Capítulo 12: The Beast
That same night, John had to sneak back in the university campus. He wanted nothing to do with that place, but he couldn't leave those people to die, not when there are so many women to be stolen and powers to gain.
The misunderstanding between Marco and Maria had been resolved, yet the seed of doubt had firmly taken root in Marco's mind. His jealousy had been stoked, making the next phase of John's manipulative ploy all the more promising.
Borrowing Maria's car, John drove through the moonlit streets. The ruins around him, as devastated as they had appeared in daylight, took on an eerie quality under the veil of night. These streets, once teeming with life and dreams, were now nothing more than the last remnants of the apocalypse.
The rhythmic hum of the car's engine provided an anaesthetic backdrop to John's turbulent thoughts. As he drove through the moonlit streets, his mind took a sharp detour back to the haunting memories of his childhood.
In those early days, his life had been a relentless hell, his parents locked in ceaseless arguments. Neglected and starving, John often spent days with an empty stomach, always in that familiar hospital just a stone's throw away, a witness to his suffering.
Back then, he had been a frail child, lacking energy, but he always managed to wear a smile. Those memories now played against the backdrop of ruined buildings, once thriving, now reduced to crumbling remnants. How swiftly had it all fallen apart?
Hours.
The same question always haunted him. Why did he use to smile so much? He didn't know. His cheerful attitude decayed with time; blow after blow, betrayal after betrayal, worn-out by a far too cruel reality. He couldn't help but see himself mirrored in this apocalyptic world, both once complex mechanisms, now in ruins.
But then why? Despite all the death and decay around him, why did he feel alive? The answer would have to wait, danger was ahead.
John slammed the brakes as a massive armoured monster emerged to block the road, the tires screeching to a halt just in time.
The hulking beast before him looked crafted in the depths of hell itself. Black metal plates covered its body in jagged spikes and edges, each dent telling a story of vicious battle. Within the helm, only darkness was visible - no face, only void.
John stared silently before throwing the car into reverse. But too late - a brutal spiked chain lashed out, looping around his rear bumper. He was trapped.
Keeping calm, John stepped out and circled around, moving out of the beast's line of sight. He had bested fierce creatures before, but this metallic behemoth was something else entirely.
With only his knife, brute force wasn't an option. He would have to outmanoeuvre it - let it lumber close, then exploit any openings with perfect timing.
John tightened his grip, waiting for his moment as the creature strained against the chained car. This would be no easy fight. He may not emerge unscathed. But he would emerge victorious. Failure was not an option.
As the armoured titan closed in, John silently prepared to battle for his life alone. The ruins around him seemed to hold their breath, watching the confrontation unfold. John welcomed the challenge. He would survive, as he always had - by any means necessary.
The beast charged, massive spiked fists pounding the cracked pavement. John rolled aside just in time, shards of asphalt spraying. It snarled and whipped its chain, but John ducked low, feeling it slice the air above his head.
Seeing his chance, he darted in, leaping over a trashed convertible and slammed his knife down on an arm joint. Sparks rained, but the blade barely dented the thick armour. A backhand blow flung John away, pain exploding through his side.
Ignoring the throbbing, John regained his feet and circled warily. The few attacks that landed only glanced off hardened metal. But the joints...he had to target the joints.
As it lunged again, John waited until the last second before sliding between its legs, slashing at a knee joint. The knife found purchase, cutting rotten flesh and drawing eldritch blood. The beast buckled with an enraged roar.
It spun, lashing out in frenzy. John tried to evade. He leaped backwards. Crashed through a display window and landed inside a clothing store. A spike raked his shoulder, tearing cloth and flesh. He hissed in pain but kept moving. Another opening would come.
The beast thrashed the store, chains and fists hammering relentlessly. John staggered back, clutching his side, his silhouette blending amongst the store's mannequins. Gritting his teeth, he willed himself to continue.
As the beast darted its gaze frantically, the world stilled and John's Quiet Steps Skill activated, turning into a ghostly whisper against the shop's slick, hard floor. As the beast's rage subsided, it stood deathly still, as if sensing everything around it. John's hairs stood on ends. He thought the beast was far more intelligent than he gave it credit for.
John held his breath, willing even his heartbeat silent as the beast's head swung back and forth. It knew he was here, hidden by Quiet Steps somewhere amidst the ravaged store. John's mind raced, trying to predict its next move while seeking his own opening.
The hulking creature turned toward the smashed window. For a moment John thought it might flee. But then it lowered its shoulder, braced its legs, and charged.
The beast crashed through the brick wall in an explosion of dust and debris, barreling out into the darkened streets once more. It clearly aimed to deprive John of any environment he could use.
John followed swiftly, ignoring the screaming pain of his injuries. The beast intended to battle him in the open. He would oblige, and end this.
As he emerged, the creature spun, its chain whipping furiously, forcing John back. It pressed its attack, berserker fury overriding any cunning. John deflected and avoided the strikes, seeking that final opportunity.
His opening came as it overextended a lumbering punch. John slipped inside its reach, blade finding the wrist joint. Armor and flesh split. The beast staggered back with a bellow.
It was wounded but not defeated. Raising its arms, the helm opened with a hiss of steam. Two baleful red eyes glared down at John.
PENSAMENTOS DOS CRIADORES 
Anaesthetic_Dawn
Anaesthetic_Dawn A little later than usual, sorry for the delay! Well, that's all, my friends, see ya tomorrow! Ha, as if! Add the book to your library and leave a review if you like the novel.
Capítulo 13: A Truly Vile Woman
A chill slithered down John's spine as he gazed into the pair of menacing red eyes. The face revealed defied comprehension - no earthly features, only otherworldly horror.
The beast's face was a labyrinth of dread, a mad architect's nightmare made flesh. Jagged metal plates and pallid, fatty flesh melded in revolting union. It was part construct, part corpse - an unnatural synthesis that sent ripples through its form with each vile movement.
Oozing ichor dripped from its mouth, bearing a stench that poisoned the air. Its gaping void of a mouth seemed a bottomless abyss ready to consume any who drew near. All traces of natural life were absent in that terrible face. Only hunger remained - ancient, endless and unspeakable in its malevolence.
John steadied his nerves before the creature of evil. Whatever infernal dimension this abomination had emerged from, he knew normal blades and courage alone couldn't hope to stop it.
Yet he clutched his knife tightly, refusing to waver. Because to show fear was to surrender. And he had not survived this long by ever giving in to dread.
So John met that menacing gaze unflinching. If this was to be his end, he would face it head-on, even if it meant going to hell and back.
The beast's grotesque mouth yawned wide, releasing an unearthly shriek that pierced John's ears and soul. He gritted his teeth against the awful uproar.
Black lightning crackled around its clawed fists as the creature attacked with renewed frenzy. Each thunderous blow cratered the pavement where John dodged away.
With a guttural shout, John activated his Shockwave skill, the concussive blast knocking the beast back a step. Pressing his slim advantage, John rushed forward, boots cracking on fractured cement.
The beast's fist trashed around, spiked gauntlets missing John by a hair. He slid beneath the follow-up swing and drove his blade into its exposed flank. Ichor spurted, hissing where it scorched the ground.
Howling, it grabbed at the embedded knife, wrenching it free in a spurt of dark blood. John barely rolled clear of the enraged stomp that cracked the earth.
They traded blows, John using short Shockwave bursts to deflect attacks and manoeuvre past its guard. But he could not keep this up forever. Already his injuries slowed him.
John narrowly twisted away from another crushing blow, the beast's fists gouging craters in the street. He was tiring, injuries and exertion taking their toll. The demon seemed endless, overwhelming in its frenzy.
John's thoughts raced, seeking anything to turn the tide. Then he saw it - as the creature reared back, the jagged shards of its chest armour shifted, exposing a glimpse of the festering flesh beneath.
There, between plates - the only vulnerable point left. John would get one chance.
With preternatural focus, he charged forward. The world slowed as he summoned every ounce of speed and power. The demon's claws came down, but John was already inside its reach, knife poised to strike.
He leaped upwards, muscles screaming, and plunged the blade with all his might into that tiny exposed gap. It pierced rot and metal and kept going.
A haunting shriek rang out as smoking darkness erupted from the puncture. John hung on with frenzied tenacity until the convulsing mass of metal and flesh finally collapsed.
But the darkness congregated into a humanoid figure. The figure stood rigid and observed John, "Well done, John," it said.
John's eyes widened. How was it that stranger things kept happening? How should he take this? He wondered if he should reply, but the figure dissipated as soon as it formed, leaving behind a confused John.
[Dark Knight Copy Killed]
[3.5 Strength Obtained]
[0.5 Energy Obtained]
John glanced at the notification, but he could not focus on it. Panting raggedly, he stepped back from the ruined husk. By will and skill alone, he had survived the impossible. But there was no time for rest. More horrors awaited in the rising sun.
John made his way back to the car with tired steps, his body battered and his mind jumbled. He hadn't expected his way back to be free of trouble, but this was way more than he signed up for.
As he arrived near the university, he parked the car near an inconspicuous spot and sneaked back inside. Thanks to the cover of night and his Quiet Steps, he reached his lean-to without any troubles.
There, he crumbled onto his humble pallet, a sentinel worn down by the relentless footsteps of the hours. He surrendered to the allure of slumber, where consciousness dissolves and dreams take flight. In the tender arms of the night, he found solace, a brief lull from the hazard of life, and ducked deep into the sea of intoxication.
Morning struck like a punch to the face. John squinted, his thoughts jumbled. As his vision adjusted, a pair of eyes met his gaze - shining like polished citrine.
John jolted upright, muscles tensing for combat. But the melodic laugh that followed eased his guard.
"Rough night?" Stephanie asked, head tilted playfully. She sat close beside him, comfortable and at home.
John relaxed, wincing at his yet to heal wounds. He glanced at Stephanie's playful demeanour, suspicion glinting in his eyes. Had she made up her mind? She seemed at ease, a contrast to the previous day. At least she wasn't avoiding him like the plague anymore.
Stephanie's hand gently took his, a subtle offer of support. John found himself not pulling away.
"What time is it?" He asked, his body stiff.
"It's late, but John..." she began, her tone turning serious. "Where were you last yesterday?"
"Long story, I'll tell you later," John brushed it off.
His gaze darted around the shelter, looking for any sign of Theodore or the so-called soldiers, that's when his gaze landed on a pair of frigid eyes, the pupils devoid of warmth or empathy.
The eyes were red, but they turned darker near the edges. Looking at those eyes, it was like peering into the abyss and catching a glimpse of hellfire.
The eyes, unfriendly as they were, could be called beautiful as much as it pained him to admit. As John's gaze turned away from the eyes, he saw her, his father's girlfriend, Lorena.
A truly vile woman.
Lorena's long black hair whipped around and fluttered in the air as she glanced at John. Her perpetual scowl turned uglier when she recognised John, if that was even possible.
John never understood this woman's hatred and he could never see her as more than a beast, a monster, a child's nightmare, but he was not the same John anymore. He was now a Rogue and his mission? To steal women from other men, and what better target than the source of most of his pain?
PENSAMENTOS DOS CRIADORES
Anaesthetic_Dawn
Anaesthetic_Dawn
First smut scene coming next, my friends. At least the start of it, tomorrow chapter's will contain the full scene. As always, don't forget to add the book to your library!
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