"What now?" Howard's voice broke the tense silence, his breath sharp as he glanced at the young man standing beside him. His expression was a mix of frustration and disbelief. "Are you just going to let him continue like this?"
The young man's eyes narrowed as he absorbed Howard's words. Across the city, Harry had relentlessly led his forces to dismantle several of their strongholds, disrupting the carefully laid plans of the Black Council. This alone might have been manageable, but the real threat lay in something much larger.
Harry had taken the initiative to organize a massive coalition of fighters into an anti-Black Council alliance. Now, he wasn't just targeting their physical presence in the city, he was intent on crushing their very foundation. If the Council couldn't act swiftly, they risked losing their control of Malian City entirely.
Howard clenched his fists, feeling the weight of their situation. "If we let this drag on, we won't be able to move. We'll be boxed in, unable to act."
The young man stood unmoving, his eyes flicking toward the distant horizon, where the city's lights flickered like dying stars. "Wait," he said, his tone calm, almost detached. "We're ready. We've prepared well enough."
He paused, turning his gaze to Howard with a quiet confidence. "The higher-ups have given the order. The ceremony will begin soon, and when it does, the sacrifice will be made. By then, all these people who are challenging us will be dead. We'll see to it."
His words carried a chilling certainty, and a sinister smile curled on his lips. He glanced at the shadows behind them, where figures lingered, and felt a surge of hatred welling up inside him.
Howard nodded, his expression darkening as he shared the young man's resolve. "Good," he muttered, before they both turned and moved swiftly, vanishing into the shadows.
What neither of them noticed was a pair of eyes, lurking just behind them. Eyes that had been watching their every move since the very beginning, unwavering, waiting for the right moment to strike.
Not long after they left, Harry appeared, stepping out from the darkness with a faint, knowing smile on his face. He watched Howard and the young man disappear into the distance.
"Looks like we're about to see the fruits of our labor," Harry mused, his voice low but filled with anticipation.
With his strength, capturing Howard and his companion was within his grasp; but he hadn't made the move. Not yet. It would have been too easy. They were valuable pawns, after all. In time, they could lead him to more of the Black Council's hidden strongholds throughout Malain City. It would be foolish to waste such assets now.
Harry was patient. He knew the game he was playing, and he knew that it would be more rewarding in the long term to let the Black Council think they had the upper hand.
That night, Howard and his ally were once again forced to retreat, their plans crumbling as another Black Council stronghold in Malian City fell into Harry's hands.
As the days passed, Harry's influence over the city grew, and the Black Council's grip on Malian City weakened. Yet, despite these blows, the Black Council remained undeterred. This was just one battle in a much larger war. Malian City was an important base, but it was merely a single thread in the vast web of their operations spanning across countries. Losing it would sting, but it wouldn't be the end.
However, Harry's relentless push was beginning to have an effect. His strikes were forcing the Black Council to accelerate their plans. Unbeknownst to everyone, something was stirring in the heart of Malian City.
Late one night, as Harry slept, something stirred within him. A strange energy pulled him from his slumber, his senses sharp as a predator's. He rose from his bed, his body taut with awareness. Looking out the window, he noticed a faint flicker in the sky.
It was strange, almost imperceptible. A soft, eerie light seemed to pulse against the dark sky, like the final heartbeat of something long dormant. An ancient energy; one that Harry could feel stirring deep in his bones. It was as though something immense, something powerful, was awakening from its slumber beneath the city. A force of nature or perhaps something darker, a god or demon, waiting to be unleashed.
Dangerous. Destructive. But the more he sensed it, the more it felt inevitable.
"Is it finally starting?" Harry muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.
From the beginning, he'd known that the Black Council had been preparing for a ceremony in Malian City. But now, with this strange phenomenon unfolding before his eyes, he understood: the time had come. The ceremony was not just a plan, it was happening now.
Harry stood tall, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the sky, his thoughts racing. There were many things hidden within this city, many forces at play. But one thing was certain: whatever was about to happen would change everything.
His lips curled into a small smile, his eyes gleaming with cold resolve.
"Alright," he whispered, more to himself than anyone else. "Let me see what secrets you've been hiding all this time."
And with that, he stood still, watching the sky intently, awaiting the storm that was about to break over Malian City.
Boom!
The earth shuddered violently, as if it had been struck by an unseen force.
On this seemingly ordinary night, the city of Malian was thrown into chaos. The sudden tremor jolted countless people from their sleep, hearts racing in panic.
"What's going on?"
"Is this an earthquake?!"
"Help! Someone, help!"
Panic spread like wildfire, rippling through every corner of the city as shouts echoed from every building, street, and alley. The ground continued to shake relentlessly, sending tremors through the city, as though some ancient force was stirring deep beneath it.
To the unprepared, it felt like the end of the world. The walls groaned, the air hummed with a strange energy, and fear gripped everyone who had the sense to realize the danger. For the average person, this was nothing short of terrifying. Earthquakes were merciless, and when nature's wrath descended, nothing could truly guarantee survival, not even for the powerful or the wealthy.
But then, as if to mock the terror below, something strange began to happen above.
People, still reeling from the quake, stumbled outside into the night. They looked up, their breath catching in their throats. The moon; once a serene, pale guardian of the night, was no longer the same. It hung in the sky, but now, its usual silvery glow had darkened, tinged with an unsettling crimson hue. Slowly, it seemed to bleed, as if the heavens themselves were opening a wound.
A blood moon.
The sight was unnerving, like a harbinger of doom. The air around it seemed to thicken, oppressive and foreboding. A terrifying energy seeped from the moon, wrapping itself around the city like a tightening noose.
"What in the world…?" A man stared up at the blood moon, his body frozen in place. "That smell... Why does it feel so familiar?" His voice quivered, a strange recognition flickering in his eyes. The longer he stared, the more the change overtook him. He shuddered as his skin began to warp and twist.
The once-soft skin hardened into rough, jagged scales, spreading across his body like wildfire. His hands contorted, claws emerging from his fingertips. The transformation was sudden and brutal. Around him, others were succumbing to the same fate. One by one, people who had stood there in confusion and terror began to howl in agony as their bodies contorted into monstrous forms. Their eyes, once human, glowed a bright, bloodshot red as they roared at the moon above, their voices filled with primal fury.
The crowd of transformed beings turned their gaze towards those who had yet to be affected, towards the helpless bystanders. The air thickened with violence, and a chilling, murderous intent spread throughout the city. The massacre had begun.
Harry stood, watching from a distance, his eyes narrowing in disbelief as he observed the chaos unfolding before him. The streets were filled with grotesque, mutated forms, wreaking havoc on everything in their path. His thoughts raced, trying to make sense of the unnatural scene.
"What is happening?" he muttered under his breath.
His gaze shifted, his mind racing back to something he had read long ago. The ancient texts, the forgotten records… They spoke of a time when gods and demons had walked the earth, bringing with them not just their divine power, but followers, humans who were not truly human, but descendants of these otherworldly beings.
Long ago, the gods and demons had vanished, leaving behind their followers, who grew independent as centuries passed. But within their blood, the ancient power of their celestial ancestors lingered, waiting for the right moment to awaken. It was clear to Harry now that something had triggered this awakening. The blood of the forgotten gods and demons was stirring again, and the city was paying the price.
As he watched, the ground trembled once more, louder this time, as though something beneath it had been disturbed.
*Bang!*
The earth groaned, cracking open in places. The very streets split apart, crumbling into jagged fractures. From the fissures, massive altars began to emerge, rising from the ground like ancient structures of power.
The altars were made of a strange white material, smooth yet etched with cryptic runes. They were not quite words, nor were they symbols anyone could readily recognize. They pulsed with an eerie energy, as though alive, drawing the eyes of all who gazed upon them, beckoning them closer. A strange compulsion seemed to settle over the onlookers, urging them to fall under the altars' power.
As the altars rose, a darker, more terrifying process began. Corpses; those who had fallen to the chaos, were pulled into the altars. The dead, too, seemed to be drawn to the ritual, their flesh and blood consumed by the altars. With each sacrifice, the altars began to glow, a faint but unmistakable light growing brighter with each passing moment.
The city was changing, twisting into something unrecognizable. The altars, glowing with an ominous light, stood as symbols of a forgotten power, an ancient force rising from the depths to reclaim what had once been theirs. The blood moon continued to shine down, bathing the city in its eerie, crimson glow, as the rituals; sacrifices, unfolded beneath its gaze.