Jester's POV
I was on a barren land, far far away from the corners of the planet known as Gaia, a place where corpses were as common as stars.
The dead man beneath me stopped moving. His body, once thrashing and desperate, now lies still, lifeless. I grin wide, feeling the stretch of skin on my face pull into something unnatural.
It always does when I'm like this—so caught up in the fun of it all. His blood stains my hands, warm and slick, but that's nothing new.
The scythe pulls free from his skull with a wet, satisfying shluck. I make sure to wipe it down, of course— I do take my time, though, making a show of it, savoring the moment.
Cleanliness is next to godliness, or so they say. I never was one for gods, though. They're too stiff, too self-righteous. I prefer chaos. It's more… entertaining.
My eyes wander to the vast expanse of corpses around me. The smell of rot, the weight of death—it feels like home. Familiar.
I chuckle softly, a snake-like hiss escaping my lips. I never get tired of this. Watching the life drain from their eyes, feeling their last breath slip through their lips—it's like art in its purest form. And I'm the artist, sculpting death with my scythe and my hands.
But something tugs at me. A faint connection, one I haven't felt in what seems like ages. I straighten, licking the blood from my fingers—tasting the metallic tang of it, savoring it before turning my focus inward.
Caedes.
No, not Caedes—Keiren. The name makes something in my chest hum with excitement. My little plaything. The one who slipped through my fingers all those years ago, only to find himself wrapped up in something far bigger than either of us.
And then… her.
"Lilith," I murmur, her name rolling off my tongue like an old, forgotten song. My voice twists with affection, an almost tender note creeping into it.
She must be in the same wretched place as Keiren now. How… deliciously tragic.
I smooth my hair back, standing up straight and adjusting my posture like a gentleman preparing for a dance. I can feel the weight of the scythe in my hand, its familiar curve, the power thrumming through it.
It's time to see her again. To see them both.
What a reunion it'll be.
"She mustn't have changed right? My cute little Lili-"
I smile again, the corners of my mouth stretching wide, far too wide.
***
A Dead Man's POV
As I knelt in the middle of the stadium, pain coursing through me with every tremor of my body, I couldn't help but marvel at the sight before me. The woman—Caera Volkov—hovered a few meters above the ground, her black wings unfurled and her presence commanding. Her gaze was icy, cutting through me with a detached, clinical precision.
"So, this is the infamous Ink Flame everyone speaks of," I sneered, my voice cracking with the effort. The pain was unbearable, and I could barely keep my eyes open. My flesh was charred, and I could feel the absence of my left hand, the numbness from where my teeth had been shattered. Yet, I tried to muster some semblance of defiance.
Her gaze was unmoved, and her voice was as cold as the wind on a winter's night. "Does Lord Aster's representative wish to surrender?" she asked, her tone flat and devoid of emotion.
I let out a weary sigh. Defeat was inevitable, but I refused to give her the satisfaction of seeing me broken. "Do not mistake this for a victory," I managed to retort, a sly smile curling at the corners of my lips. "At least you fared better than your fraudulent brother."
My words were laced with venom, each syllable dripping with contempt. I knew my body was failing, but I couldn't resist twisting the knife. "If he hadn't been such a coward, he might've spared himself the embarrassment of his demise. At least you're showing some potential, even if it's barely enough to clean up his mess. Hahahha!"
Her expression didn't change, but something in her eyes flickered—a brief flash of anger, perhaps? It was enough to make me feel a glimmer of satisfaction. I had managed to provoke her, even if just a little.
In an instant, that satisfaction turned to dread. I saw her snap her fingers, and before I could react, the black flames erupted around me. They were unlike any fire I had ever seen. It wasn't just heat; it was a consuming force that seemed to alter reality itself. The flames enveloped me, and I felt them burning through my flesh, reaching into my very soul.
The pain was excruciating, but it was fleeting. As the flames roared and crackled, all I could think about was how swiftly and decisively my end was being delivered. The darkness closed in, and as everything around me turned to ash, I felt a strange calmness. It was over. The last thing I saw was the cold, unyielding expression of Caera Volkov.
And then, nothing.
***
Caedes' POV
The blood—I want to smell it, taste it. The iron tang fills my senses, and it's all-consuming. I've been wandering this hellish cavern for what feels like an eternity, my sanity slipping away bit by bit. Each day is a battle against the hunger that gnaws at my insides. My cloak of leaves and branches hangs loosely from my emaciated frame, offering no protection against the cold, the darkness, or the pain.
It's been so long, but I can't find a single beast's blood to drink from. The sudden thirst for blood has overtaken my mind. My body is a mere vessel now, guided by instincts I barely understand. The scent of blood sharpens my focus, and I can't help but follow it, stumbling through the dark, my hands trembling and my legs barely holding me up.
Finally, I reach the source of the smell. My vision blurs as I make out the shape of a beast—one of the cave racers, with its muscular body and slippery scales. My heart races, a strange mix of dread and anticipation flooding through me.
I let out an eerie laugh, a sound that feels foreign even to me. It's as if I'm a spectator watching from the sidelines while my body takes over. I charge at the snake, my movements wild and uncoordinated. My fist crashes into its scaly hide, and it lets out a pained hiss. The snake coils around my arm, its slippery body tightening like a noose. It's trying to strangle me, but I feel nothing. My skin is numb, my senses dulled by the hunger and the madness.
The snake sinks its fangs into my neck, and the pain is intense, almost excruciating. But even as my body trembles and jerks uncontrollably, a part of me remains detached, watching this chaotic dance from within. My instincts take over completely. I don't think, I don't reason—I just act.
I bit into the snake's neck, tearing through its scales and flesh with a ferocity that surprises even me. The blood that gushes into my mouth is warm and metallic, and it ignites something deep within me. I can't control it—my primal hunger drives me to consume every drop of blood, every ounce of life that remains in this beast.
As I devour the snake, I feel a strange mixture of relief and revulsion. The blood fills my empty void, and for a brief moment, I'm satisfied.
My ability to control my body finally returns. I feel the sticky blood plastered all over my face. But the satisfaction is fleeting, and the hunger soon returns, stronger than before.
All I know is that I need more. More blood, more life, more of whatever can quell this insatiable hunger. And as I look around at the hundreds of beasts surrounding me, I realized that I'm not done. Not by a long shot.
***
P/S: 2 power stones to go for a bonus chapter!