As my hand stretched out toward the light, I felt the whole scene blur around me. The air grew heavy, and I dropped to the ground, writhing, feeling every muscle tense up as something intangible yet overwhelming tightened around me. Shadows twisted and writhed, wrapping me in darkness, until I couldn't tell where my own body ended and the darkness began. My vision flickered, and the light seemed to stretch further and further out of reach, like it was taunting me. My heartbeat echoed, each beat slower and fainter, as the sensation of losing control swallowed me whole. The only thing I could still sense was the oppressive weight of whatever had coiled around me, pulling me deeper into the dark.
Just as I felt myself slipping away completely, a single thought echoed in my mind:
Is this... the end?
As my eyes flickered open, harsh light spilled in, a blinding contrast to the dark, relentless nightmare I'd barely escaped. A rough voice barked, "He's awake—get him some water." I blinked, feeling the weight of exhaustion cling to me like a shroud. My whole body ached, bruised, and scraped from horrors that seemed almost surreal. Yet, reality bit harder as I took in the scene: a cage crammed with children, all around my age, faces hollow and painted with despair.
A tin cup of water was shoved into my hands, along with a few bitter berries.
I forced myself to eat, my gaze wandering to the boy beside me, his expression bleak.
"Where… are we?" I managed, barely a whisper.
He looked at me, his eyes filled with a grim understanding. "Captured by a tribe of orcs," he muttered. His words settled like lead in my stomach. Orcs—the ruthless slavers of the weak, enslaving anyone they found for amusement, labor, or worse. The kids around me were all trapped here, victims of the same fate.
The day faded, replaced by an ominous, brooding night. Heavy footsteps stomped closer, each thud tightening the knot of fear in my chest.
Two hulking figures appeared, their tusks gleaming in the dim light. One of the orcs reached for the cage door, and every child shrank back, terror filling their eyes. The metal creaked as it swung open, and the orcs shoved in a weary group, all bound and bruised.
Suddenly, a voice rang out—a girl's voice, breaking the silence with a cry of recognition.
"Big brother!"
One of the orcs turned, its grotesque face twisted in a sneer, and stepped into the cage. He reached out and gripped the young girl's arm. I felt the chill of dread settle over me, knowing exactly what they intended. But her brother sprang forward, fierce and unyielding. "No! Leave her alone!" he yelled, desperately grabbing her hand.
The orc's grin widened, and with a brutal swing, he flung the boy aside like he was nothing, his body smashing against the metal bars with a sickening crunch. The boy's head cracked against the cage, his eyes dulling as blood dripped down his face. But still, he tried to reach for his sister, gasping,
"Not her… please…"
I watched in horrified silence as the boy staggered back to his feet, drenched in desperation, clawing at the iron bars with raw, bloodied hands. His breaths came in shallow gasps as he pounded against the bars, a frenzied desperation radiating from him. His voice was hoarse, each shout ripping out of him as he called out for his sister—pleading, begging for her to be brought back. But the silence beyond the cage was impenetrable, cold.
Minutes passed. His strength gave way, and his fists dropped to his sides. His legs buckled, collapsing him to the ground. His hollow gaze remained fixed on the spot where his sister had disappeared, tears streaming down his face, mixing with the blood that dripped from fresh wounds on his forehead and hands.
With a trembling hand, he pressed his fingers against his temples, and in a heart-stopping moment of desperation, he slammed his head against the ground.
Once. Twice. A sickening crack echoed as his forehead split open, blood spraying against the dirt floor, splattering onto those around him. He let out a guttural scream, punctuating each collision of his head against the ground, a haunting symphony of pain and loss.
In that moment, he was unrecognizable—a figure lost to agony, the life he once knew shattered, as his cries faded into shallow sobs. The children around him cowered, horrified by the sight, some clutching each other as they averted their gazes. Blood pooled on the floor, and his battered, defeated body lay still, the final echoes of his despair hanging in the air.
Watching him break so completely, the reality of our hopelessness sank deeper into me. In this place, in this nightmarish prison, escape felt like a distant, unreachable dream.
Blood. The word screamed in my mind, echoing again and again, louder each time, an unrelenting, malevolent chant—BLOOD... BLOOD... BLOOD!!! It felt like my entire being was submerged in it. The voice wasn't just in my head; it felt like it was tearing through my very soul, as if the desire for blood had become a monstrous entity of its own.
I collapsed to my knees, gasping for air as my vision blurred to a deep, sickening red. My hands flew to my ears, desperate to drown out the voice that clawed at my sanity. But even as I tried to fight it, my body betrayed me. Trembling, I found myself hunched over something warm and solid. As my vision returned, I recoiled in horror. I was kneeling next to the boy's corpse, the lifeless eyes still fixed in eternal torment.
With a shudder, I realized my mouth was full of something foul, metallic. Instinctively, I spat it out, pieces of raw, blood-soaked flesh falling from my lips. My hands—a hand clawed deeply into his remains, gripping yet more of the torn flesh. The other hand clenched a bloodied chunk, as if it had claimed it.
A tremor of fear swept through me, intensifying as I looked up to meet the horrified eyes of everyone else trapped in the cage. They looked at me with terror, recoiling as though I were some kind of monster. And then, before I could make sense of it, another surge of agony wracked my body. The voice was back, darker, more insidious.
Blood... NEED... MORE BLOOD!
My body moved on its own, my mind drowning in the primal hunger of whatever darkness had latched onto me. I was a passenger in my own flesh, powerless as the consuming bloodlust took hold.
As I regained consciousness, the drop of water on my face pulled me back from the dark. But this time, there was no relief—only dread. The memories of that ceaseless cycle of torment, of death and resurrection, clung to me like a suffocating shadow. My whole body ached, drenched, as I struggled to make sense of what surrounded me.
I blinked, expecting to see the walls of my cage, the familiar sight of others trapped, like me. But what I saw instead was a horror beyond words: a sea of blood pooled around me, thick and warm, staining my clothes and hands. Limbs lay scattered—lifeless and twisted—fingers frozen in terror, mouths open in final screams that would never be heard. These were not the faces of monsters. No, they were the faces of the people I'd come to know, the ones who shared this hopeless cage with me, who dared to show kindness in this living nightmare.
My heart pounded, and my hands trembled as I realized they were coated in crimson, my own fingers wrapped in the remains of someone else's life. I couldn't breathe. Panic clawed at my chest. My mouth felt dry, yet the metallic tang of blood clung to my lips, and I recoiled, gagging as pieces of flesh fell from my teeth. I stumbled backward, horrified, my mind racing to make sense of it, the bile rising as the taste of blood lingered.
"No...no, no, no..."
I muttered in disbelief, but even my voice betrayed me, a low, guttural tone foreign to my own ears. And then, just as I thought I couldn't bear it any longer, a dark voice, deep and ancient, reverberated within me, a sound that twisted around my thoughts like chains, binding and suffocating.
"Blood...more blood...you need MORE BLOOD!"
it demanded, with a hunger that felt boundless, overwhelming. It roared, clawing at my insides, driving a primal, animalistic urge to consume, to destroy.
In that moment, I felt my control slipping, as if I were merely a passenger in my own body. Helplessly, I watched as my own limbs obeyed, guided by that voice, that insatiable hunger. A scream built within me, but it was swallowed by the darkness rising, filling me, drowning every shred of humanity I thought I still had.
Scene shifts to kingdom of daxin:15 years have passed since lukes birth
Luke's left eye glows with an intense red, bloodshot and fierce, while his right remains half-open, a cold, crystal blue that flickers in pain. His body trembles violently, spasms wracking through him like electric shocks, while his muscles tighten in agony. His chest rises and falls with shallow, desperate breaths, each one a struggle as though he's suffocating from the inside out.
The pain is endless, like flames licking at his skin, searing him from the inside. His veins pulse, filled with molten fire, as though his very blood is turning to lava. His head pounds with a maddening intensity, as if every single nerve is screaming out for release, but there is none. His limbs twitch involuntarily, the sensation of being torn apart inch by inch with every movement. The world around him seems to blur and shift, his vision swaying as his body fights against the overwhelming force tearing him apart.
His hand, trembling, claws at the sheets, each finger contorted with the pain of muscles that had long been still. He tries to scream, but his voice catches, trapped in his throat, as the unbearable agony renders him silent. His whole being feels fractured, like his own body is a cage, and he's the prisoner, battling to break free.
The room around him feels suffocating, the machinery that's been keeping him alive now a distant hum compared to the roar of his own mind, struggling to catch up with the flood of sensations. His body is aching, raw, unhealed in ways he cannot yet comprehend.
Suddenly, in a violent, instinctive motion, his leg bumps into a nearby table, sending its contents clattering to the floor. The noise echoes, sharp, cutting through the heavy air. A servant rushes in, her footsteps frantic. But in that split second of her entering the room, something changes in Luke—a dark, unnatural liquid begins to seep from his arm, as though it's alive, crawling and writhing like an extension of his very soul.
Before she can react, Luke is upon her. With a speed and force that shatters the air, he slashes through her, splitting her body in half. The clean, horrifying cut slices through her with brutal precision, not stopping until it breaks the stone wall behind her, sending a shockwave so powerful that the entire castle trembles, its walls quaking in fear. The force of the attack causes part of the castle's structure to collapse, sending debris scattering.
The noise and chaos alert everyone within the castle, setting off a chain of panic, but it's already too late. The quiet, once calm world of the castle has been shattered in a single, deadly strike, leaving behind a silence that echoes with the death of an innocent soul.
The transformation in Luke is evident—he is no longer the boy who had slept for so long. He is something far darker, a force beyond control, born from the abyss.
As the boy steps forward, his expression remains chillingly emotionless. His cold gaze locks onto the body now split in two, the brutal aftermath of his own actions. An intense aura fills the room, an overwhelming bloodlust that suffocates the air around him. His body moves with a deadly calm, and in an instant,
The sudden, sharp sound of steel slicing through the air is the only warning before a blade presses against his throat. The boy doesn't flinch. In the blink of an eye, he's gone, leaving nothing but a wisp of disturbed air behind. He appears behind his assailant, his sword drawn in one fluid motion, an expression of cold fury written across his face. He doesn't hesitate; his sword crashes into his opponent's with a violent clang. The woman, with her white hair cascading like silk, meets his strength blow for blow, but it's evident—she's outmatched. The boy is a force of nature, his movements laced with a primal fury that echoes from some deep, buried place inside him, as though his very soul thirsts for blood.
As the boy swings his sword to strike down the woman before him, the room itself seems to twist. The gravity shifts, and suddenly he's on the ground, struggling to rise. But in this moment of vulnerability, he opens his mouth, his voice an eerie, chilling whisper that sends shivers down everyone's spine.
"Fukkatsu…"
His voice echoes through the stillness, barely a whisper at first, but the very syllable seems to twist reality around him, creating a palpable tremor in the air. The ground cracks beneath his feet as the energy rips the corpse apart once more, reforming it into a monstrous, writhing mass of horror—an entity born of the darkest magic, resurrected to serve its creator's twisted will.
The newly formed creature lunges forward, claws extending like death itself. It strikes with a speed that could break the very fabric of existence, its fury unleashed in a single violent motion and the woman, caught off-guard, is forced to defend herself from this new horror, this new twisted creature brought back from the abyss.
The boy rises, his body moving with a grace that belies the chaos around him. His expression remains unchanged, almost inhuman in its stillness. His eyes narrow as he watches the white-haired woman struggle against the monstrosity he has created, his gaze flickering toward the red-haired woman now standing frozen in shock.
his expression softening for a brief moment as memories flood back to him. His eyes narrow, recognition flashing through his mind.
"Anna Hartz," he murmurs softly,