"It's cold."
A quivering young boy's voice broke the silence that had plagued the cold, dark room for hours. The boy squinted into the darkness, but it was too thick, swallowing everything except the vague shapes scattered across the floor. He did not want to know what they were. The stench told him enough, thick and suffocating, a sickly mix of decay and something metallic.
He believed he could discern an entrance in the corner, but it wouldn't matter. Chains bound him to the wall, restricting his movement. A voice beside him cried, "Where is Mel? I..."
The owner's voice cracked, breaking into a sob as he clung to the girl sitting between them. His sudden outburst startled the youngest, and she, too, began to cry. The two younger children clung to each other, their small bodies trembling, their muffled sobs filling the space around them. Desperate for comfort, they turned to the older boy, seeking comfort in his presence. For hours, they wept, their tears blending into one another's shoulders, their grief stretching through the night.
He wanted to comfort them but knew his words would be hollow. Terrified they might not be saved from this horrific place, his body began to tremble profusely. He sat on the cold, damp floor. The boy clutched the two younger children to him, trying to warm them with his body, though he knew they were just as cold as he was. Will we be saved? Mel would come and save us, the boy thought. Won't you save us, Captain?
The door burst open without warning, and their cries for help immediately ceased as light flooded the dark room. Their eyes, long accustomed to the darkness, now recoiled from the blinding light, and intense pain shot through them. As shadowy figures peeked into the room, several voices could be heard, and the children huddled silently, hoping to avoid their attention.
It was their kidnappers. Quivering in the corner, they watched as two cloaked figures dragged a body to the center of the room. A third figure followed, shutting the door behind him. The children watched desperately, but as the door slammed shut, any hope of escape vanished. The poor lighting and their hooded faces made identification impossible, and the boy abandoned any hope of recognizing their kidnappers.
One of the cultists chuckled, asking the others, "What type of face do you think those temple bastards will make when they see what we summoned?"
Another laughed. "I hope they piss themselves in fear!"
Their third snapped at them, "Pay attention! We cannot mess this up. We have one chance, and if we fail, we will never hear the end of this from the high one."
The first cultist dropped the body he was dragging to the center of the room and asked, "Why can't we just use the three over there if we mess up?"
He gestured towards the three children huddled in the corner. They shrank back, hugging each other tightly, desperate to disappear. The thought of sharing their friend's fate paralyzed them with fear. It was only a matter of time.
The third cultist waved a finger, exclaiming, "We have one chance to summon a great one to achieve our goals! If we screw it up, who knows how long it will take to gather enough blood for something like this again. Three kids won't cut it. Though," he added with a chilling smirk, "they will make for amusing playthings."
Listening to their conversation, the eldest boy's gaze swept the room, and horror filled him as he saw the large, summoning circle of blood on the freezing floor.
The younger boy tried to lift his head, but the older one held him down, knowing he would panic if he realized what was around them. Letting out a prayer, the older boy hoped for a savior. "Judex Divinum, please save us..."
"SHUT UP, KID!" one of the cultists roared, interrupting the boy's prayer. "Your prayers are worthless here."
"Just stop already," another sneered. "We have a job to do."
As the cultists prepared for their next ritual, a cloaked figure from another realm traversed an empty plain, ending his journey at a weathered stone well. A storm rumbled in the distance behind the figure. He glanced back, seeing nothing but the wind whipping through the tall yellow grass. As the wind raged around him, he remained unconcerned, his pure white cloak flapping viciously in the strong current. For a brief moment, the wind lifted the hood, revealing a smile on the figure's face.
"Oh, Judex Divinum," he murmured, "a storm approaches, a dark one. It will either tear the world you adore apart or breathe new meaning into its existence. But I doubt these mortals can overcome such a wicked existence. Yet, you have a plan, and how grand it is."
Thunder roared as a thick cloud began to take shape. The figure peered over the side of the well, gazing into the black liquid bubbling within. Inside the liquid, an image flickered to life, a small child silently praying in a dark room. As the image sharpened, the figure saw two more children huddled beside the one praying.
The figure frowned. "Lord Judex Divinum, let us use this one, if any, for your plan. The child calls out your name and pleads for salvation."
Suddenly, the image shifted. An ogre's figure filled the well, gnawing on a chunk of purplish meat. Its humanoid muscular body lay relaxed on a cushion, its four arms sprawled out lazily with a remote control sitting in one of its four hands as it flipped through channels on a flickering television screen. The ogre groaned, its voice a low rumble of boredom.
"Ah," the figure whispered, a knowing smile on his face. "I see now, Father. I see the answer."
Circling the summoning ritual, the three cultists began chanting in a language unknown to the children. As their incantation finished, the third cultist let out a triumphant laugh.
"Finally!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with excitement, "We can have our revenge on the Temple! We will be free!"
The large summoning circle etched onto the floor pulsed with a deep, blood-red light. Within its grasp, nine arcane symbols surrounded a covered inverted star. There, a lifeless body lay sprawled, blood oozing from its wounds and staining the floor. As the chanting resumed, flames erupted from the circle, casting dancing shadows on the walls.
"Together," their voices merged into a single, chilling chorus, "we will bring back the night that will liberate our souls! The master sits chained upon his throne! Lord of the Night, accept this child we offer you, a child of the so-called God of man. We welcome the demons who yearn for their master's return! Through this sacrifice, we open a passage for you!"
The three younger children, huddled in the corner, began to sob uncontrollably. It was simply too much for them to bear. The eldest boy gripped them tightly, his own heart pounding with terror as he watched the cultists' frenzied dance.
"Lord Beelzebub," they cried, their voices rising into a pleading shout, "show us the path! The path to freedom! Reward us with your child so that we may seek vengeance!"
Suddenly, a voice cut through the chaos unlike any they had ever heard. It was a voice of pure harmony, beautiful and soothing, each word a melodic note. The voice filled the room, captivating the cultists and offering a strange comfort to the terrified children. Yet, beneath the beauty, there was an undeniable authority, a power that sent shivers down their spines.
"In a world that has lost its hope," the voice resonated, its source unseen.
The circle flickered, and the blood-red flames were consumed by a blinding white fire. With a resounding crash, the door slammed shut, plunging the room into an eerie white light.
"At a time when Judex Divinum seems to have forgotten his people," the voice continued echoing in the sudden silence.
The white fire intensified. Its brilliance washed away all color from the room, leaving only black and white silhouettes. Confusion rippled through the cultists. They stumbled forward, their eyes wide with disbelief. This was not part of the ritual.
"The Lord of all that is created gifts you an answer. So comes Asura, Mad Dog of the Great King."
A pool of black tar consumed the child's body in the center of the circle. It bubbled and churned, a living entity. The tar rose, forming a pillar in the center of the room. From the sludge, a slimy figure began to emerge. Four muscular arms erupted from the liquid, tearing at the viscous prison, desperate to break free.
The farthest cultist cried out, "Thank you, great demon, for hearing our cries! Free us from the Temple!"
A muscular arm reached out from the pillar. The cultists erupted in cheers. This was it! This was their moment of triumph! But then, the black hand shot out, seizing the nearest cultist by the face.
"What—" the cultist began, his words abruptly cut off as the hand tightened its grip, squeezing mercilessly. He grasped at the arm, his cries of pain echoing through the chamber.
As the figure solidified, the other cultists stared in horror. It had black skin and eyes like voids, each containing a single, malevolent white iris that glowed in the darkness. One of the cultists began to back away, his fear consuming him with shock. "Why are you...?" his companion started to ask but trailed off, his gaze drawn to the figure.
Its blazing eyes were locked on them, burning with hatred and resentment. What have we done? They wondered, their blood turning to ice. We brought him here! He should be overjoyed!
The cultist trapped in the figure's grasp writhed in agony, his struggles growing weaker. Finally, the figure fully emerged from the tar. It resembled a teenager of below-average height but with four arms and straight horns protruding from his forehead before his short black hair. His body was toned and muscular, like a seasoned warrior... and he was completely naked. He stood motionless, surveying the room with an eerie calm that sent shivers down the cultists' spines. A terrible realization dawned on them: they had summoned something they could not control.
"Oi," the figure snarled, his voice dripping with disdain, "who are you calling a demon?"
Without hesitation, he slid his hand from the cultist's face to his throat, lifting him effortlessly off the ground. The cultist's eyes bulged, his hands clawing at the figure's arm as he gasped for air. Then, with a brutal twist, the figure choke slammed him to the ground. The sickening crunch of bones echoed through the chamber. The figure smiled, a chilling expression of satisfaction spreading across his face.
"The name is Asura," he growled, his voice laced with fury. "Not a demon, you racist assholes."
Without warning, Asura lunged at the next cultist, slamming him into the wall with bone-jarring force. The last cultist watched in terror as his companion crumpled against the stone, the sickening sound of shattering bones echoing through the chamber. He was next. He turned to look at the wall, now splattered with his friend's blood.
Asura, his eyes burning with rage, turned his attention to the remaining cultist. The man, his face pale with fear, fell to his knees and begged for mercy.
"Please spare us!" he pleaded, his voice trembling. "You're our savior! Free us from the Temple!"
Asura stood over him, unmoved by his pleas. He surveyed the dimly lit room, its gruesome details all too familiar from the torture scenes he had witnessed on television. Hooks dangled from the ceiling, each suspending a lifeless corpse. Now flickering with dying flames, the summoning circle dominated the center of the room. But what truly ignited his fury were the children, chained and cowering in the corner. His face contorted in disgust, and he clenched his teeth, his voice a low growl.
"You summoned me with a child?" he spat, his words laced with venom. "You used a child? What the fuck is wrong with you? Little kids can't even defend themselves. Demons suck, but you all are far worse."
He charged forward, his foot connecting with the cultist's head with a sickening crack. The man's body slumped to the ground, lifeless. But Asura's rage was not yet sated. He grabbed the corpse, lifting it high above his head before slamming it onto the ground repeatedly, mangling it beyond recognition. Finally, he tossed the mutilated body aside, his voice filled with disgust.
"That's what you scummy worms get."
The children watched, their eyes wide with terror, as Asura unleashed his fury. They couldn't help but scream as he approached, their voices raw with fear.
"Don't eat us!" the eldest pleaded, his voice cracking. "Please!"
Asura frowned, looking down at the terrified children. "Hey, kids, I'm not going to eat you. I know I look scary, but..."
A cold draft blew through the room, and Asura shivered. He glanced down and realized with horror that he was completely naked. His face flushed, and he quickly turned away, hoping the children hadn't noticed.
"Shit! Uh, hold on, I'll be right back..." he mumbled, embarrassed. He quickly located the door and darted out to search the building for clothes that might fit.
To his surprise, the building turned out to be small. He entered the living room, surprised by the spotless furniture. Chairs, couches, a coffee table, and two glass cabinets with decorative plates were lined up next to a television. To his right, a spotless kitchen adjoined the living room. The atmosphere of the house struck Asura as strange. It was too clean, almost creepily, as if it were meant to be a display rather than a comfortable home.
Unable to find anything, Asura grew increasingly frustrated, aggressively slamming doors open. "Finally!" he exclaimed as he threw open the last door and saw a bedroom.
The bedroom was unkempt, with trash scattered across the floor. A moldy, sickening aroma filled the air, making Asura's nose wrinkle in disgust. For a second, he thought it might be lingering from the corpses, but the scattered rotting dishes told a different story. It was hard to believe someone could live in such filth.
He dashed to a dresser, throwing open the drawers. A sigh of relief escaped his lips as he found a deep blue hoodie with a small logo and some sweatpants with a white stripe. He quickly pulled them on, struggling briefly with the hoodie before ripping two holes in the side to accommodate his extra arms.
Dressing proved more challenging than dealing with the cultists, and Asura chuckled. Then, his mind returned to the children, who sat alone and afraid.
"Alright, that's better," he said before returning to the torture chamber.
In a hurry, he raced back, finding them still huddled in the corner, trembling. Their eyes were scarred with fear as he approached. Slowly, he sat on the floor before them like an animal, trying not to startle their prey. At first, he averted his eyes, but as they returned to the children, his gaze met with the oldest.
"Um... Look, I'm not gonna hurt you. My name's Asura. I mean, I like to fight and beat people up. Killing is the result half the time, but... Wait, I shouldn't be saying this." He rambled, "I don't pick fights with little kids, though. Those pieces of shit shouldn't have summoned me with your friend."
Asura folded his hands, rubbing them together awkwardly. "Uh... How'd you guys get here?"
The young girl cried, shielding her face with the younger boy's arm and burying her face in his chest. Asura frowned, wondering what horrors they had endured in this torturous place.
The oldest boy suddenly stood before the others, trying to muster his courage before the beast before him, but his shaky voice betrayed his fear. "You're really not going to eat us?"
Asura smiled, leaning back on his lower two arms. "Nah, I like you guys. Eating people ain't my thing. Like I said, I like fighting, not killing. I promise I'm not gonna hurt you. Judex would smite me down if I did."
"Um, my name's M-m-Marco," the oldest boy stammered. "We, uh, we got here from being taken by them." His voice quivered, threatening to break, as he pointed towards the corpses, unable to look at them directly, to see his friend's body among the others. "They took us from our school and tied us up." He whispered, trying to make the situation feel less real, to disassociate himself from his gruesome reality. "They were going to kill us too. Just like Tom."
Asura glanced at the corpses, disgust twisting his features. He knew the children were traumatized and did not want them to dwell on the horrors they had witnessed. "Let's get out of here. This ain't something you should have to see. Mmmm… Can I carry you guys out of here? I can take you home."
The children hesitated, their eyes wide with fear at the thought of being touched. The two youngest were frozen in terror, while Marco remained skeptical. Asura could not blame them for their reaction. They had just witnessed him emerge from their friend's corpse and brutally kill their captors. So, he waited patiently, making no move to approach them, simply sitting in silence as the children slowly calmed down. Hours crept by, and Asura's thoughts drifted back to the events that had led him here.
He was alone, back in his world, and had no idea how he had been pulled into this realm. It was a rare and unsettling occurrence, but it was intriguing, and now his boredom would indeed cease.
Eventually, the children calmed down enough to lift their faces slowly to look up at their rescuer. Asura patiently waited for a response as he fidgeted with his hands.
The small girl was the first to speak. She's tiny, Asura thought, concerned. Is she malnourished? He guessed she was around six or seven, but her small stature made it difficult to tell. Her dress, face, and limbs were covered in dirt as if she had been held captive for a long time. Just how long have they been here?
"Why are you so nice, mister demon?" she asked, her voice small and hesitant.
Asura stared with a blank expression, surprised by the question. "Nice? I wouldn't say I'm a nice guy. I mean, I beat the crap out of those guys. I just don't see a point in beating up kids." He shrugged, a grin spreading across his face, revealing his sharp white teeth. The children froze, momentarily horrified. "I'll protect you, though," he reassured them. "Little kids aren't rotten yet, so I'll keep you safe."
Marco realized that their family had yet to find them. This monster was their best chance to survive, even if they did not trust him. What else can we do? he thought desperately. Sit here and wait to be rescued? How long would that take? He decided to sacrifice himself to ensure the safety of the younger children.
He rose to his feet and inched closer to Asura, his heart pounding. This is it, he thought, bracing himself. Either he eats me, or we have a chance. The sudden rattle of his chains made him and the other children jump.
Asura stood abruptly, scooping Marco into his arms before the boy could react. He gently pulled the chains apart, careful not to hurt the child, and smiled. Then, he turned to the other two and scooped them up. They squealed, squeezing their eyes shut, expecting to be devoured.
But instead of harming them, he did the same as he had with Marco, effortlessly snapping their chains. The chains clattered to the floor, and the children cowered in his grasp, their bodies trembling with fear. Despite his gentle touch, they could not shake the terror ingrained in them. Their bodies trembled as Asura adjusted his hold, ensuring they were comfortable, and then asked, "See, I'm not so bad. I don't bite. What's your name?"
Smiling, he exposed his sharp teeth again, causing the little girl to cover her face, terrified by his scary appearance.
"My name's Lily..." she mumbled, her voice muffled against his hoodie. The small child pointed at the younger boy, "His name is Joel."
Asura watched as the boy shrunk at the mention of his name as if she had condemned him to be his next meal.
"Hi, Lily, Marco, and Joel," Asura said gently. "Let's find your home."
Asura had no issue seeing in the dark, so leaving the room was easy and quick, especially since he had explored the house earlier to find clothes. After entering the living room again, he concluded that this must be someone's living quarters. He found it odd that such a gruesome scene existed within a normal-looking house.
How has this never been found before? Asura wondered. Surely not everyone has a torture chamber in their house? Is that normal in the human realm? He had only seen human houses on television, so he wasn't sure what to expect.
He had only seen human houses on television, so this experience was thrilling. Down a hallway he had explored earlier was a living room, a kitchen, and some bedrooms. But he had not found the exit. One door remained at the front of the living room, which he assumed led outside. He opened it, finding the outside world waiting on the other side.
Asura stepped into the unfamiliar world, his gaze drawn to the full moon, which bathed the streets in an ethereal glow. Above, the stars beautifully sparkled on the night sky's black canvas. This mesmerizing sight was foreign to the ogre kind, whose sky was perpetual darkness without a sun or moon. A sudden soft whimper broke the spell cast on Asura, causing him to turn to the source, Lily.
"What's wrong?!" he asked, his voice gentle.
"It's so dark," she whispered, "like that room."
Asura furrowed his brow, scanning the area. He found nothing that might frighten her. It was simply night, which he quickly realized could be problematic for those who were not nocturnal. They were locked in the dark, he thought. Are human children nocturnal? He recalled the shows where humans were left in the dark, lost without the light to guide them. Understanding their fear of what may reside where they can't see, he tried to comfort them.
"It's alright. I can see perfectly. There's no one around. I'll beat up anyone who tries to hurt you. I'm like a superhero."
"Superheroes don't kill people," Joel mumbled with a retort.
Asura couldn't help but frown a little. He knew this encounter would be burned into their memories for the rest of their lives.