Arka pressed his back firmly against the large, slick granite boulder. His breath caught in his throat, manifesting as a thin vapor in the plummeting temperature.

  The air around him shifted drastically. It wasn’t merely the lingering chill of last night’s storm, but a cold that pierced straight to the marrow—the kind of cold that pricked the skin not due to temperature, but because primal instinct screamed that a predator—a wrong kind of predator—was near.

  A fine drizzle still fell, drip... drip... adding volume to the puddles on the dark, muddy ground.

  The first assault wasn’t visual, but olfactory.

  A thick, acrid stench wafted through the wet air, slapping his senses brutally. It was the smell of meat submerged too long in water, the scent of carcasses bloating in a sewer, mixed with the damp earth of a grave and something sweet yet nauseating—the smell of advanced decay.

  Arka reflexively covered his nose and mouth with his hand, fighting the gag reflex rising rapidly in his throat. His eyes watered from the sting of the odor.

  Then, the sound.

  Splash... drag... splash...

  Heavy, uneven footsteps struck the rainwater puddles. Slow. Methodical. Accompanied by the sound of something heavy dragging over mud and stone.

  Arka’s heart hammered wildly against his ribs. He had to see it. He had to confirm what was walking toward his position.

  With a stiff neck movement, he turned his head slightly. His eyes narrowed, peeking from behind the edge of the rough boulder.

  And there, the nightmare walked in the flesh beneath the bleak, gray sky.

  The figure... was a walking clump of wet meat.

  It stood nearly two meters tall, but its posture was hunched and ruined. Its skin—if it could be called skin—was a grayish-green, bloated in some places and peeling in others, revealing deep red muscle tissue beneath that looked slick with slime. Thick, dark fluid dripped from its body with every step, mixing with the rainwater on the ground.

  The rotting body was swathed in tattered black rags that looked ancient, like shrouds buried for hundreds of years. But the cloth was not still. Its black fibers moved subtly as if alive, winding and binding the putrid flesh to keep it from falling apart. From the gaps in the cloth and gaping wounds, pitch-black vapor—void residue—constantly emanated into the air, creating an unnatural fog swirling around its limping legs.

  Arka held his breath as his gaze traveled up to its "face."

  There were no eyes. The sockets were completely empty. Only two dark skull cavities stared blankly ahead. The bone around the sockets was cracked and browned.

  However, the most horrifying part was what lay beneath its half-missing nose.

  Its lower jaw was gone entirely. Severed.

  No chin, no lower teeth. Only a gaping, wet red hole in the upper neck, like an axe wound that never healed. The remnants of a black tongue muscle lolled out of the hole, pulsing slowly and dripping thick saliva.

  The creature walked with a gait painful to watch. It limped severely, dragging a right leg that appeared twisted at an unnatural angle.

  And from its left shoulder, an additional horror protruded.

  Three extra "arms" grew there. Not whole arms, but sharp, dry bone structures wrapped in sparse, tough blackened flesh. They jutted stiffly and sharply into the air like charred, dead tree branches. The three twig-hands twitched uncontrollably, their bony fingers grasping at empty air every time the creature stepped.

  Splash... drag...

  The creature drew closer. The stench grew more suffocating. Arka pulled his head back quickly behind the rock, his breath hunting as quietly as possible, his back pressed tight against the cold granite.

  Thump... thump... thump...

  The rhythm of Arka’s heart pounded against his own eardrums, louder than the thunder in the sky.

  Behind the granite boulder, the large shadow stopped moving.

  Arka knew the moment had arrived. There was no use hiding anymore. His instinct screamed: Kill or be killed.

  Slowly, Arka turned his head to the side, emerging from the rock’s protection.

  At the same moment, the Anukh-Ramj turned as well.

  Their faces were less than half a meter apart.

  The moment felt slowed down, frozen in a frame of disgusting horror.

  The creature’s head tilted to the side with unnatural, jerky movements, as if its neck lacked supporting bone.

  Empty met occupied.

  Though its eye sockets were merely dark skull holes, Arka could see something living inside. Remnants of rotted eye muscle tissue at the base of the skull pulsed, twitching wetly.

  As if its muscle memory still recalled how to see. As if its predator reflexes locked automatically upon detecting human body heat.

  It locked onto Arka. Finding warm, fresh life, contrasting with its cold, dead body.

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  HISSSSSSS....

  A long hiss escaped the gaping hole in its neck. It was the sound of air forced past destroyed, slimy vocal cords.

  Black void mist spewed heavily from its mouth, carrying the deadly scent of decay right into Arka’s face.

  It was the face of absolute death. Anyone seeing it would surely freeze in terror.

  But Arka Sagara was not prey.

  In the face of that nightmare visage, the corner of Arka’s lip lifted.

  He smiled.

  Not a sweet smile. He pulled his lips back wide, baring his tight rows of teeth. He showed his fangs, radiating a savage aura no less terrifying.

  Gotcha, he thought.

  Arka did not retreat. Instead, he launched his body forward, borrowing momentum from his feet planted in the mud.

  His right fist was ready, fully charged with adrenaline and raw power.

  A punch was unleashed. No beautiful technique. Just brute force.

  THWACKKKKK....!!!

  The sound of the impact was wet and heavy. Like smashing a rotten watermelon with a sledgehammer.

  Arka’s knuckles sank momentarily into the creature’s soft cheek, feeling the cheekbone shatter beneath the pressure of his fist, before the massive repulsive force released him.

  The effect was instant.

  The two-meter-tall body was lifted off the ground.

  The creature was flung backward as if hit by a truck. Its rotting body flew, spinning in the air, then slammed hard onto a pile of sharp river rocks behind it.

  CRASH! SCRRRAAPE!

  Its body skidded over three meters of sharp gravel.

  Its fragile, rotting flesh could not withstand the friction. Its back and shoulders were destroyed, torn instantly.

  Chunks of black meat, slime, and bone shards scattered everywhere, splattering onto the river stones, staining the clear rainwater pitch black.

  Arka stood tall in his position, breath hunting, his fist still raised in the air, emitting thin steam.

  He stared at the mound of flesh he had just destroyed with wild eyes.

  "Your face is hard too," Arka hissed, shaking his hand now covered in black slime.

  "GRRRRROHHHHHH..."

  The creature tried to roar. A sound of primal rage escaped its ruined throat remains.

  But the scream didn't last long. Arka gave it no stage for oration.

  Both of Arka’s hands snatched a basketball-sized river stone lying near his feet. His back muscles tensed as he lifted the weight high above his head, then slammed it down with full gravitational force.

  SQUELCH... CRUNCH!

  The impact ended its scream.

  The resulting sound was truly disgusting. An absurd symphony of death.

  There was the dull sound of rotting meat exploding wetly, mixed with the crisp sound of the skull shattering completely into small shards. Thick black fluid sprayed in all directions, coating the large rock that now replaced the creature’s head.

  Arka did not retreat. He stepped forward.

  THUD.

  He stomped his loafer right onto the center of the creature’s chest, pinning the rotting body to the muddy ground.

  The twig-hands on the corpse’s shoulder still moved wildly. The three extra limbs clawed at the air, stiff, jerky, trying to reach Arka’s leg.

  "Annoying," Arka hissed.

  He bent down slightly. His already dirty hand grabbed one of the twig-hands.

  SNAP.

  Arka broke and tore it forcibly from its flesh socket. The sound of dry bone snapping was loud.

  He threw it in a random direction.

  He grabbed the second. SNAP. Yank. Throw.

  He grabbed the third. SNAP. Yank.

  He threw the last twig-arm to the side; it landed in a puddle.

  Silence...

  The forest returned to quiet. No more screams. No more hissing.

  There was only the body of the Anukh-Ramj, now looking pathetic, crushed beneath the sole of Arka’s shoe.

  But the horror was not over.

  Arka felt a vibration beneath his foot.

  Even though its head was flattened under a rock, even though its hands had been harvested clean, the body still refused to die.

  The creature’s legs still twitched, kicking gravel. Its body convulsed, chest muscles contracting hysterically, struggling hard to rise from Arka’s stomp. Its void energy was still stubborn.

  Arka looked down, seeing the futile persistence.

  Slowly, a crooked smile carved itself onto his black-stained face again.

  "Head crushed by a rock, body stomped, hands toothless..."

  Arka shook his head in amazement.

  "Still want to live?"

  Arka’s hand plunged in.

  His fingers pierced the soft abdominal skin like stabbing wet paper pulp.

  The sensation greeting him was not the warmth of blood, but a deadly cold. The rotting flesh felt slick, slimy, and froze the skin of his hand. Arka’s fingers groped inside the destroyed abdominal cavity, searching for a solid hold.

  Got it.

  He gripped the creature’s spinal column firmly.

  "Hup!"

  Arka planted his right foot harder onto the creature’s chest as a fulcrum. His biceps tensed to the max, veins in his neck bulging.

  With one savage, barbaric pull...

  RRRRIIIPPPPPP!!!

  The sound of wet tearing broke the night.

  Arka pulled his body upward. The creature’s spine was forcibly uprooted from its body.

  The fragile skin and back muscle tissue could not withstand the pulling force. The creature’s ribs cracked, snapped, and scattered beneath Arka’s stomp, left on the ground along with clumps of black internal organs.

  In Arka’s hand, now only remained a long strand of spine still connected to the pelvis and a pair of legs dangling pathetically.

  "Hehehe..."

  Arka chuckled, breath hunting but eyes shining madly. He lifted the disgusting "trophy" level with his face.

  "Just a damn spine and legs," he mocked the remains of the creature. "What can you do, huh? Kick me? Run?"

  The creature’s legs still twitched weakly, a nerve reflex slow to die.

  Seeing that, Arka snorted.

  "Still moving?"

  Without a second thought, his left hand grabbed the creature’s thigh.

  SNAP!

  He tore it off.

  Separating the femur from the pelvis with raw strength. The sound of snapping ligaments sounded like thick rubber pulled to its limit.

  Arka held the severed leg, then casually—as if breaking a firewood twig—bent the knee in the wrong direction.

  CRACK. CRACK.

  He snapped the bones into several pieces.

  In this second, Arka had forgotten everything.

  He forgot the stench that should have made a normal person faint. He forgot the rain freezing his body. He forgot the disgust.

  There was only instinct.

  Primal instinct to destroy the enemy down to its smallest atom. Instinct of absolute dominance.

  Arka threw the bone pieces into the mud. He stood tall in the middle of the cruel slaughter, chest heaving, inhaling the air of death.

  He wiped his face full of black fluid splatters, then grinned wide.

  His wild eyes stared at the darkness of the surrounding forest, searching, hunting. That grin was not a sign of satisfaction.

  It was a sign of hunger.

  "Not enough..." he hissed softly. "Just one?"

  Arka dropped himself to sit on the large granite boulder—the same rock that had just served as the execution block.

  The rain fell more insanely. The sky seemed torn, spilling thick, cold floodwater.

  The water washed over his body without mercy, seeping into the pores of his destroyed shirt, washing his skin hot with adrenaline. His soaking wet black hair fell limp forward, covering part of his face, hiding his eyes behind a curtain of dripping bangs.

  Arka stayed silent.

  He raised both hands into the air, letting the rain do its job.

  Clear water from the sky mixed with the black void slime on his skin. The thick liquid shed slowly, dripping to the ground, restoring the pale color of his hand skin. The rotten smell slowly washed away, replaced by the sharp, cold scent of petrichor.

  His eyes pierced through the gaps in his wet hair, staring down.

  There, amidst the pooling mud, the remains of the Anukh-Ramj lay silent.

  Truly silent.

  No more twitching. No more reflex movements. The spinal pieces, flesh shards, and black fluid were now merely organic trash being washed by nature.

  Arka glared at the pile of dead meat.

  His lips slowly pulled upward again, forming a wide, terrifying smile behind his messy hair. His teeth ground softly, his wolfish grin not yet faded.

  "Hey, Trash..." he whispered, his voice raspy, swallowed by the rain.

  He leaned his body slightly toward the crushed head pieces.

  "How does it feel?"

  Arka chuckled, cold and piercing.

  "How does it feel to die for the second time, huh?"