The crimson sun hung low on the horizon, its dying light casting long shadows over a crumbling castle that stood defiant amidst a sea of blood and corpses. The battlefield was a graveyard of monsters and men alike, their twisted forms scattered across the charred earth. A lone figure stood at the edge of the massacre, his chest heaving, a bloodied spear gripped tightly in his hand.
His body was a testament to unrelenting brutality—his skin torn, muscles exposed, his bones visible in places where the flesh had been ripped away. Despite his grievous injuries, he stood tall, unbroken, a living monument to resilience.
His name was lost to the whispers of the battlefield, but his people—those who followed him—called him *The Enduring One*. Behind him, what remained of his warriors gathered in silence. Their armor was battered, their weapons dull, their spirits dimmed but not extinguished.
"Today," he rasped, his voice raw as he raised his spear toward the castle's jagged silhouette. "We finish this."
The group moved forward, their steps heavy, their eyes reflecting both despair and determination. The castle loomed larger with every step, its blackened walls and jagged towers piercing the twilight sky like a beast's fangs. The air grew colder as they approached, the ground beneath their feet turning from blood-soaked dirt to obsidian stone.
The Enduring One pushed the massive iron doors open with a grunt, the groan of the hinges echoing through the vast, hollow halls of the castle. Inside, the stench of decay was overwhelming. Blood dripped from the walls, forming rivulets that pooled into a crimson sea beneath their feet.
Monsters lined the throne room, their grotesque forms a testament to the horrors that lurked in the shadows of this cursed world. They didn't attack. They only watched, their glowing eyes fixed on the intruders.
At the far end of the room, upon a throne forged from scales and bones, sat a man. No—a being, something far beyond human.
His black hair fell in untamed waves around his sharp, angular face, his eyes gleaming like molten gold. His presence was suffocating, filling the room with a pressure that made the air feel thick and heavy.
The Enduring One's grip on his spear tightened as the man leaned forward, a grin spreading across his face.
"So," the man drawled, his voice as smooth and sharp as a blade. "You're the latest offering? I thought Rashman's little pets would put up more of a fight before crawling to my doorstep."
One of the Enduring One's warriors, a hulking beast of a man covered in scars, stepped forward. His voice was a guttural growl, filled with defiance. "We are not offerings, you scaled bastard. We are your end."
The man on the throne tilted his head, his grin widening. "Is that so?"
In an instant, the warriors charged. Battle cries rang through the air as they surged toward the throne. The Enduring One led the charge, his spear poised to strike.
The man didn't move.
The first warrior reached him, his massive sword swinging down in a deadly arc. Before the blade could connect, the man raised his hand, and scales shimmered across his skin. The sword shattered on impact.
With a flick of his wrist, the man tore the warrior's head from his shoulders. Blood sprayed across the throne room as the lifeless body crumpled to the ground.
The monsters in the room howled in delight, their laughter a cacophony of madness.
One by one, the warriors fell. Heads were severed, bodies torn apart, their screams cut short by the man's overwhelming power. He moved like a shadow, his strikes precise, his strength immeasurable.
As the last of the warriors fell, a single figure emerged from the carnage. He was young, his face pale with fear, but his resolve burned bright in his eyes. He clutched a blade in trembling hands, his voice cracking as he shouted, "I am a student of Rashman! His blood runs in my veins! You will not defeat me!"
The man on the throne chuckled, the sound low and predatory. "Rashman? That old fool still teaches children how to swing sticks? How quaint."
The young warrior screamed, lunging forward with all his might. His blade glowed with an ethereal light, the air around it crackling with power. He swung with everything he had, aiming for the man's neck.
The man caught the blade between his fingers.
The glow vanished, the crackling ceased. The man grinned, his golden eyes burning brighter. "Let me teach you something your master never could."
With a single motion, he snapped the blade in two.
The young warrior staggered back, his eyes wide with disbelief. He opened his mouth to speak, but the man was faster. His hand lashed out, claws forming as scales rippled across his arm. He grabbed the young warrior's head and twisted.
The sound of snapping bone echoed through the throne room.
The man let the body fall, turning his gaze to the Enduring One, who stood frozen amidst the carnage, his spear trembling in his grasp.
"Now," the man said, stepping off his throne, his voice dripping with amusement. "What will *you* do?"
The Enduring One's rage boiled over. He roared, charging forward with all his might. His spear, glowing with the energy of his fallen comrades, thrust forward with the force of a hurricane.
The man moved faster than the eye could follow.
The spear struck nothing but air as the man sidestepped effortlessly. Before the Enduring One could react, the man's hand lashed out, claws tearing through the spear's shaft.
The Enduring One stumbled, but he didn't fall. He spun, swinging the broken spear like a club, aiming for the man's head. The man caught it mid-swing, his grin widening.
"Admirable," he said, his voice mocking. "But futile."
With a flick of his wrist, he sent the Enduring One flying across the room. The warrior slammed into the wall, the force cracking the stone.
The man strode forward, his footsteps echoing through the silent throne room. He crouched before the Enduring One, who struggled to rise, his body broken but his spirit unyielding.
"Any last words?" the man asked, his golden eyes gleaming.
The Enduring One spat blood, his voice a defiant snarl. "You'll fall, just like the rest."
The man laughed. "Perhaps. But not today."
With one swift motion, he drove his claws into the Enduring One's chest, ending the fight.
The man stood amidst the sea of bodies, his scales shimmering as they receded into his skin. The monsters in the throne room bowed low, their twisted forms trembling in reverence.
The man turned, his grin fading into a cold, calculating stare as he ascended the steps to his throne.
"Pathetic," he muttered, sitting down once more. His gaze swept over the carnage. "Send more."
He leaned back, his golden eyes narrowing as a new thought crossed his mind.
"Let's see how far they'll go before they realize it's hopeless."
The monsters howled in agreement, their laughter filling the blood-soaked hall.
And so, the throne room fell silent once more, waiting for the next fools to step into the jaws of the beast.