Chapter 17: The Night of Anholt
The darkness of Anholt enveloped me the moment my boots hit the damp sand. The air was thick with mist and the scent of decay, mingled with something even more sinister—something I couldn't quite place. The faint cries and distant screams of other recruits echoed through the air, their voices swallowed by the fog. I glanced around, barely making out the shifting shapes of my competitors as they splintered off in different directions. No one spoke. There was no camaraderie here, only survival.
I took a deep breath, steadying myself. As I moved away from the shoreline, the sensation hit me—a strange, almost magnetic pull that seemed to tug at something deep within my chest. It was subtle at first, like a faint whisper beckoning me forward. But with each step I took, it grew stronger, more insistent. Whatever it was, it was luring me somewhere.
And I wasn't about to ignore it.
I moved cautiously through the dense underbrush, every sense heightened, aware that danger could come from any direction. The trees around me were gnarled and twisted, their branches reaching out like skeletal hands, the leaves blackened and lifeless. The ground beneath my feet squelched with a sickening wetness, each step leaving a faint impression of deep red sludge.
That pull—whatever it was—kept me moving forward. I wasn't sure what I expected to find, but it had to be something important. The screams grew louder in the distance, followed by guttural growls and the heavy thud of flesh against flesh. Someone was fighting for their life, but I didn't stop. I couldn't. This was a test—survival of the fittest, and I was no one's savior.
After what felt like an eternity of wandering through the nightmarish forest, I saw it—a faint glow ahead. A patch of silver-white flowers growing in a clearing, their petals shimmering like moonlight against the dark soil. The Flower of Xenus. A chill ran down my spine as I approached, its ethereal beauty stark against the backdrop of death and suffering that surrounded it.
But the closer I got, the more I realized something was terribly wrong. The flowers weren't just growing out of the soil. They were sprouting from something—a dark, wet mass sprawled on the ground, its outline barely visible in the shadowy clearing. My instincts screamed at me to turn back, but I forced myself to move closer, ignoring the way my pulse hammered in my ears.
When I stepped into the clearing, the metallic stench hit me full force, making my stomach twist in revulsion. I looked down… and nearly staggered back.
The flowers were rooted in the torn, bloodied remains of a body. What was left of it, anyway. The torso was twisted, the skin flayed and pulled back in jagged strips, revealing the glistening red muscle and the delicate white bones beneath. The recruit's guts spilled out onto the ground in a grotesque tangle, steam rising faintly in the cold night air. His chest was ripped open, the ribs shattered and splayed out like the broken shell of some grotesque creature.
But it was the face—or what remained of it—that made bile rise in my throat.
The lower jaw had been torn away completely, leaving the tongue hanging limply down the throat. One of the eyes dangled from its socket by a thin strand of muscle, the other staring sightlessly at the sky, wide with a terror I could almost feel. Blood stained the ground around the body, pooling in thick, dark patches that seemed to shimmer with an unnatural sheen.
Whoever this had been, they hadn't just been killed. They'd been butchered. Torn apart piece by piece, like some sick experiment. My hand tightened around the hilt of my sword, the steel cool and comforting against my palm.
The growl came out of nowhere—low, guttural, vibrating through the air like the rumble of a distant storm. I froze, every muscle tensing, my eyes scanning the darkness. Slowly, I crouched down, blending into the shadows as I peered around the clearing.
Something shifted on the far side of the clearing, a dark shape hunched low to the ground. A demon, its massive form barely visible in the murky gloom. It was crouched over another body, one clawed hand raking through the entrails with a sickening squelch. Blood dripped from its maw, its eyes glowing a malevolent red in the darkness.
It hadn't seen me yet. I could turn back now, retreat to the safety of the woods, pretend I hadn't seen any of this. But the pull—whatever it was—held me in place. My gaze drifted back to the flowers, then to the mangled remains they were growing from.
No. I couldn't leave. Not yet.
Keeping my movements slow and deliberate, I edged closer, my breath coming shallow and quiet. The demon's growl deepened, its muscles bunching as it tore a chunk of flesh from the corpse, gnawing on it with a sickening crunch. I watched, waiting, every nerve on fire.
Then it looked up, its gaze locking onto mine.
For a heartbeat, everything was still. The forest, the demon, even the air itself seemed to freeze. And then, with a bone-chilling snarl, it lunged.
I barely had time to react, throwing myself to the side as it crashed into the ground where I'd been standing. The impact sent dirt and blood spraying into the air, the force of it rattling through my bones. I rolled to my feet, sword drawn, and faced the creature.
It was massive, easily twice my height, with bulging muscles covered in thick, leathery skin. Its head was a grotesque mockery of a human face, twisted and deformed, the mouth too wide and filled with rows of jagged, yellowed teeth. Blood and viscera dripped from its maw as it snarled, the sound reverberating through the clearing.
But it was the eyes that sent a chill down my spine. Those glowing red eyes, filled with a hatred so deep and primal it felt like it could burn through my very soul.
"Who… are you?" the demon rasped, its voice a guttural snarl that seemed to scrape against my mind. It tilted its head, sniffing the air, then bared its teeth in a savage grin. "You smell… different. Like *him*."
My grip tightened on the hilt of my sword, my heart hammering in my chest. "Him?" I echoed, keeping my voice steady, though my mind raced. What the hell was it talking about?
"Yes… him," the demon growled, its grin widening. "The one who did this to me… The one who made me what I am." Its gaze drifted to the shattered body on the ground, something like pain flickering in its eyes. "He promised… to make it stop. Promised I'd be strong. And then… he left me here. Left me to *this*."
It let out a low, keening howl, the sound echoing through the clearing. Then it turned back to me, its expression twisting with rage. "And now… you show up, smelling like him. Like that sword of his." It bared its teeth, saliva dripping from its maw. "I'll tear you apart. Piece by piece."
The demon lunged again, and this time, I was ready.
I ducked beneath its swipe, the claws grazing my armor as I brought my sword up in a quick, precise arc. The blade bit into its flesh, purple-black blood spraying from the wound. The demon roared in pain, spinning with a speed that belied its size, and swung a massive fist at my head.
I dodged, barely, the air whistling past as the blow missed me by inches. My foot slipped on the blood-slick ground, and I stumbled back, catching myself just in time as the demon charged again, its claws slashing wildly.
It was like fighting a hurricane—raw power and fury unleashed in a storm of violence. Each blow was heavy, each swipe deadly, and I could feel the force of every strike vibrating through my bones. But I couldn't back down. Not now.
Gritting my teeth, I surged forward, meeting its charge head-on. My sword flashed in the darkness, the blade singing as it cut through the air. The demon roared, staggering back as I drove the point of my sword into its side. It howled, lashing out with its claws, but I twisted away, wrenching the blade free with a spray of blood.
"You won't… take me," the demon snarled, its voice choked with pain and fury. It stumbled back, clutching at its side, its breath coming in ragged gasps. "Not again… I won't go back…"
But I wasn't listening. The demon's hulking form shuddered as it stumbled back, its blood—a thick, viscous black fluid—oozing from the deep gash in its side. The creature's breath came in ragged heaves, each exhale a rasping, guttural snarl that reverberated through the clearing. Despite the wound, its eyes still burned with a twisted rage, the red glow brightening with each pulse of its grotesque, overgrown heart.
"You… you're just like *him*," it spat, voice warping between words and growls. The demon's massive chest heaved as it squared itself, muscles rippling and swelling grotesquely. Its wounds began to knit together slowly, the flesh bubbling and sealing shut as if guided by some malevolent force.
But I wasn't about to let it get back on its feet. There was no hesitation as I darted forward, my grip on the hilt of my sword tightening. My mind was a calm, focused void. I could hear the faint rustling of leaves in the breeze, the distant, agonized screams of other recruits battling their own demons—but all of that faded into the background, leaving only the singular focus on the enemy before me.
With a roar, the demon swiped a massive, clawed hand at me, its talons gleaming in the dim light. I sidestepped, my movements fluid and precise, and brought my blade down in a brutal slash. The steel cleaved through the demon's arm just below the elbow, severing it cleanly. There was a moment of stillness—a pause where the world seemed to hold its breath—and then black blood erupted from the stump, spraying in a thick, arterial jet that splattered across my face and armor.
The demon howled in agony, its severed limb twitching on the ground. It lunged forward, swinging its remaining arm in a wide arc, the claws whistling through the air as it tried to tear me apart. I ducked beneath the blow, my sword cutting upward in a savage slice that opened the creature's chest from hip to shoulder. The blade bit deep, slicing through muscle and sinew with a wet, tearing sound. The demon staggered back, shrieking as its innards spilled out in a steaming, glistening heap.
I didn't relent. I couldn't afford to.
"*Second Form: Gale Strike!*" I shouted, the words a fierce, guttural growl that reverberated through my chest.
The air around me seemed to shift, a sharp wind suddenly whipping through the clearing. My movements blurred as I twisted the blade, channeling every ounce of energy into a single, devastating strike. The edge of my sword gleamed with a faint, ethereal glow as I brought it down in a precise arc.
The strike unleashed a burst of wind, a razor-sharp gust that tore through the demon's flesh like a scythe through ripe wheat. The force of the attack sent the creature staggering back, its chest split open in a gruesome, jagged wound that exposed the glistening, pulsing organs beneath. Blood sprayed in a thick mist, the scent of iron and decay filling the air as the demon reeled, its body convulsing violently.
"RAAAGHH!" it screamed, a sound of pure, unfiltered agony. The creature's flesh seemed to bubble and warp, tendrils of corrupted muscle lashing out as if trying to reattach itself. But it was too late. The damage was done.
I could see it in the demon's eyes—the moment the realization hit. The moment it knew it was dying.
With a roar of defiance, it lunged at me one last time, its mouth gaping wide to reveal rows of jagged, yellowed teeth. I met its charge head-on, my blade flashing in the darkness. The wind seemed to howl around us, swirling in a violent tempest as I moved, each strike guided by a lethal precision.
The sword found its mark again and again, cutting deep into the demon's flesh. One slice tore through its ribs, shattering bone with a sickening crunch. Another cleaved through its remaining arm, severing it at the shoulder in a spray of dark blood. The creature shrieked, its body twisting and writhing as I hacked and slashed, carving through muscle and sinew with relentless, unyielding force.
The demon's howls became gurgles, its body collapsing under the onslaught. Its movements slowed, the once-powerful limbs twitching weakly as it tried—and failed—to push itself up from the ground. The clearing was a scene of utter carnage, the ground slick with black blood and the mangled remains of flesh and bone. The demon's once-terrifying presence was reduced to a quivering, blood-soaked mass, barely recognizable as a living being.
I stood over it, breath heaving, blood dripping from the edge of my blade. My eyes locked onto the creature's, and for a moment, I saw something there—something almost like fear.
"Second Form: *Final Tempest*," I whispered, my voice low and deadly.
The wind gathered around me, swirling in a fierce, howling gale that whipped through the clearing. The force of it was immense, the pressure building as the air condensed, focused into a single point. I raised my sword high, the blade gleaming with a brilliant, ethereal light.
And then I brought it down.
The wind exploded outward in a violent burst, a razor-sharp vortex of air that tore through the demon's body with unrelenting force. Flesh and bone were shredded in an instant, the creature's torso splitting open like a ripe fruit. Blood sprayed in a thick, dark mist, the sound of tearing flesh and splintering bone mingling with the demon's final, agonized scream.
For a heartbeat, everything was still. The demon's eyes—those hateful, burning eyes—widened in shock, its mouth opening and closing soundlessly as it struggled to draw breath. Then, with a wet, gurgling gasp, it crumpled to the ground.
The creature's body twitched once, twice… and then it was still.
Silence descended over the clearing, broken only by the faint rustling of leaves and the soft, rhythmic patter of blood dripping onto the ground. I stood there, staring down at the mangled remains of the demon, my breath coming in slow, measured gasps. The wind around me began to die down, the energy dissipating into the night.
It was over.
I wiped the blood from my face, glancing down at the broken, shattered form at my feet. The creature's chest was caved in, its limbs splayed out at unnatural angles. The once-feral eyes were glassy and lifeless, staring blankly up at the sky. The clearing was a scene of utter devastation—broken branches, churned earth, and the scattered remains of what had once been a powerful, terrifying foe.
But it was dead. And I was still standing.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone