Chapter 38: Crimson Rampage
The bottle sits heavy in my grasp, its weight amplified tenfold by the pressure of the moment. War cries tear through the night, a deafening, desperate cacophony. Soldiers surge forward, a human tide crashing into its counterpart, their captains cutting through the battlefield like executioners.
Time is a luxury I can't afford. Not now.
My grip tightens. The fragile glass shatters in my fist, and white-hot shards bite deep into my flesh. The pain should be unbearable. But it isn't. It's nothing. Just fuel.
The world warps. A feverish hunger rises within me, and my mind shatters beneath its weight. Thought, reason, and hesitation are swallowed whole. There's no more Cassian, no more control. There's only the bloodlust. My body moves without my command, faster than I can comprehend, tearing through the battlefield with the primal drive of a predator.
My vision narrows. The world is no longer people or soldiers. It's movement. It's bodies. It's death. The shards in my hand? Gone. The pain? Gone. It's all irrelevant now. There is only the hunger.
The battlefield drowns in shadow.
A mist, no, something far worse, churns like a living thing, swallowing the light, devouring sound. The air thickens, suffocating the world around me. But I don't care. I'm beyond it. I'm beyond anything but the fight.
I glance at my bleeding hand, now a mess of embedded slivers. The blood pools, but I don't even feel it. It's just a part of this, just another mark of the beast I've become.
"Why the actual fuck did I do that?" A chuckle bubbles up, a strange, hollow thing. "At least it probably looked cool."
[Activating Dark Sword Aura]
[Total Dark Aura: 20]
A swirling blackness coils around my blade, barely visible in the oppressive gloom. It pulses, tendrils of shadow licking hungrily along the steel. My grip tightens, and I'm one with the darkness.
I've never truly been a monster, until now.
[Activating Primal Berserk]
[Increasing all stats by 200%]
[Warning: Losing control in 3... 2... 1…]
Raw, primal power floods my veins, dousing thought in its violent tide. My body moves faster than I can track. The battlefield becomes a blur, a frenzied nightmare. Pain, blood, and death become a melody I can't stop dancing to. Every muscle is an instrument, tuned to perfection. Nothing hurts. Nothing matters. There is only the blood. The kill. The hunger.
My blade becomes an extension of my will, carving through armor and bone like water splitting against a rock. Each strike, a brutal rhythm. A rhythm that doesn't stop. That won't stop. Flesh tears beneath my onslaught, a slick, satisfying sound that echoes in my ears. Each victim, each kill, a brief moment of ecstasy.
Limbs scatter like discarded scraps, swallowed by the abyss, consumed by the darkness I now call home.
This is my domain now.
Then—
CLANG!
The momentum halts. My blade meets steel, parried with merciless precision. A pair of searing red eyes cut through the darkness, brimming with unrelenting fury.
The mercenary captain.
His aura burns, an inferno against my abyss. The air crackles with the clash of our blades, and I can feel the raw force rippling out with each strike, sending shockwaves through the night. His strength is immense, but it doesn't matter. I am beyond strength. I am the storm.
We trade blows, each strike a brutal test of endurance. The ground beneath us cracks with the force of our battle. He's good, too good. But I am faster, relentless. A blur of motion, a savage beast.
[Race: Tiefling]
[Level: 293 (47.2%)]
[Title: Captain]
[Skills: Captain's Command (S), Intuition (A), Swordsmanship (A), Hand-to-Hand Combat (B), Riding (B), Flame Aura (B), ...]
[Stats: Str-594, Agi-573, End-528, Int-313, Aura-522, Luck-144]
[Status effects: Furious, Grieving]
[Player: #23081]
[Level: 54 (62.7%)]
[Title: True Villain]
[Skills: True Villain (Zenith), Devil's Eye (God), Plot Armor (Unique), Hero's Growth (Unique), Noble Sacrifice (Unique), Merciless (Unique), Primal Berserk (Unique), Swordsmanship (B), Slaughterer (C), Shadow Servant (C), Dark Sword Aura (C), Torture (D), Pain Tolerance (D), Cold-Headed (D), Dark Dominion (D), Seed of Discord (D), Tracking (D), Despair Aura (F)]
[Stats: Str-642 (214), Agi-594 (198), End-522 (174), Int-249 (83), Mag-120 (40), Luck-339 (113), Dark Aura-60 (20)]
[Unallocated stat points: 0]
[Status effects: Primal Berserk]
I can't overpower him with raw stats alone. But I have something he doesn't.
Luck. And I don't feel pain.
The clash of our swords is deafening. Each strike sends shudders through my body, but I don't stop. I can't stop. I'm just a force, a machine of war, and nothing can break my momentum.
Then, a misstep, a momentary hesitation. I feel the cold bite of steel as his sword plunges into my gut. Blood floods my throat. I cough, tasting iron, but I don't stop. I don't even care.
His eyes flicker with something. I don't know what it is. Fear? Victory?
No. It's joy.
A wicked grin spreads across my face. My fingers clamp around his wrist, vice-like, and I lunge, teeth sinking into his throat.
The sound is wet, guttural, as flesh tears beneath my bite. He screams. Then confusion, then sheer horror. His grip falters.
I spit out the mangled flesh, grinning through bloodstained teeth.
Then—pain.
I don't react fast enough. A flash of motion. A blade from the side.
My left arm is gone.
The severed limb arcs through the air, blood trailing in its wake before landing with a sickening thud. My body reels, but I don't stop. Not yet.
Another flash of steel—
Then my leg is gone.
I collapse, the ground rising to meet me in slow motion. Blood pools around my broken form, my severed leg twitching uselessly beside me. My vision flickers, the world teetering between reality and oblivion.
But I don't care.
The mercenary captain stands over me, blade poised for the final strike.
[Time left on Primal Berserk: 00:53…]
[Adjustment Period: 12 Days 07:22:09…]
Is this where it ends?
No.
Not yet.