Rise of the Faceless Demon

His left arm bone exploded.

The crunch of calcium drowned the rumble of dripping cave water. Luka's pale skin tore from the inside. Brick-red muscle fibers protruded ferally, swallowing the wrist and crawling up to pierce the shoulder that moments ago dislocated from its hinge. His ulna bone elongated by force, piercing the flesh and forming a serrated bone sword blade merging whole with his anatomy.

Heat roasted the air. Luka's blood evaporated into a red fog smelling of scorched copper.

Inside his head, the screams of Brog's remaining soul were crushed. The Slaughterhouse gate opened wide. The void demanded a sacrifice.

A memory burned to ash.

Luka tried remembering his mother's face. The woman's smile. The sound of her lullaby at the edge of the bed. Nothing. The face melted into a pile of filthy wax. Her voice turned into the hum of dead bees. Gone. The Law of Erosion collected its toll. His humanity scraped one layer deeper. The sensation of loss tore the contents of his chest, leaving the pure instinct of a butcher.

He cared not. His gut kicked ferally. He only needed blood.

Silas twirled his spectral sword. Dull white light cut through the phosphor-moss room. The crow monster shot forward. The dark metal tip aimed for Luka's exposed neck.

Luka did not evade. He crossed both his mutated arms upward. The rusted sword in his right hand and the bone blade in his left formed a protective cross shield.

CLANG!

The energy clash shattered the limestone floor. An ankle-deep crater formed beneath Luka's boots. Filthy water puddles and stone fragments flew into the air. Brutal vibrations crawled, ruining the nerves, yet halted completely by the density of scaled red flesh.

Luka withstood the impact. His mutated muscles throbbed, pumping predator strength. He growled, pushing Silas's sword upward and breaking the syndicate leader's stance.

Luka charged. His bone blade slashed horizontally, cutting the wind.

Silas jumped backward, flapping the stunted wings at his elbows to extend distance. His bird legs landed lightly atop a fallen stalagmite pillar. His eyeless beak opened wide. Black slime dripped heavily.

The monster vomited weapons again.

Three rusted throwing axes shot out. Fired straight from Silas's inner throat. Lethal projectiles piercing the fog.

Luka twisted his waist. He parried the first axe with his right sword. Evaded the second with a rough duck. The third axe scratched deep into his right ribs. Blood splashed soaking the floor. He ignored it. The pain had died burned by wrath. His boots struck the water puddle, sprinting straight crashing into the filthy metal rain.

Silas vomited a barbed chain.

The long iron full of sharp hooks swept the air. Targeting Luka's legs.

Luka ducked. Reaching out his right hand. His red-scaled fingers caught the shooting chain in the air. Iron barbs embedded into his palm. Blood seeped. He did not let go. He wrapped the chain around his arm, then yanked it with all his might.

Silas's footing wavered. The syndicate leader's gaunt body pulled rough from atop the stalagmite. Flying falling uncontrolled toward Luka.

Luka welcomed him with a swing from below. The bone blade of his left arm tore the air.

The calcium blade struck Silas's chest. Cleaving the black leather coat. Tearing the pale flesh behind it. Thick blood spurted.

Silas shrieked hoarse. His bone beak creaked enduring pain. Mid-fall, the defective man kicked Luka's face with his crow leg. A black nail sharp as a dagger scratched Luka's temple. Tearing the gauze wrapping half his face. The filthy cloth severed. Falling to the floor.

Luka's true face exposed beneath the phosphor glow. Pale. Jawline tensed. Thick jagged stitches protruding crawling from neck to crown.

This story has been stolen from NovelPhoenix. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

Luka stepped back one pace. Spitting blood mixed with saliva to the stone floor.

Silas landed with knees bent. The syndicate leader's breaths roared broken. Blood dripped heavy staining the floor beneath his open chest. The pure arrogance on that pale face cracked. The remnants of panic crawled up replacing arrogance.

"You are no human," Silas hissed. His voice lost its demeaning tone.

Luka did not answer. He attacked.

The butcher's rampage. Not knightly techniques taught in the palace courtyard. This was the savagery of a street dog cornered in a dead-end alley. Left. Right. Thrust. Spinning slash. He punched, kicked, tore. Every time Silas tried parrying with his spectral sword, Luka used his other arm to ruin the man's balance point.

Silas pushed backward. His movement space narrowed. The crow monster twirled his sword trying to find a gap, yet Luka's rhythm was too wild. Devoid of readable patterns. The boy was willing to sacrifice a scratch on his own shoulder just to embed his knee into Silas's gut.

Silas's steps halted. The defective man's back struck his own scrap throne. The pile of rusted swords and holed shields crunched loud.

Luka slammed his shoulder. Striking Silas's chest with full weight.

Crash.

Silas launched hard. His back struck the throne seat. Old weapons behind his chair pierced his leather cloak.

Luka locked his prey's movement. He raised the rusted sword in his right hand, plunging it to pierce Silas's left shoulder and nailing the man to the throne metal. In that exact second, the bone blade in his left arm thrust dead center into Silas's right thigh.

The crow monster roared. Black blood flooded the throne. His beak opened extremely wide, trying to vomit one finishing weapon from the bottom of his throat. The scent of nausea stung.

Luka ducked. He leaned his body forward. His teeth embedded into the base of Silas's bone beak, biting it with the jaw strength of a wild beast, then yanking it by force.

The crack of bone echoed. Silas screamed, muffled by the blood pooling in his throat. His attempt to vomit a weapon died instantly.

The massive hall froze in horror.

In the dark corners of the cave, the assassins stood petrified.

Vance with his shark jaw. Lysandra hiding her dagger. Merrik atop a stone protrusion. Their breaths held. Their eyes recorded the slaughter. Their brains, accustomed to neat silent kills, paralyzed by psychological terror.

The sight before them was not merely a power struggle. It was an execution of dominance.

The air inside the cave felt freezing. The phosphor moss humidity could no longer mask the metallic tang pressing the spectators' chest cavities. Silas was a monster who led them with terror for years. Yet the defective-faced boy before them crushed that terror with something far darker.

Rhea stood leaning against the cave wall. Free from Vance's grip whose muscles went limp from horror. The maid's gray eyes stared straight toward the throne. A faint smile carved on her pale face. Her plan hatched. Her prince had embraced the darkness.

Luka released his bite. Spitting the remaining blood onto Silas's chest.

He stared into the pupilless pale eyes before him. Devoid of mercy. His ego swallowed the remaining empathy. This defective man deserved to die. This was the punishment for those who demeaned his kingdom's name.

Luka's right hand released the rusted sword hilt embedded in Silas's shoulder. The red-scaled fingers now free. His monster flesh twitched hot, demanding payment for the wounds scratching his body throughout this night.

Luka pulled his right arm slightly back. Targeting Silas's left chest already torn by his slash earlier.

He punched straight forward.

His hard fingers pierced Silas's pale skin. Crushing the ribcage protecting the vital organ. The sound of tearing flesh sickened the ears. His hand plunged deep into the syndicate leader's chest cavity. Touching something solid, slimy, and beating fast.

Heart.

Luka gripped the organ. Yanking it out with one feral pull.

Major blood vessels severed. Silas spasmed rigid for one final second. His beak opened soundless. His pale head then drooped broken to the side. His monster hands and legs went totally limp. Death fetched the Echo Ruler atop his own throne.

Luka stood straight challenging the rest of the room.

The adult-fist-sized black heart rested in his right palm. Throbbing slow spewing dense smoke. Extremely massive Soul Energy radiated from the organ. Tempting the red veins in his arm to immediately absorb it into the Slaughterhouse.

Yet Luka held back that parasite instinct.

He did not let the vein roots in his arm absorb the heart like when he killed the monsters in the forest. He had thousands of pairs of assassin eyes watching him in silence. Absorbing energy through the skin was not enough to carve permanent fear in their brains. He had to display his food chain position explicitly. He had to prove who the apex predator on this mountain was.

Luka turned his back to the metal throne.

Facing all corners of the phosphor-moss hall. Under the gazes of Vance, Lysandra, and the assassins hiding in the darkness. His bare face full of stitches and blood splashes radiated an aura of death.

He raised the still-throbbing black heart slowly, bringing it near his face. Thick blood dripped, soaking his chin and neck.

Luka opened his jaw wide, biting the raw slimy organ before them all and chewing pure dominance over the corpse of the old king.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!