Outside the village, standing in the middle of the clearing, Astaroth was coming back to. Gäap had stayed true to his word, and given back control to him, without fuss or resistance.
Looking around himself, Astaroth's stomach almost emptied instantly. Blood.
Blood everywhere.
Looking down at his hands, the vibrant red colour going from the tip of his fingers, up halfway on his forearm, made him pale.
"What the fuck happened?"
Astaroth wasn't weak-stomached, by any measure. But this was a lot.
On the ground before him, the still twitching body of the demon leader, his HP zeroed out, eyes flipped to the back of his head, face still stuck in a rictus of horror and pain.
Calling it a body was stretching it, though. Whatever was left of flesh and bone, held together by thread width, his body looking like a Gatling gun had shot at it with small cannon balls.
