Akuma sat hunched over the grotesque remains of the goblin he had fought earlier, his body shaking uncontrollably as he forced another bite of the foul meat into his mouth. The taste was unbearable. Each bite of the half-cooked flesh sent waves of nausea through his small, broken body. His stomach twisted in knots, and, for the third time, Akuma doubled over, vomiting the green blood and chunks of meat he had barely managed to swallow minutes before.
Panting, he wiped his mouth with the back of his dirty hand, the salt from his sweat burning against the cracks in his dry, blistered lips. He could feel the bile rising in his throat again, but he swallowed it down, forcing himself to hold onto whatever sustenance he could keep down. He had no other choice. This vile, revolting flesh was all that kept him from death.
As the blood of the goblin smeared across his body, drying into a sickly green crust under the scorching sun, Akuma knew this was the reality of his situation. He had to survive by any means necessary. He let out a quiet sob, his voice barely a whisper in the vast emptiness of the wasteland.
"Why...why is this happening to me?" he muttered under his breath, his voice breaking with the weight of exhaustion and despair.
But he couldn't afford to dwell on his misery. Crying wouldn't help him survive. With trembling hands, Akuma scoured the goblin's corpse for anything useful. His stomach heaved again, but this time he managed to suppress the nausea as he cut into the goblin's flesh. The creature was hideous, but even in its death, it could provide him with what little he needed to stay alive.
He peeled off chunks of meat from the goblin's body, gagging with each tug, and fashioned a crude bag from his tattered clothes, tying it around his waist. The bag wasn't much—it barely held the few pieces of meat he had scavenged—but it would do for now. At least he wouldn't have to hold the disgusting meat in his hands anymore.
Once he had finished collecting the meat, he turned his attention to the goblin's bones. **Kuro**, the bone fiend, stood silently beside him, watching over him like a skeletal sentinel. The undead creature had been his only companion in this hellish wasteland, but it couldn't offer any comfort, no matter how much Akuma wished for it.
The heat was unbearable. The air around him shimmered with the intense heat of the sun, which beat down mercilessly on his fragile frame. His skin had turned raw and cracked, his lips were splitting from the dehydration, and the humidity in the air made it feel like every breath he took was suffocating him. But even as his body screamed for relief, Akuma knew he had to keep moving.
He grabbed one of the goblin's leg bones and examined it closely. The bone was strong, thick enough to be used as a weapon. He looked around the wasteland, scanning the barren land until he spotted a pile of rocks nearby. Slowly, Akuma made his way over and picked up the sharpest stones he could find. His hands trembled as he began to grind the goblin's leg bone against the rock, sharpening it as best as his weakened body would allow.
His mind was clouded with hunger, thirst, and fatigue, but he forced himself to focus on the task at hand. Each movement was slow, agonizing, but he couldn't afford to stop. His breath came in ragged gasps as he worked. The grinding noise echoed in his ears, filling the silence of the wasteland. Sweat poured down his face, stinging his eyes, but he didn't stop.
Finally, after what felt like hours, the bone had been honed into a crude but sharp weapon. Akuma tested the point with his finger, wincing as it pierced his skin. It was enough. It would have to be enough.
With the makeshift weapon in hand, Akuma stood and turned to Kuro, his undead companion. The bone fiend stood motionless, waiting for orders. Akuma had grown used to the silence between them. Kuro never spoke, never questioned. It simply obeyed, and in this desolate land, that was enough.
But even with Kuro by his side, Akuma felt the crushing weight of loneliness. He missed his family, his home. He missed the warmth of a real meal, the comfort of a soft bed. The thought of home made his chest tighten with grief, but he quickly pushed it away. There was no time for mourning. Not now.
His stomach growled, the hunger gnawing at his insides, but Akuma forced himself to keep moving. He had to find water. The sun had already begun its descent, casting long shadows across the wasteland, but the heat hadn't lessened. If anything, the humidity seemed to be growing thicker, making it even harder to breathe.
He stumbled forward, every step a struggle as his body screamed in protest. His legs felt like lead, his head pounded, and his vision blurred from exhaustion. But he kept going. He had no choice.
Hours passed, though they felt like an eternity. Akuma's mind wandered, his thoughts becoming wild and incoherent from hunger and thirst. He imagined finding a stream of clear water, dipping his hands into the cool liquid and drinking until his thirst was finally quenched. But when he blinked, the vision vanished, leaving only the harsh reality of the wasteland before him.
His lips were so dry that they had begun to bleed, the cracks in his skin deepening with every passing minute under the relentless sun. Akuma groaned, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, only to find his own blood smeared across his skin. The sight made him dizzy, his knees buckling as he nearly collapsed to the ground.
"I...I can't stop," he whispered to himself, forcing his legs to move once more. "I can't stop..."
Every step felt like his last, but he couldn't let himself collapse. If he did, he wouldn't get back up. And then it would all be over. His revenge, his survival—it would all be for nothing.
Finally, as the sun dipped lower into the horizon, casting a blood-red glow across the wasteland, Akuma spotted something in the distance. It was small, barely noticeable, but it moved. His heart raced, adrenaline surging through his tired veins as he strained to see what it was.
Another goblin.
The creature was wandering aimlessly, its hunched form barely visible against the rocks and sand. Akuma's breath caught in his throat. He couldn't fight another one—not in this state. But he had no choice. He needed more food. More blood. Anything to keep him going.
He motioned for Kuro to follow, and together, they crept toward the creature. This time, Akuma had the advantage. He had spotted it first. His mind raced as he tried to come up with a plan. He knew he couldn't fight the goblin head-on, not with his current strength. But with Kuro by his side, he had a chance.
When they were close enough, Akuma nodded to Kuro, and the bone fiend sprang into action. Kuro moved with eerie grace, its bony limbs clattering as it charged at the goblin. The creature barely had time to react before Kuro's skeletal fist connected with its face, sending it sprawling to the ground.
But the goblin wasn't as weak as it seemed. It let out a high-pitched screech, scrambling to its feet and dodging Kuro's next attack. Akuma watched in horror as the creature darted around Kuro, too fast for the bone fiend to catch.
His heart pounded in his chest, panic rising as he realized that the goblin might escape. If it got away, Akuma would lose his only chance at survival. With a cry of desperation, he lunged at the goblin, his sharpened bone raised high. But the creature was too quick, dodging his attack with ease.
The goblin let out another screech, this time turning to flee. But Akuma wasn't about to let it escape. He pounced on the creature, wrestling it to the ground with all the strength he had left. The goblin thrashed wildly, stabbing at him with its crude knife, and Akuma screamed as the blade sliced through his arm.
"KURO!" Akuma shouted through the pain, barely managing to hold the goblin down. "NOW!"
Kuro moved in, grabbing the goblin by its neck and slamming it against the ground with a sickening crack. The creature let out one last screech before going limp, its body twitching as it died.
Panting, Akuma pushed himself off the ground, his arm throbbing from the deep wound. Blood poured from the gash, but he didn't care. He had won. He had survived.
For now.
As the sun set and the stars began to dot the sky, Akuma gathered what little he could from the goblin's corpse. More meat, more blood. It was all he had to keep going. He looked up at the moon, feeling a cold wind sweep across the wasteland.
The night had fallen, and with it, new dangers would come. But Akuma wasn't dead yet. Not today.
And as long as he had Kuro by his side, he would keep fighting. No matter the cost.