Once my punishment had run its course, a strange calm overtook me. The forest, as still as death, stretched out beneath me, and the only sound was my footsteps crunching softly through the underbrush. Each step was met with a dull ache—an ever-present reminder of what I had just endured—but it was a kind of pain I could live with.
And yet… something felt amiss.
The walk back to the cabin should have been a straightforward affair, but it wasn't. The silence, once comforting, now hung too heavy in the air, pressing on my lungs like a thick fog. It was wrong, somehow, but not wrong enough to spark alarm… not yet.
That is, until I saw the footprints.
Deep indentations in the earth—wide, deliberate. Not the clumsy marks of an animal, but too wild for a human's tread. My pulse began to quicken, the hair on the back of my neck prickling with that strange twinge of forewarning.
Then came the claw marks—long, jagged rakes in the bark of a nearby tree. Fresh. So fresh, in fact, that splinters still clung to the gouges. A sickening feeling twisted in my gut as I realized the truth: something unnatural had passed through here, and recently.
My senses sharpened, the hairs on my body standing on end as I neared the cabin. Then, the scent hit me—a thick, metallic stench, overpowering and nauseating.My senses sharpened, the hairs on my body standing on end as I neared the cabin. Then, the scent hit me—a thick, metallic stench, overpowering and nauseating.
Blood.
The cabin door was ajar, swaying slightly in the wind, its hinges groaning softly like a dying animal. From within came the unmistakable sound of something wet. Slurping. Tearing.
I dropped the duffle bag from my back and reached into it, pulling out [Hjálparhönd]. Her hands stretched outward in silent obedience, and I commanded her to circle behind the cabin, preparing to block all possible exits. Her main body, I instructed, would remain elevated above, giving us a tactical advantage. I gave her my reasoning—that her large surface area would give her the best vantage point—and I didn't bother to mention the real reason: I was protecting her.
Armed with the [COMH], I stepped forward into the grim scene awaiting me inside.
It was there—waiting.
It towered over the wreckage of a human body, a grotesque monolith of nightmare. More than 243 centimeters of raw muscle, broad shoulders, thick limbs, and feet like jagged claws.
Its face was somewhere between a twisted caricature of a hyena and a hyper-realistic rendition, its elongated snout twitched as it tore into flesh. Yellowed fangs gnashed, slick with fresh blood.
The beast was gorging itself.
On a human.
A person.
A man—one whose interests mirrored my own, a man who I should have been apologizing to.
A man who had come to a tragic, twisted end.
I felt the walls of the cabin constrict around me, the very air growing thick with tension. My mind swam in the grotesque sounds of tearing flesh, gnawing bone, the sickening squelch of muscles being ripped apart. The creature ate slowly, deliberately, like a glutton at a feast, its breath ragged and heavy, the scent of death mingling with the sharp, acrid tang of blood.
The thing paused briefly, sucking the innards of the body clean. Its fur, matted with gore, glinted faintly in the moonlight as its eyes flickered to me, a glint of recognition.
What the hell is this?
What…
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING YOU MONSTER?!"
The creature's ears twitched.
Its head turned, and for the first time, our eyes met.
It continued to devour the body, its jaws slack and dripping. The man's upper body, now nothing more than a limp rag, hung loosely from the creature's maw. Despite its mouth being full, the thing attempted to speak, its voice guttural, its words muffled by the food in its mouth.
"mE eatinG."
I glared at the monster, disgust rising like bile in my throat.
"You think I can't see that you bastard?! Why the hell you came here?!"
The creature continued chewing, eyes glazed with hunger as it stared at me.
"mE nO comE herE. mE alwayS beeN herE. mE beeN asleeP."
Always been here? Asleep?
A creature like this had been living in these woods all this time? How long? How had it come to be?
But no—those questions were irrelevant now.
The real question, the one that rattled in my skull, was—why had it woken up?
"Why did you wake up?"
The creature scratched its face and gestured toward its snout with a twisted claw.
"mE smelleD [WITCH] blooD."
THUMP
THUMP
THUMP
It was my blood that had awoken it. The realization hit like a punch to the gut.
My blood.
My foolish attempt at self-punishment.
But—there was something else. Something didn't make sense.
If it smelled my blood, why hadn't it come after me earlier? Why hadn't it attacked me then and there?
I narrowed my eyes.
"Why didn't you come to me if it was my blood you smelt?!"
The creature smiled—a horrific, jagged grin, eyes flickering with malicious joy.
"becausE [WITCHES] arE scarY. nO neeD tO hunT theM wheN weaK humanS arounD."
I see.
This changes everything.
The thing was a coward.
My initial plan had been to wait until it had finished its meal, to strike when it was full and sluggish. But now… now, that seemed like foolishness. This thing would flee the moment it realized I intended to fight.
So, I had no choice. I had to keep it here.
This thing would simply run away the moment it realized I was going to attack it.
So my only choice is to keep it here. I inhaled deeply, clearing my mind, and then—one word. One simple command.
"Hrifsa."
The moment the word left my mouth, [HELPING HANDS] surged into the cabin, flying towards the beast. With precision, they snatched up the remaining upper half of its meal and darted toward the door, pulling the flesh from its grip.
The creature's eyes widened in childish surprise, and without another thought, it charged after the hands, its limbs flailing.
It didn't even notice me standing there, unmoving. It was too focused on the bait.
I allowed it to pass by, momentarily relieved that the creature was distracted, though a part of me regretted the opportunity to strike. But then again, my body, battered and weakened from my earlier executions, was not in prime condition to face something of its caliber as it is.
I watched as the thing—utterly oblivious to my presence—rushed after the hands. Disgust churned in my stomach, but I focused, raising my hand, four fingers extended.
Four more hands—one for each wrist, each ankle—shot forth with alarming speed.
The creature continued its pursuit, completely unaware of the hands now latched onto its limbs.
"Brenna."
The hands squeezed, heat blossoming around them like an inferno. The thing shrieked, twisting in pain, but it couldn't escape. The hands pulled its limbs apart, tightening their grip, forcing it to slow.
"iT burnS! iT burnS!"
It roared in agony, struggling futilely, its body twitching, spasming under the heat. But still, the creature continued to fight, relentless and wild.
Predicting the creature's next futile attempt to wriggle free, I act quickly, requesting four additional hands. They shoot forward like spectral daggers, diving straight into the monster's maw just as it tries to tear away the hands tethered to its wrists. The creature roars in frustration, its throat choked with limbs, unable to expel the intruders now lodged in its mouth.
A guttural, panicked gurgle vibrates through its chest. Its teeth grind against the foreign appendages, each desperate attempt to bite down only stoking the flames that follow.
"Brenna."
The hands occupying its maw ignite and begin burning it's mouth.
The inferno spreads quickly, the heat so intense that its jaws, already misshapen by its savage bites, begin to fuse together. The skin along its lips blackens, sizzling with the violent burn as the upper and lower halves of its mouth meld. With each passing moment, the creature's airways grow tighter, its breath stuttering and desperate, just enough space left to allow the faintest gasp between the searing pain.
Yet, just enough space has been deliberately left to allow it to breathe.
My reasoning is simple.
I don't simply want to kill it.
That would be… unproductive.
I want its suffering—its slow, agonizing descent into death—to serve a purpose.
A purpose I'll be forced to explain to [Hjálparhönd] when she inevitably questions the reckless, irrational choices I'm about to make.
I stepped forward, voice low and deliberate, but full of venom.
"Monster. Tell me, have you ever been in a bout of strength?"
The thing didn't answer, too lost in pain to form a coherent thought. But I continued, undeterred.
"Monster. What we are about to engage in is a bout of strength. Taking turns we are going to hit each other with a singular blow. We will continue this until one of us can no longer attack the other."
I paused, letting the words sink in.
"Of course as with all contest the winner will be rewarded. If I win I'll pluck the flesh from your bones until you're nothing but a pile of gore."
The creature bared its teeth, but did not respond.
"And if you win, I'll go ahead and let you live.
Do you understa—?"
BOOM
A powerful, almost explosive blow is let loose upon my chest. My body flew backward, crashing into the ground. Pain flared up, and I felt the air leave my lungs in a rush.
The creature lunged, fists raised, ready to bludgeon me into submission. I could see the fury in its eyes—the raw, animalistic rage.
A foolish endeavor.
Its movement is halted by the hands gripping its wrists and ankles. I had allowed the first blow to land—a calculated risk.
Having endured the brutal punishment from [Hjálparhönd], I now found myself curious. How much could my body withstand? How far could it endure the strength of the supernatural before breaking?
I rise, slowly, each muscle in my body creaking in protest as I stagger to my feet. My gaze remains fixed on the creature's grotesque form, that twisted, bloated visage that radiates nothing but malice.
I plant my feet solidly into the earth, grounding myself. My muscles coil like a spring—tight, controlled, ready.
In a split second, my legs exploded with power launching my body skyward. My fist clenched tight knuckles aimed for the underside of the creature's jaw.
My entire body rotated mid-ascent, momentum twisting my torso as my fist caved an arc through the air. The sheer force of the rising punch sent shockwaves through the thing's skull. Its head snapped back and its feet lifted off the ground.
This move was a feat that defied gravity. A technique only possible because of the [COMH] that could lift me from the ground and accommodate my unnatural movements.
This was the first move of the [NEW MEGIDO BLADE STYLE].
The [Vaxandi Illgirni].
After my feet made contact with the ground I looked at the thing on the floor as it twitched.
It was still alive.
Good.
"Get up Monster. You're strong aren't you? You'd have to be to think of humans as food, no?"
The thing rises to its feet, unbothered, and our bout begins anew.
For a combined total of 47 blows.
How pathetic. Despite all my taunts and bravado, I lost. The satisfaction I had expected evaporates like smoke. The bitter taste of failure lingers in the back of my throat, sour and unyielding.
As I lay there, broken, every part of me screaming in agony, the creature—a savage, triumphant thing—raises its hands to the sky. It dances. Dances.
Its crude form shakes with a jubilant, almost childlike ecstasy as it celebrates its hollow victory. I should be repulsed by the sight, but instead, something darker stirs within me—an unrelenting envy.
Right now I am like a man whose sacrifice was rejected while his brother's was accepted.
I am spiteful and envious.
And just like that man, I will destroy the thing whose joy angers me so.
"Binda"
The hands on the thing's wrist tighten and it is lifted up into the air and spread out with its face pointed towards the sky.
The creature looks at me as if asking "why?".
I let out an obnoxious grin.
A part of me is ashamed for the tone I am about to take with a monster that rightfully defeated me but another part wants to be shameless.
Like a man who questions whether he is his brothers keeper.
"Look to the sky and weep monster!
Like those who appear similar to you, does that moon also beckon you?!
If so let it witness your demise!
Your great humiliation!
Scream!
Howl!
Lament and be Dismal!
Know that before the [WITCH]: OF [DOLLS] you and your ilk are nothing but kindling for my [WITCHCRAFT]."
And with that, I can already feel the sweet promise of [VangaVeltur] in the air, ripe for harvest. As the creature's mind falters, lost in its final, agonizing moments, its body becomes little more than a vessel for my purpose.
"Plokka!"
The word is a command, a sharp crack that echoes in the still night. And as it rings through the air, the hands surge forward like a flood of ravenous locusts, swarming the creature's battered form. They rip and tear, plucking away at the flesh, tearing through the meat and bone with cold, practiced efficiency.
The beast's body jerks in spasms, a final reflex to the unrelenting agony, but it is helpless against the hands that strip it of everything that once made it formidable. Bit by bit, piece by piece, the creature that once stood towering and proud is reduced to nothing more than a pile of bloody, mangled gore at my feet.
I cannot deny that I take pleasure in this grisly display even more so knowing that the vile existence of this thing will give way to something far greater, something worthwhile, something I can shape with my hands.