**Chapter 8: Descent into Darkness**
The cold air of the wasteland's night was like a knife slicing through Akuma's already fragile body. His breath came out in shallow gasps, each one a painful reminder of the fact that he had no idea how much longer he could keep going. The barren land around him was now bathed in the pale light of the moon, casting long, haunting shadows across the rocky terrain. The stars twinkled overhead, but they offered no solace—just silent witnesses to his suffering.
Akuma's mind was a fog of hunger, exhaustion, and despair. He felt like he was barely clinging to sanity, his body acting on pure instinct as it pushed forward despite the agony. The goblin blood that stained his skin had dried into a crusty, foul-smelling layer, and the meat he carried in the makeshift bag felt heavier with each step. His stomach churned just thinking about having to eat more of it.
His limbs felt like they were weighed down by invisible chains, and every time he lifted his foot, it took all his remaining strength not to collapse. His vision blurred, and he could feel his consciousness slipping in and out, as if his body was teetering on the edge of shutting down completely.
**Kuro** moved beside him, its silent, skeletal form the only thing that kept Akuma grounded in reality. But even Kuro, the tireless bone fiend, seemed to move slower. It lacked the signs of physical exhaustion, yet its movements were less precise, almost mechanical. The constant fighting and relentless marching were taking a toll even on this undead creature.
Every now and then, a gust of wind would blow across the wasteland, kicking up dust and debris. Akuma squinted as the dirt stung his face, adding another layer of discomfort to his already miserable state. His lips were cracked and bleeding, and his throat was so dry that it felt like he was swallowing glass every time he took a breath. He longed for water—just a single drop of clean, fresh water—but the wasteland offered none.
Each step was torture. His legs trembled with weakness, and his knees threatened to buckle at any moment. His thoughts drifted to the cave he had left behind, where at least there had been some semblance of safety. But going back wasn't an option. He would just die there, alone and forgotten.
No, the only way forward was through this hellish wasteland. But how much longer could he endure this? How much longer could he survive on nothing but goblin meat and blood?
The very thought of it made him retch.
He had already consumed more than his body could handle, and his stomach rebelled with violent convulsions. He bent over, clutching his abdomen as bile rose in his throat. He vomited once more, the acidic taste burning his mouth and throat, but there was nothing left in his stomach to expel except for the foul remnants of goblin flesh. His body was rejecting it, but he had no other choice.
Akuma wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing the blood and bile across his cheek. He felt his legs buckle again, and this time, he couldn't stop himself from collapsing to the ground. He landed hard on his hands and knees, gasping for air as his vision blurred. The world spun around him, and for a brief moment, he wondered if this was the end.
"Is this... how I die?" he muttered, his voice hoarse and broken.
The silence of the wasteland answered him with its eerie stillness.
Kuro stood beside him, its empty eye sockets staring down at him with the same lifeless gaze it always had. Akuma hated it. Hated the bone fiend for being immune to this suffering. Kuro didn't need to eat, didn't need to drink. It didn't feel the pain, the hunger, the thirst that was slowly killing Akuma from the inside out.
But he couldn't blame Kuro. It was just a creature bound to him by some cruel twist of fate. A twisted irony that the thing keeping him alive was something that didn't even have life itself.
With a groan, Akuma forced himself back onto his feet, his body screaming in protest with every movement. He staggered, barely able to keep his balance as he leaned heavily on his makeshift bone spear. He felt as if his entire body was breaking down, his muscles weak and unresponsive, his skin slick with sweat despite the cold air.
And then, in the distance, a sound.
It was faint, almost imperceptible at first, but Akuma's ears perked up. He listened intently, straining to hear it again. His heart pounded in his chest as the sound grew louder—footsteps. Rapid, erratic, and unmistakable.
Goblins.
Akuma gritted his teeth, gripping the sharpened bone spear tighter. He couldn't fight them. Not like this. But he had no choice. If they found him, they would tear him apart without hesitation.
"Kuro," he whispered, his voice trembling.
The bone fiend shifted, its skeletal form moving into a defensive stance, ready to face the oncoming threat. Akuma felt a surge of dread wash over him. Kuro could handle a few goblins, but they were still outnumbered, and Akuma knew that in his current state, he was more of a liability than an asset.
The footsteps grew closer, the sound of shrill goblin voices carrying through the night air. Akuma's pulse quickened, and his grip on the spear tightened to the point of pain. His vision swam as he tried to steady himself, his body swaying with fatigue.
And then they appeared.
Four goblins, small and wiry, with yellow eyes glowing in the moonlight. Their snarling faces twisted in malicious glee as they spotted Akuma and Kuro. They brandished crude weapons—rusted knives, clubs, and jagged bones—and advanced with a hunger that mirrored Akuma's own, though theirs was driven by bloodlust rather than survival.
Akuma's stomach clenched, and he felt the bile rise in his throat once more. The sight of the goblins—creatures he had grown to despise—made him sick. But he couldn't afford to lose focus now. He had to survive.
"Kuro... protect me," Akuma whispered, his voice barely a breath.
The bone fiend responded instantly, launching itself at the goblins with a flurry of deadly precision. Its bony hands slashed through the air, tearing into the first goblin with ease. The creature let out a high-pitched scream as its chest was split open, green blood spraying across the ground.
But the other three goblins weren't deterred. They rushed forward, two of them converging on Kuro while the third broke off, heading straight for Akuma.
Panic seized him. His body was weak, too weak to fight. He could barely hold the bone spear steady, his arms trembling with exhaustion. But he had no choice.
The goblin lunged at him, its jagged knife flashing in the moonlight. Akuma stumbled back, barely managing to avoid the strike, but his footing faltered, and he fell to the ground with a grunt.
The goblin was on him in an instant, its rancid breath hot against his face as it snarled, slashing at him with wild abandon. Akuma raised the bone spear just in time to block the blow, but the force of the impact rattled his entire body.
He had to act. If he didn't, he would die.
With a desperate cry, Akuma thrust the bone spear upward, aiming for the goblin's exposed throat. The jagged bone tip pierced flesh, and the goblin's eyes widened in shock as green blood spurted from the wound.
Akuma gagged as the stench hit him, but he didn't stop. He pushed the spear deeper, twisting it as the goblin thrashed and shrieked in agony.
Finally, the goblin's movements slowed, and its body went limp. Akuma shoved the corpse off of him, gasping for air as he struggled to sit up.
His hands were slick with green blood, his entire body trembling with exertion. He felt sick, disgusted by what he had just done, but there was no time to dwell on it.
Kuro had already taken care of the other two goblins, their lifeless bodies lying in crumpled heaps nearby. The bone fiend stood motionless, waiting for further commands.
Akuma's stomach churned, the scent of goblin blood thick in the air. He knew what he had to do next, and the very thought of it made him want to scream.
But he couldn't afford to scream. Not here. Not now.
With trembling hands, he reached for the dead goblin at his feet, his vision blurring as the nausea threatened to overtake him. He began to carve into the creature's flesh, just as he had done so many times before. His hands moved automatically, numb to the horror of the act.
The night dragged on, the only sounds the soft squelch of meat being cut and the wind howling through the wasteland. Akuma worked in silence, his mind shutting down as he focused on the task at hand.
He hated this life. Hated the goblins, hated the blood, hated the hunger. But there was no way out. No escape.
This was his reality.
And until he found a way out, he had no choice but to survive.