trees here did not shed leaves. Their trunks blackened pitch-dark, resembling cast iron corpse-burning pillars. The bark died, dried, then hardened into rough fossils. They grew elongated, deformed. Too gaunt. Too tall. The leafless branches curved wildly, lacking direction as they crawled and crossed each other overhead, resembling millions of rotting human skeleton fingers desperately begging for a drop of light from the Red Ring Sun.

Thick fog pooled knee-high. The cold smoke smelled of mine metal and old blood.

Luka's leather boots stepped down on the forest floor.

Crack.

The sound slit the ears. The pine needles covering the dirt did not rustle like dry leaves. They had petrified, absorbing rust from the air and shattering with a sharp crunch like a sea of glass shards when stepped on.

Luka walked, piercing the fog. The wind blew, striking the dead trunks. This forest responded with the friction of dry wood colliding. A noisy clatter. The sound of thousands of jawbones chewed by force. The noise echoed constantly, torturing hearing limits and ruining mental balance.

Hunger.

The cavity beneath his solar plexus kicked feral. The energy reserve from the soldier's heart he ate two nights ago had burned out by erosion. His arm muscles began losing density. The cold crept back piercing his vessels. He needed fuel. His flesh demanded a new sacrifice to maintain sanity.

Rhea stepped two paces behind him. The maid's gray wool dress swept the fog lacking sound. The lily scent from her body fought hard against the forest's foul stench, serving as the sole marker that Luka did not walk alone in this hell.

"No animals," Luka growled low. His voice was hoarse and dusty.

"This nature withholds its nutrients, My Lord." Rhea's voice flowed flat from behind his back. "The hunted game here eats toxic dirt. Their flesh is gaunt and pale. Their hearts lack the strength to ignite the hearth in your veins."

Luka halted his steps. His left hand raised. Signaling his maid to stay silent.

The sound of crying shattered the branch clatter.

Broken. Trembling. Heart-wrenching. The wail of a mother losing a child, followed by the heavy groan of a man with a slit throat. Two vocal cords overlapping. The sound came from behind a limestone mound ahead of them.

Luka lowered his body posture. His right hand gripped the rusted sword hilt at his waist. He stepped forward without lifting his shoe soles, avoiding the friction of rust needles on the dirt. He peeked from behind the stone edge.

His breath hitched.

The creature crawled on four broken, curving limbs. Its spine protruded piercing the gray skin wet with slime. Its face lacked a nose, only an expanse of pale skin with two black voids where eyes should be. Its mouth tore severe reaching the ear limits.

The creature wept. Groans and roars of despair poured constant from its throat.

Yet, behind that sorrowful sound, its actions contrasted sharp. Both its unnatural elongated hands gripped the carcass of a white fox. Its filthy fingers tore the animal's skin. The creature shoved raw meat chunks into its torn mouth. Chewing rough. Fox blood dripped heavy soaking the frozen dirt. The wails of grief and the sound of chewing bones merged sickening the ears.

"The Shattered," Rhea whispered from the darkness behind him.

Luka turned his head a fraction.

"They were once human," Rhea continued low. "Border commoners trying to survive by devouring hearts, yet failing to master Soul Energy. Their vessels shattered. Their minds burned to ash. Leaving an endless hunger and a sorrow torturing their own veins."

Luka's gut twisted hard.

Not from disgust. The metallic tang of the fox blood instead flooded his mouth with saliva. Yet, a hard rejection existed inside his head. This creature was human. A victim.

His wrath locked straight onto one scapegoat. Ulric. His uncle let his people starve. Let them despair until they swallowed hearts lacking guidance, turning them defective and rotting in this forest. This was the product of the tyrant's greed. Tangible proof that the Eisenhart kingdom was dying under a traitor's leadership.

His hands trembled demanding retribution. If this creature was once his people, then letting it live in this defective sorrow was a sin. He had to liberate it. He had to tear the creature's neck to end its suffering. Saliva dripped at the corner of his lips, yet his ego refused to call it an animal's hunger. This was a call for justice. He was the prince who would liberate his people.

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"Stay behind," Luka commanded.

He stepped out from the limestone mound. His boots stepped on the rust needle pile on purpose.

Crack.

The creature stopped chewing. Its empty eye sockets darted fast toward the sound. Its wails hardened. The fox carcass dropped to the mud. The defective body shot forward. Fast. Pure feral. Its long nails scavenged the frozen dirt, launching sharp stone fragments into the air. Its mouth opened wide revealing rows of yellow teeth.

Luka drew his rusted sword. The old metal hissed.

He pivoted his right heel. Pulling his shoulders back. Spine straightened firm. Sword raised parallel to the jawline. TheRoyal Eisenhart stance. A noble execution position to eliminate threats from an ideal distance. He would slash this creature with one lethal swing.

The Shattered lunged. Claws smeared in fox blood swung toward Luka's face.

Luka slashed. A straight crossing trajectory.

Pain. The veins in his wrist twisted by force. His collarbone refused to rotate. The royal technique once again tore his muscle tissues from the inside. His swing lagged. The rusted sword tip failed to cleave the neck, only scratching rough the creature's gray skin shoulder. Black blood spurted.

Luka's stance shattered.

The creature's shoulder struck Luka's chest dead center. Luka's ribs crunched, enduring the impact weight. His body launched backward, his back slamming hard into the black pine trunk behind him. The petrified bark pierced through his cloak, scratching his back skin. Air was pushed out by force from his lungs.

The Shattered granted no pause. The creature charged again, its torn mouth opening wide, aiming for Luka's neck. Its wails deafened the ears. The foul stench of animal carcass stung the nose.

Luka raised his sword flat horizontally, blocking the creature's jaw.

Yellow teeth clashed with rusted iron. Thick saliva dripped, soaking Luka's glove. Luka's arm muscles trembled hard. This monster's strength breached the limits of reason, the pressure threatening to snap his hand bones. Luka thrashed. His flesh rejected the upright posture. Noble stances proved utterly useless against street savagery.

The bite on his lip dripped fresh blood.

To hell with palace grace.

Luka released the block without warning, shifting his sword hilt to the side.

The Shattered's head slipped, falling and striking empty air. The creature's balance was ruined. Luka pulled his right knee, kicking the creature's gray gut dead center with his steel boot tip. A filthy kick. Centered on a weak point.

The creature launched to the dirt, vomiting black fluid.

Luka lunged forward. He discarded all his remaining upright posture, his back hunching low. He twisted his sword from below, aiming for the creature's groin joint. The filthy slash of a hunted beast.

Rusted iron pierced pale flesh, severing the creature's leg veins straight to the pelvis bone.

The Shattered collapsed onto the rust needle pile, its wails turning into a long howl. Luka did not stop. He stomped the monster's back with his shoe sole, locking its movement to the dirt. Both his hands raised the rusted iron sword high, plunging it straight down and severing the back of the creature's neck.

The crunch of a breaking jawbone ended the wail.

Black blood spurted soaking Luka's boots and trousers. The creature went limp, dead.

Luka stood wiping his face hit by the filthy splash. His breaths roared hunting oxygen intake. He stared at the gray carcass beneath his feet. His hands were smeared in filth. Yet his gut kicked harder. He knelt, tearing the creature's chest by force. He wrenched the heart muscle lump still beating slow. Biting it greedy. Swallowing it rough.

Heat crawled brief in his chest. Yet it was not enough. This Shattered's heart was too ruined. Too filthy to ignite the hearth foundation in his veins. His hunger remained unsatisfied.

A massive clatter cleaved the fog in the forest depths.

The black pine trees shook. Their iron trunks creaked scraping against each other. The sound of heavy footsteps struck the frozen dirt, creating vibrations crawling straight to Luka's shoe soles.

Luka turned his head. His eyes narrowed sharp piercing the rust-scented fog.

From behind the red darkness, a giant shadow crawled forward. Its size triple a normal human body. A defective meat lump revealed itself. Not a single intact form. Dozens of human arms of various sizes protruded from the sides of its body, gripping tree trunks to pull its weight forward. Pale faces melting into one at its top kept groaning in despair, overlapping, producing a mass crying harmony vibrating the inside of the head.

Shattered Amalgam.

Luka swallowed the blood in his mouth. The monster did not come empty-handed. One of its massive arms dragged by force the body of another Shattered thrashing weak. In the center of the Amalgam's meat lump, a giant mouth full of serrated teeth opened. Shoving its prey's arm alive and chewing it. The prey's scream vanished into the sickening crunch of bones.

A monster devouring monsters.

Rhea's boots shifted backward. The woman produced no sound. Her body retreated, hiding her pale face into the shadow of the nearest pine tree. Letting her prince stand alone facing death.

Luka twisted the rusted sword hilt in his hand.

Tremors of fear crawled in his shins, yet the hunger in his gut ruled absolute. His flesh demanded energy intake from the giant creature's core heart. His wrath locked onto the monster's neck. Inside his head, letting this defective creature keep consuming victims was a sin he had to stop. This was his path of vengeance. He would not run.

His legs lowered. The street dog stance set flawless. Luka shot forward charging the fog, sprinting straight bringing the rusted iron toward the giant human-slaughtering meat lump.

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