The wind stings my face as I approach the village, its icy breath biting at my skin, its chill creeping into my bones. It is not the storm that chills me, but the smell of death in the air—the iron tang of blood, the scent of suffering that has been allowed to fester too long.
The cries of the villagers cut through the wind, their desperation hanging in the air like smoke. The sound grips me, twisting something deep inside me. This is no ordinary village. These people are not simply suffering—they are dying, piece by piece.
As I draw closer, the shadows of the village loom larger, more oppressive. It is silent except for the anguished moans carried by the wind. And then I see it—him.
The titan.
He stands in the center of the village, his immense form casting a monstrous shadow over everything. His body is made of twisted, grotesque flesh and jagged stone, a savage blend of the earth and something far darker. But it is not his size that strikes terror into the hearts of the villagers—it is the way he moves, how he hunts them. His eyes gleam with malice, and every step he takes leaves a trail of destruction behind him.
He is no mere beast.
He is a serial killer.
This creature, this titan, does not just ravage and destroy for survival—he kills for sport. He picks his victims, tortures them, and revels in their suffering. He forces the villagers to work until their bodies break, their souls drain. But that is not enough for him. Every few days, he selects one—a man, a woman, a child—and drags them into the darkness. No one knows what he does to them, but the screams that follow tell the story better than words ever could.
I can see them now—villagers with hollow eyes, their bodies worn thin from endless labor, too frightened to resist. They are broken, their wills shattered under the weight of the titan's cruel, unyielding presence. But worse, they are resigned. They have learned to accept that death comes for them all in one form or another.
I can feel it then—the storm inside me that has been building ever since I learned of my sister's fate, ever since I became the Shattered One. This is not just about vengeance. This is about mercy. For these people, for my sister, for every soul this titan has taken.
I step forward, the earth trembling beneath my feet. The titan hears me before he sees me, his head jerking up with a violent motion. His eyes burn with an unholy fire as he turns to face me, his lips curling into a grotesque smile.
"A new plaything," he growls, his voice like the rumble of a landslide. "Let's see if you're more interesting than the others."
I don't respond. I cannot waste words on something so vile.
He lumbers toward me, his footsteps causing the ground to crack beneath him. His massive hand reaches down, and with terrifying speed, he grabs one of the villagers, lifting them off the ground with ease. The poor soul cries out, her voice desperate and pleading, but the titan merely laughs, his dark eyes flickering with sadistic amusement.
"Let her go," I growl, drawing the Ashen Blade.
The titan's laughter dies in his throat, and he turns, looking me up and down as if appraising me. "You're bold, I'll give you that. But that will be your undoing."
Without warning, the titan throws the villager aside like a ragdoll, sending her crashing to the ground. She is still. Her body is limp, lifeless. He killed her without a second thought, his cruelty nothing but a game.
I see red.
I charge.
The Ashen Blade sings through the air as I strike, aiming for the titan's leg. The blade cleaves through the thick, stone-like flesh, but it barely leaves a scratch. The titan roars in fury, swinging a massive fist toward me with enough force to shatter bones. But I am faster. I dodge, rolling beneath the blow, and rise to strike again.
Each slash digs deeper into its flesh, the blade cutting through the hardened exterior like a knife through soft flesh. But the titan doesn't seem to care. His massive form absorbs the blows as though they are nothing.
The titan's twisted smile widens, and he grabs a nearby boulder, hurling it toward me with monstrous strength. I leap to the side, the rock missing me by inches as it crashes into the ground behind me, sending shards of stone flying.
His massive, gnarled hand swings down once more, but I dive beneath it, my blade carving through the titan's exposed side. This time, I strike deeper. The titan howls in pain, but the sound is guttural, animalistic.
And then, I see it—the heart. Deep within its chest, just beneath layers of stone and flesh, lies the beating core of this savage beast.
I don't hesitate.
With a final roar, I leap into the air, the Ashen Blade raised high. I plunge it into the heart of the titan, the sound of shattering stone filling the air. The titan lets out one final, shrieking howl of rage, his body convulsing in agony as his immense form staggers backward.
I pull the blade free, and the titan crumbles to the ground in a heap of broken stone and twisted flesh.
Silence follows. The village is still. The only sound is the faint crackling of flames, the distant echoes of a struggle that has ended.
I stand over the titan's fallen body, my chest heaving, my body covered in blood. The storm inside me rages, but it's not the storm of the world. It's the storm inside me, the one that will never cease.
The villagers emerge from the shadows, their eyes wide, their faces a mix of disbelief and awe. Some fall to their knees, others stare at the fallen titan in shock.
But it is not their thanks I crave. It is the quiet justice of a monster slain. A maniac who thought he could take, could torture, could kill without consequence. He thought wrong.
But as the villagers begin to gather, preparing to celebrate my victory, I feel it—the storm that follows me. The one I cannot escape. The winds shift, and I know that this victory will be short-lived.
A chill runs through me. And then, as if summoned by the storm itself, the clouds gather.
The sky darkens, and the wind picks up, howling like a hungry beast. The village, the people, the fleeting relief they had won... all of it is drowned by the storm that I cannot outrun.
The storm comes for them all.
And the celebration turns to screams