His clawed hand plunged into the chest of a soldier, tearing out his still-beating heart. He brought the piece of flesh to his lips, the blood dripping down his chin, as the lifeless body collapsed at his feet.
He grabbed the head of another guard. With brute force, he crushed it like a ripe fruit, pulverizing the bones and causing the skull to explode in a spray of brains. The cranial fragments fell softly to the ground. Linfer turned his head towards another group that was desperately trying to flee.
He leaped forward, catching up with the men in a few bounds. With a fluid gesture, he sliced off the head of one of them, the blood spraying in a red arc that splattered the cobblestones. He grabbed another soldier by the leg and lifted him like a doll, spinning him violently through the air before smashing him against a wall, breaking his body in a terrible crack.
"Yes, that's right, scream! Cry out for your savior! That bastard Uriel! And TELL HIM I'M BACK!"
Linfer reveled in the terror he inspired. His victims screamed, but no cry was loud enough to stop him. He took pleasure in seeing them crawl, begging for their lives, before crushing them like insects. Those he didn't kill instantly were mutilated, left for dead in pools of their own blood.
He loved to see them suffer. He often leaned over them, savoring their last moments, before sinking his fangs into their flesh, greedily drinking their blood. Each sip was a delicious nectar that fueled his madness. The warm liquid ran down his neck, soaking his already tattered clothes.
Linfer had left no fortress intact and had now turned his attention to the small villages around.
He arrived at dusk, and the first man he encountered was torn in two, his entrails spreading across the muddy ground. The children playing in the alleys were impaled on his claws, and he left them to agonize, their screams piercing the night.
The villagers tried to flee, but Linfer pursued them mercilessly. He tore open the doors of the houses, dragging out the women and the elderly to massacre them. He grabbed a woman by the throat and lifted her, squeezing until her bones cracked, while her face turned blue under the pressure. Her body fell, limp and lifeless, into the growing pool of blood.
Linfer advanced, a true living nightmare. Each village, each fortress, each large city that had the misfortune of crossing his path was reduced to a pile of ruins and mutilated bodies. Where his shadow passed, life itself seemed to be torn from this world.
The destruction reached its peak, screams of agony echoed endlessly, forming a terrifying cacophony that resonated in the streets. The blood flowed so abundantly that it began to flood the streets, the earth unable to absorb it all. It flowed like a torrent, staining every stone, every wall, with a deep red. Unable to use mana, he had resorted to his physical strength for his pleasure.
"He he he."
Linfer, at the heart of this carnage, laughed. A demented, uncontrollable laugh. He knelt down several times, plunging his hand into the pools of blood to bring it to his lips. He drank with a sickening greed, like a man who hadn't tasted water in centuries. The blood of mortals, or nearby Southern Elysians, flowed down his chin, dripped onto his chest, and he savored it, relishing every drop.
The more he killed, the more he drank, and his thirst seemed unquenchable. The corpses piled up, torn limbs floated on the surface of the rising blood, and soon, a scarlet sea extended for twenty kilometers around him. The viscous liquid now reached his thighs. Bodies, whole or shredded, floated in this sea of blood, some still vaguely conscious, their eyes open, unable to scream, but silent witnesses to the horror.
"Look!" he shouted at the floating bodies. "Where are you? Show yourselves!"
In this morbid sea, Linfer stood, triumphant. His laughter echoed again and again, cutting through the silence of the surrounding death. His eyes burned with an inhuman madness, and he raised his arms to the sky, as if he were saluting this red sea as his own kingdom.
Linfer had always killed with a purpose in mind. Each massacre, each mutilated body served a cause: creating new Wendigos, eradicating his enemies, or sowing terror. There was a logic behind his carnage, however perverse it may be. His actions, though bloody, answered a strategy. The pleasure he took in killing was just a bonus, an additional flavor in the chaos he unleashed.
But this time, something had changed. As he stood among the torn bodies, with blood soaking every inch of earth beneath his feet, a new feeling had awakened within him. It was no longer pleasure. No, pleasure had been eclipsed by something darker, more primitive. It was no longer hatred, vengeance, or a simple desire for domination. Linfer had surrendered to his most primal instinct: the need to devour.
He had reached the pinnacle of understanding of *Devour*, and thus of himself.
*Ba-Doom*
He stumbled, his inert heart, chained to his body, beginning to beat again.
*Ba-Doom*
The necklace around his neck began to glow.
*Ba-Doom*
He clutched his chest, overcome by intense pain. His heart had never beaten so violently. A groan escaped his lips as a tearing agony emanated from his soul.
*Ba-Doom*
In his heart, the chain cracked.
*Ba-Doom*
He collapsed to his knees, his head thrown back, his eyes rolled back, blood flowing from every orifice.
*Ba-Doom*
The sound resonated with such force that ripples formed around him in the sea of blood.
*Ba-Doom*
The blood boiled more and more, transforming into a whirlpool. He was at its center, while his silhouette drowned in a crimson blend...
***
In the vast manor of Iustitia, more precisely in an office with walls adorned with maps and manuscripts, a young man in golden armor sat behind a massive oak desk. His sparkling armor contrasted with the austerity of the place, he had short green hair, and piercing red eyes. With a closed face, he worked tirelessly, absorbed by reports on food rations, troop maintenance, and news of the war in the South. This young man was none other than Celest Jr., a prominent figure in the kingdom, just after Uriel. Even some angels bowed to his authority.
As he was immersed in his files, a soft *knock knock* sounded at the door.
"Come in!" he shouted without raising his eyes.
A young Elysian entered, bowing slightly. The somber expression on his face betrayed the urgency of the situation.
"Sire Celest, the situation is dire!"