"Hehehe! Run, run along now, I will show you mercy. I will spare you," the Celestial Dragon sneered from atop his towering slave mount, a grotesque creature burdened with a collar and chains. His voice oozed with a sickening delight as he gazed down at the old man sitting slumped within the cage.
The old man, frail and weary, had long given up hope. His once-strong body was now a shadow of its former self, and the spark of life in his eyes had dimmed to a dull, resigned acceptance.
The Celestial Dragon's grin widened as he anticipated the thrill of the hunt, the terror of his prey fleeing for their lives. But as the seconds ticked by, his amusement began to sour.
The old man didn't move. He didn't even flinch. He simply sat there, staring up at the sky with a vacant expression, as if the world around him had ceased to matter.
"You filthy worm! Did you not hear me?" The Celestial Dragon spat, his face contorting with rage. He tightened his grip on the ornate reins of his slave mount, pulling harshly, causing the creature to whimper in pain. "I said run!"
But the old man remained unmoved, his gaze fixed on the heavens above, where the sky stretched out endlessly, indifferent to the horrors below. His silence, his lack of fear or reaction, infuriated the Celestial Dragon.
This was not how it was supposed to go. The prey was meant to beg, to plead, to scramble in terror. That was the entertainment, the twisted joy he sought.
The Celestial Dragon's eyes narrowed, his twisted mind struggling to comprehend how this frail, insignificant worm could dare to defy him, to rob him of his pleasure.
He leaned forward in his saddle, his voice dripping with malice. "You think you're better than these worms, old man? You think you can ignore me? I'll make you run. I'll make you crawl if I have to."
But the old man merely closed his eyes, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips as if finding solace in a memory far removed from the present nightmare. The Celestial Dragon's face twisted into a mask of fury.
How dare this vermin defy him, a god among men? He reached for the ornate pistol holstered at his side, his fingers itching to pull the trigger, to wipe the insolent look off the old man's face.
But before he could act, a series of deafening gunshots rang out across the forest. "Bang! Bang! Bang!" The sharp cracks echoed off the marble walls of the palace, slicing through the air.
The Celestial Dragon recoiled, his scowl deepening as he whipped his head around to see the source of the noise. His grip on the reins tightened in anger.
To his utter disgust, another Celestial Dragon, dressed in an even more garish outfit, was already laughing heartily atop his own mount, a fresh trail of smoke rising from the barrel of his gun.
The prey the old man hadn't run to become—three younger men—lay lifeless on the ground, their bodies twisted in unnatural angles.
"Ahahaha! You're too soft, brother!" The newcomer roared, his voice thick with mocking glee.
"Playing with the prey is a waste of time. It's their suffering that's the real pleasure, not their pathetic attempts at escape!"
He nudged his mount closer, kicking aside one of the bodies with a casual disregard. "Look at them, squirming, groveling for mercy that will never come. That's the joy of the hunt!"
The first Celestial Dragon's scowl deepened as he stared at the other, his fury bubbling just beneath the surface. His moment of sick enjoyment had been stolen from him, robbed by a fellow "god." The old man, meanwhile, remained utterly indifferent to the chaos around him, his mind far away from the horrors of the present.
The Celestial Dragon felt a bitter taste in his mouth. His "brother" had ruined his fun, and the lifeless bodies at his feet were no longer of interest to him. There was no pleasure in shooting an unresponsive old man, no thrill in the hunt when the prey had already accepted their fate.
With a final, spiteful glance at the old man, the Celestial Dragon jerked the reins of his slave mount, turning away in search of a more lively game. As he rode off, his thoughts were consumed with the desire for blood, for the screams and pleas of those who still had hope. He needed to find a target that would give him the satisfaction he craved.
Behind him, the laughter of the other Celestial Dragon echoed through the forest with a mix of gunshots, a grotesque symphony to the twisted minds of those who called themselves gods. The old man, now alone amidst the carnage, opened his eyes and sighed, his gaze once more returning to the sky, where it remained, detached from the horrors of the world below.
For the Celestial Dragons, the hunt had only just begun. For the old man, however, it was already over.
*****
"Huff… Huff… I cannot… I cannot run anymore," the woman gasped, her legs giving way as she crashed to the ground, utterly spent. Her chest heaved with exhaustion, each breath a struggle as she clung to the last remnants of her strength. They had been running for what felt like an eternity, desperate to escape the horrors that hunted them.
"Just a bit more… just a bit more and we'll be at the shores," her husband urged, his voice trembling with a mix of hope and despair. He cradled their two small children in his arms, their tiny faces streaked with tears and dirt.
The little ones whimpered softly, their cries stifled by the fear that gripped them all, but the man tried to hush them, his heart pounding with the dread that any sound might give them away, might draw those monsters to them.
He knelt beside his wife, shaking her gently. "Come on, we're almost there," he whispered, his voice breaking. "We can make it, we just need to—"
But she didn't move. Her body lay still, her eyes half-open, staring vacantly at the sky. The man's heart skipped a beat as realization dawned on him, his blood turning to ice. "No… no, no, no," he whispered frantically, shaking her more vigorously now. "Wake up! Please, wake up!"
But her last words had already been spoken. Her heart, broken by the terror and exhaustion, had finally given out. The woman who had been his strength, his partner, the mother of his children, was gone.
The man's breath caught in his throat, a wave of grief and disbelief crashing over him. "No… this can't be happening…" His voice was barely audible, a choked whisper as he cradled her lifeless body. Tears welled up in his eyes, but before they could fall, a rustling sound nearby made him freeze.
His heart leaped in his chest as he heard the ominous noise, the rustling of leaves and the crunch of footsteps approaching. Panic surged through him, every instinct screaming at him to run, but his legs felt like lead. He slowly turned his head, dread filling every fiber of his being.
Emerging from the shadows, a group of heavily armed men in gleaming armor stepped into view, their faces concealed behind emotionless masks. They were the retinue of a Celestial Dragon, their master following close behind in a gilded palanquin carried by more slaves.
The Dragon was dressed in luxurious hunting attire, a wide, twisted grin visible beneath the glass of his mask as he spotted his quarry.
"Well, well, what have we here?" the Celestial Dragon mused, his voice dripping with malicious delight. He dismounted from his palanquin with exaggerated grace, his cold, calculating eyes scanning the small family before him. His gaze lingered on the children, and his smile widened. "A rare rabbit, and a little family too… what a delightful find."
The man's heart sank as he realized the true horror of their situation. His wife was gone, and now he was powerless to protect his children from the monsters that had finally caught up to them. Desperation overtook him as he fell to his knees, clutching his children tightly to his chest.
"Please… please, spare them!" he begged, his voice cracking with anguish. "They're just children, innocent children! Take me instead, but please, let them go!"
The Celestial Dragon tilted his head, his smile never faltering. "Spare them?" he echoed, as if the very idea was foreign to him. He chuckled softly, a sound devoid of any warmth. "You misunderstand, worm. Their innocence is precisely what makes this so entertaining."
He gave a slight nod to his retinue, and the soldiers moved forward with practiced efficiency. The man tried to shield his children, but the soldiers were swift and merciless.
One of them grabbed the man by the hair, yanking him away from his children and throwing him to the ground. The other soldiers surrounded the children, their cold eyes gleaming behind their masks as they prepared to carry out their orders.
"No! No, please!" the man screamed, struggling against the grip that held him. "I'll do anything! Just don't hurt them!"
His pleas fell on deaf ears. The Celestial Dragon watched with detached amusement as his soldiers set to work. One of them drew a cruel, serrated blade from his belt, while another brandished a branding iron, its tip glowing red-hot. The man's heart broke as he saw his children's terrified faces, their innocent eyes wide with fear.
But the Celestial Dragon only laughed, a high-pitched, maniacal sound that echoed through the forest. "Oh, how delightful! The sound of despair, the sight of tears… this is what I live for!"
The soldier holding the man forced him to watch as another soldier turned his attention to the younger child, a little girl barely old enough to understand what was happening. She whimpered softly, tears streaming down her cheeks as she clung to her brother, who was still sobbing from the pain of his branding.
The man struggled with all his might, but he was powerless to stop them. He could only watch in horror as the soldier with the blade raised it high, the metal glinting in the dim light. "No… please, no!" the man screamed, his voice breaking with despair.
The Celestial Dragon's eyes gleamed with sadistic pleasure as he gave a small nod. The soldier grinned beneath his mask, and with a single, swift motion, he brought the blade down.
The man's scream was drowned out by the sound of his children's cries, their small bodies trembling with fear and pain. The soldier's blade struck again and again, each time accompanied by the Celestial Dragon's cruel laughter. The man's heart shattered into a million pieces as he was forced to watch the unimaginable horror unfold before him, powerless to save the only things in the world that mattered to him.
Finally, when the soldier had finished his gruesome work, the Celestial Dragon stepped forward, his smile wide and triumphant. He looked down at the man, who was now a broken shell of a person, his spirit crushed beyond repair. "There, wasn't that fun?" the Celestial Dragon said, his voice laced with mockery. "I hope you enjoyed the show, worm."
The man could no longer respond. He lay on the ground, his body trembling with sobs, his eyes vacant and hollow. His children were gone, his wife was gone, and his soul had been ripped apart by the cruelty of the world.
With a final, mocking laugh, the Celestial Dragon turned away, signaling for his retinue to finish off the man and follow. The soldiers left the man bleeding in the dirt, stabbing him a dozen times, alone with his grief and the shattered remains of his family.
As the Celestial Dragon and his entourage disappeared into the distance, the man let out a choked, final sob. The world around him blurred as death embraced him, a nightmare from which he would never awaken. The sky above, once so bright with hope, was now dark and cold, as if it too had turned its back on him.
*****
"We need to fight back! Let's show those bastards who we really are!" a pirate roared, his voice filled with desperation and defiance as he rallied a group of a dozen strong men around him.
These were men who had once sailed the seas with pride and power, but now they huddled together like cornered animals, trying to muster the courage to survive the hell they had been thrown into. Their eyes burned with the last flickers of hope, and their hands trembled, not just with fear, but with the raw, untamed urge to strike back at their oppressors.
"Tch," a man sitting in the shadowy corner of the clearing chuckled, the sound cold and cynical. The group turned toward him, their fleeting hopes momentarily redirected to this figure who seemed to have resigned himself to the grim reality.
He leaned back against a withering corn stalk, a bitter smirk playing on his lips as he spoke. "Are you even aware of what's around your neck?"
The men glanced at each other, confusion mingling with the remnants of their anger. The speaker pointed to his own neck, where a thick, metal collar glinted ominously in the dim light that filtered through the cornfield. The realization hit them like a punch to the gut.
"That thing on your neck will explode the moment you try something against the Celestial Dragons," the man continued, his voice steady, laced with dark humor.
"Do you think they wouldn't have thought of something like this? Those sick bastards planned this whole thing out, from start to finish. The so-called 'rabbits'—us, with even a hint of strength—were all fitted with these collars. They knew some of us would want to fight back, and they've made sure we can't."
A heavy silence settled over the group as his words sank in. The fire in their eyes dimmed, replaced by the cold, hard truth of their situation. They weren't just being hunted; they were being toyed with, their every move anticipated and countered. The realization drained the fight out of most of them, leaving only a hollow sense of dread.
"So, what now?" one of the younger men asked, his voice trembling. "We just sit here and wait to die?"
The man in the corner shrugged. "We think of a way to escape this island without getting caught. It's our only chance, slim as it is. Running headfirst into a fight we can't win will just get us all killed faster."
Before anyone could respond, a high-pitched, maniacal laugh echoed through the clearing. The sound was jarring, like nails on a chalkboard, and it came from a figure sitting on the edge of the group, his eyes wild and unfocused. He was a wiry man with a twisted grin, his teeth bared in a smile that was more unsettling than any scowl.
"Without getting caught?" the man repeated, his voice dripping with insanity. "Are you sure about that? Sooner or later, they're going to find us. No matter how clever you think you are, they'll track us down, drag us out, and make sport of us." He paused, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous light.
"So, I say we enjoy the time we have left. Let ourselves loose. If we're going to die, let's go out with a bang!"
The others stared at him, some in horror, others in grim agreement. The tension in the air was palpable, a cocktail of fear, anger, and despair, mixed with the madness of a man who had already accepted his fate. He stood up, his movements erratic, almost twitchy, as he began to pace back and forth, his mind clearly racing with dark thoughts.
"Think about it," he urged, his voice rising with excitement. "We're dead either way. But we can make them pay for what they've done to us! We can take as many of those bastards down with us as we can! Let's show them that even their 'rabbits' can bite back!"
His words ignited a spark in some of the men, their fists clenching as they imagined the chaos they could cause, the revenge they could take. But for others, it was a chilling reminder of just how hopeless their situation really was. They were trapped, caged by both the collars around their necks and the merciless fate that awaited them.
The man in the corner sighed, shaking his head as he watched the group teeter on the edge of madness.
"If you want to throw your life away for a moment of satisfaction, be my guest," he muttered, his voice tinged with a weary sadness. "But don't drag the rest of us down with you. There might still be a way out of this, and I'd rather take my chances with that than with some suicidal last stand."
The group fell silent again, torn between the desperate urge to fight back and the cold logic of their dire circumstances. The wind rustled through the cornfield, carrying with it the distant sounds of gunfire and screams, a grim reminder of the hunt that was already in full swing.
In the end, each man had to decide for himself: to fight and die in a blaze of fury, or to cling to the slim hope of escape, however fleeting it might be.
*****
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