The snow crunches beneath my feet as I walk, slow and deliberate, each step sinking into the thick, frozen blanket that covers the earth. The wind howls around me, a low, mournful sound, carrying with it the biting cold that gnaws at my skin. But I barely feel it. The chill that permeates this place is nothing compared to the heat of the blood that still drips from my hands, staining the pure white snow beneath me with deep red streaks.
Behind me, the once-great creature lies broken, a mountain of fur and muscle, its body sprawled across the frozen wasteland like some grotesque monument of destruction. The beast's white fur is now soaked with its own blood, the crimson liquid pooling around its massive, lifeless form. Its four great horns, once gleaming in the pale light, are now cracked and splintered, jagged remnants of a brutal fight.
The creature was a fusion—a lion the size of a house, its body enhanced with monstrous features that once made it a terror to behold. Now, it's little more than a torn-up carcass, its flesh shredded, massive cuts splitting its thick hide and exposing the pulsing muscles beneath. Blood sprays intermittently from the open wounds, mixing with the snow, turning the entire landscape into a macabre painting of red and white.
I glance back at it, my breath coming in slow, even bursts, each exhale forming a cloud of mist in the cold air. There's a smile on my face—a slow, creeping smirk that I can't quite suppress. The satisfaction is almost… intoxicating. The battle, the chaos, the *destruction*—it was everything I had wanted it to be.
The creature is dead. I'm not.
I feel… *alive*.
I stretch my wings, a faint tremor running through them as the tattered membrane flexes against the wind. One wing—*my wing*—has emerged, its dark feathers flickering with a purple aura that pulses in time with my heartbeat. It feels natural now, like it's always been there, part of me, even though it wasn't always like this. It wasn't always *me*.
The snow continues to fall, thick and silent, blanketing the world around me. The once-pristine white is now tainted by the blood of the fusion, and with every step I take, I leave behind more crimson footprints. It's almost peaceful, in a twisted sort of way.
But peace? I've long forgotten what that feels like.
As I walk, my mind drifts, thoughts swirling like the snow around me, memories rising to the surface unbidden. My life—if you can even call it that—has been a series of battles, a never-ending string of violence and survival. I've fought monsters, fusions, humans—anything and everything that stood in my way. And each time, I came out on top. Each time, I grew stronger.
But what's the point of strength if there's no one left to challenge it?
A chuckle escapes my lips, the sound swallowed by the wind. I don't even know who I'm talking to. Myself, maybe? Or the beast lying behind me, its life draining out into the snow? There's no one else here. No one to witness what I've become. But that's fine. I don't need an audience.
"It's funny," I murmur to the emptiness around me, my voice low, almost thoughtful. "All this power. All this *strength.* And yet…" I trail off, staring down at my blood-stained hands. The claws that extend from my fingers glint in the pale light, still wet with the fusion's blood. I flex my fingers, watching the way the crimson liquid drips from the tips, steaming as it hits the cold ground.
The satisfaction is there, but it's fleeting. The thrill of the fight fades quickly, replaced by that familiar emptiness, the void that seems to grow wider with every victory. I killed the monster. I tore it apart. But now what? What comes next?
"More." The word slips out before I can stop it, and my smirk widens. More fights. More challenges. More *blood.*
That's the only thing that keeps me moving forward.
A low hum fills the air, and I realize it's coming from me. The purple aura that flickers around my wing has grown stronger, more vibrant, swirling in time with my thoughts. It's not just a part of me—it's a reflection of what I am. The power that I've gained, the strength that I've absorbed from every creature I've killed, pulses within me, like a second heartbeat.
It's almost alive, this energy. It crackles around me, a living, breathing thing, feeding off my emotions, my desires. The more I crave, the stronger it becomes. The stronger *I* become.
"Is this what it feels like to be a devil?" I ask the wind, my voice carrying in the cold. I tilt my head back, letting the snowflakes fall onto my face, feeling the cold sting of them melt against my skin. "Is this what it means to be unstoppable?"
The wind howls in response, but it doesn't answer. Of course, it doesn't. No one can answer that question but me.
I glance back again, at the massive corpse of the fusion, its body now half-buried in the snow. It's strange, really. When I was weaker, creatures like this were the stuff of nightmares—beasts that haunted my every waking moment, monsters I never thought I'd be able to defeat. But now… now they're just stepping stones.
I wonder if that's what I've become to something else. A stepping stone. A monster to be slain.
The thought makes me laugh—a sharp, bitter sound that echoes across the empty landscape.
"Let them try," I mutter, flexing my claws again. "Let them *all* try."
The memories keep coming, flashes of faces I don't remember, places I've forgotten. My mind flickers between the present and the past, moments of clarity buried beneath the haze of battle. I see the lab again—the cold, sterile walls, the twisted experiments, the monsters that tore themselves apart. I see the people, their terrified faces as I slaughtered them, the way their bodies crumpled like paper beneath my claws.
But that was before.
Before I became what I am now.
Before I *became.*
I can't remember when the hunger first started—when the need to consume, to destroy, became more than just instinct. Maybe it was always there, lurking beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to break free. Maybe it was the result of the experiments, the things they did to me in that lab. Or maybe… maybe it's just who I am.
I don't know. And I don't care.
All that matters is that I'm here now. I'm alive, and I'm stronger than I've ever been.
And yet, there's still something missing.
The wind picks up again, swirling the snow around me in violent gusts. The cold bites at my skin, but I barely feel it. The blood that drips from my body is warm, a stark contrast to the freezing air. It steams as it hits the ground, leaving a trail of crimson in my wake.
I stop walking, standing in the middle of the desolate landscape, surrounded by nothing but snow and silence. The fusion's corpse lies behind me, a broken, twisted thing, and yet I feel no remorse. No regret.
Only satisfaction.
"Is this it, then?" I ask the empty sky. "Is this what I've been chasing all this time?"
I close my eyes, letting the wind whip around me, feeling the power of the purple aura that pulses from my wing. The blood reaches my feet, pooling around me like a dark, sickly halo. I can feel the energy coursing through me, stronger than ever, but there's still that nagging emptiness, that hollow feeling that no amount of power seems to fill.
But that's fine.
Because as long as there's more to fight, more to destroy, I'll keep going.
I open my eyes again, staring down at the trail of blood that stretches out behind me. My smile widens, a slow, satisfied grin that feels more like a snarl. I flex my hand, watching the way the claws catch the light, sharp and gleaming. The world around me is cold and dead, but I'm not. Not yet.
"I'll find it," I murmur, my voice barely audible over the wind. "Whatever it is I'm looking for… I'll find it."
I clench my fist, feeling the blood-slick skin tighten under my grip. My body is battered, bruised, but it doesn't matter. The pain is distant, a dull throb in the back of my mind. I've survived worse. I'll survive again.
My gaze drifts to my arm, the veins pulsing with the same purple energy that surrounds my wing. My eyes, crimson and burning, lock onto the limb, and I smirk.
"Not bad," I whisper, my voice filled with a dark amusement. "Not bad at all."