Bruno felt his lungs tightening up, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. His limbs grew unbearably heavy, as if an unseen force was wringing the strength from his muscles. The world around him blurred, his vision darkening at the edges. He tried to fight it—he told himself he wouldn't sleep—but the drug in the food was far too strong.
His body gave in. Darkness swallowed him whole.
A ringing sound tore through his mind. Deep, echoing, and unnatural. Not just in his ears—it resonated inside his bones. The distant chime of a great bell.
And then—
Bruno's eyes snapped open.
He wasn't in the village chief's house anymore. He was standing in a vast, empty space, suffocating under the weight of an unseen force. It was dark, but not an ordinary kind of darkness—this was thick, like ink, shifting and alive.
Something was watching him.
A single voice echoed in the void, low and stretched, as if it came from something ancient and dying.
"What will you offer?"
Bruno's pulse pounded in his ears. Offer? To what? He turned, searching the nothingness, but there was no escape. No horizon. Just endless black.
Then—a pale, skeletal hand reached out from the void.
Bruno gasped, jolting awake.
He was back in the village chief's house, his heart hammering in his chest. The wooden walls warped in his vision, distorting as if the room itself was breathing.
Beside him, Raine stirred, her expression twisted in discomfort. She murmured something, barely audible. She had been drugged too.
Bruno tried to move—but his wrists were bound. Thick, coarse rope dug into his skin, holding him tightly to the chair. His head throbbed, and his stomach churned as the effects of the drug lingered.
A heavy silence loomed over the room.
Then, a voice shattered it.
"The time is running out," the village chief's voice rang out. "We must complete the offering before it's too late."
Bruno lifted his head, forcing his blurred vision to focus. The chief stood near the doorway, his shadow flickering unnaturally. Behind him, the other villagers waited, their faces eerily calm.
But something was wrong.
Their eyes—they were empty. Completely void of light, as if they weren't human anymore.
Bruno's stomach dropped. This wasn't just a ritual. It was a sacrifice.
And they were the offering.
A soft scraping sound.
Bruno turned his head slightly—Silas.
The man sat a few feet away, bound just like him, but something was different. His expression wasn't panicked. He was… waiting. Calculating.
Then Bruno noticed it.
The ropes around Silas's wrists—they were loose.
He had freed himself.
Bruno barely had time to react before Silas made his move.
A blade of darkness materialized in his hand. Not steel, not something physical—it was pure void, shifting like living shadow. He sliced through the remaining restraints in one swift motion.
Before the villagers could react, he lunged.
The nearest villager let out a warped cry—but it was cut short as Silas's blade of darkness slashed through his throat. There was no blood. Just silence. The man collapsed, his body crumbling like burnt paper, disintegrating into ash.
The room erupted into chaos.
Varen moved next. He had been conscious the entire time, biding his time just like Silas. With a grunt, he ripped through his restraints using brute strength, his muscles straining.
Then, in a fluid motion, he pull his one hand up chanting a spell, a sword came flying.
The relic sword gleamed, a dark crimson light pulsing through its metal. Varen calculated his strikes—he could only swing a limited number of times before the sword consumed too much of his energy and corrupt his mind.
One strike.
He stepped forward, his blade cleaving through 6 villagers at once. The sheer power of the slice cut through houses.
Two strikes.
Five fell, their body splitting apart unnaturally, as if reality itself rejected him.
Bruno gritted his teeth, his own strength returning as the drug wore off. He felt something inside him stir—his ability. The Abyssal Fragment within him pulsed, and the ropes binding him twisted unnaturally before unraveling on their own.
He was free.
Raine gasped beside him, still sluggish. Bruno didn't hesitate—he reached over, grabbing her arm.
"Raine, wake up. We have to move!"
She blinked rapidly, confusion flashing in her eyes. But when she saw the scene around them—the bloodless bodies crumbling, Silas and Varen cutting through the villagers with terrifying efficiency—she snapped back to reality.
The ground shook violently.
And then, the final bell tolled.
The Transformation
The remaining villagers froze in place.
Then, all at once—they screamed.
It wasn't human. It was something primal, something wrong. Their bodies convulsed, their skin bubbling like boiling tar. Limbs melted together, faces fused, flesh twisted unnaturally.
Bruno took a step back, eyes widening in horror.
"It's happening," Varen muttered, his grip tightening on his relic sword. "This… is the real ritual."
A grotesque mass of fused bodies rose before them, writhing and pulsing as if it were one single, living entity.
In the center of the nightmare, a face formed—a skull-like visage, its hollow eyes locked onto them.
"YOU HAVE DENIED THE OFFERING," it spoke, but its voice was not one. It was a chorus of voices, hundreds, thousands—screaming, whispering, laughing, crying.
The world trembled.
Bruno felt his own body growing weaker, as if something was draining the very essence of his being. His Abyssal Fragment pulsed again—as if responding to the god's presence.
This was it.
The Forgotten God had awakened.
And it was going to devour them all.
[To Be Continued...]