Thunder cracked across the night sky, jagged lightning illuminating the castle’s shadowy halls in fleeting, spectral flashes. The heavy rain pounded relentlessly against the ancient stone walls, a rhythmic hammering like some unseen predator testing its defenses. The wind howled through narrow windows, carrying ghostly wails that seeped into the dim corridors where flickering torches struggled to fend off the oppressive darkness.

  The castle felt alive, its very walls exhaling cold drafts that whispered down the halls. Shadows writhed in the uneven light, clawing at the damp stone. The air was thick and sour with the mingling scents of rain-soaked stone and wet metal, and every groan of the wooden beams overhead felt like a foreboding prelude to something unseen.

  Two knights trudged through the corridor, their spears gripped loosely in weary hands. Pale and hollow-eyed, their faces bore the weight of too many sleepless hours.

  “Mmmmmaaaaaannnnn, this sucks,” groaned one, his voice breaking the silence like a dull blade. He yawned loudly, his gauntleted hand halfheartedly covering his mouth.

  “Shut it!” hissed his companion, his tone sharp but hushed, as if the storm itself might carry their words to unwelcome ears. He cast a wary glance at the shadows, tightening his grip on his spear. “You want Yokubo to hear you?”

  The first knight shrugged, his armor clinking faintly. “What’s he gonna do? He’s probably snoring away with those slave girls while we’re stuck guarding this miserable place. Sixteen hours of this crap. For what? Some stupid demon story?”

  “Keep your voice down!” snapped the second knight, though his tired eyes mirrored the same frustration. “Complaining won’t help when Yokubo drags you out by your collar. Be glad we’re not out there in that storm. He’s killed men for less.”

  The first knight grumbled but fell silent. Their boots echoed on the wet stone, each step hollow and rhythmic in the vast emptiness. The torchlight flickered weakly against the walls, casting long shadows that writhed and twisted like living things.

  Outside, the storm grew fiercer. Rain streaked down the windows in glistening trails, rattling the panes as though the castle itself wept beneath the unrelenting assault.

  After several minutes of silence, the first knight finally spoke, his voice quieter now. “Hey, what do you think about this Axel guy? The one they say is headed this way?”

  “Axel?” the other knight snorted, not bothering to mask his skepticism. “What about him?”

  “I heard stories,” the first knight whispered, leaning closer as though afraid the shadows might overhear. “They say he took down a whole squadron of knights by himself. Burned a building to the ground. By himself.”

  The second knight rolled his eyes, though his steps faltered slightly. “Oh, please. Anyone can toss a torch at a wooden building. Big deal. And a squadron? What were they? Farmers playing soldier? We’ve got five hundred men here. Proper knights. That demon won’t even make it past the gates.”

  Despite his bravado, the words lingered uneasily in the air, the silence behind them feeling heavier. Even the storm seemed to pause, its ceaseless pounding quieting momentarily, as if the castle were holding its breath.

  “Yeah… I guess,” the first knight muttered, though his gaze darted toward the encroaching shadows.

  The flickering torchlight seemed weaker now, its glow swallowed by the corridor’s advancing darkness. The first knight hesitated, then leaned closer, his voice dropping further. “Hey… did you hear about Silka Town?”

  The second knight frowned. “What about it?”

  The first knight glanced over his shoulder, checking the empty hall before speaking. “They say it was hit by the Black Death.”

  The second knight stopped abruptly, turning sharply to face him. “What? That hasn’t been seen in over a century.”

  “Shh!” the first knight hissed, waving a hand urgently. “I know, but… that’s what they’re saying. A friend of mine went there for… you know, collection duty. Said when they got there, the place was empty.”

  “Empty?” the second knight repeated, his voice thick with doubt.

  “Not just empty,” the first knight continued, his voice trembling as he spoke. “Deserted. Like a ghost town. The streets were overgrown, vines covering the buildings, bugs crawling everywhere. Crops left untouched. Doors hanging open, like everyone just… vanished.”

  “Bandits?” the second knight offered weakly, though his tone carried little conviction.

  The first knight shook his head grimly. “No. My friend said there was no sign of a struggle. No blood. Nothing missing. Everything was perfectly still. Like time itself had stopped.”

  The second knight hesitated, his pulse quickening. “What happened?”

  The first knight swallowed hard, his eyes flickering nervously to the shadows. “They checked one of the houses.”

  “And?” the second knight pressed, despite the growing knot in his stomach.

  “They found them.” The first knight’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Men, women, children. All piled on the floor. Their skin shriveled to the bone, pale as death. Eyes gone—just empty sockets. No wounds. No blood. It was like… like something sucked the life right out of them.”

  The second knight recoiled, his stomach twisting. “You’re joking.”

  “I wish I was,” the first knight muttered. “But my friend said the worst part was their faces. Every single one of them… frozen in terror.”

  For a moment, neither spoke. The storm outside seemed distant now, its howling wind muffled, as though the castle had been swallowed by another world entirely.

  The second knight broke the silence, his voice unsteady. “What… what could do that?”

  The first knight didn’t answer. His wide, frightened eyes remained fixed on the darkness ahead, where the torchlight no longer reached.

  "HHAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!"

  A scream tore through the stillness like a jagged blade, sharp and raw. It echoed down the dark corridor, warping as it traveled, as though the castle itself was amplifying its agony. The two knights froze mid-step, their breaths catching in their throats. Wide-eyed, they turned toward the oppressive darkness ahead, the flickering torchlight behind them dimming as shadows pressed closer.

  “W-what the fuck was that?” one knight stammered, his voice barely above a whisper, trembling as if the very words could invite whatever had made the sound.

  “I… I think it was… lightning?” the other knight offered weakly, though the words fell flat. The storm outside, fierce as it was, couldn’t explain the raw, visceral terror in that scream.

  Silence returned, heavier than before, as though the castle itself was holding its breath. The knights stood rooted in place, straining to hear even the faintest sound. Their hearts thundered in their chests, the beats almost drowning out the muffled patter of rain against the windows. The air was colder now, heavier, clinging to their skin like an unwelcome touch.

  The first knight swallowed hard, gripping his spear until his knuckles whitened. He adjusted the torch in his hand, its weak flame flickering in the stifling darkness. “It… it’s nothing. Just the wind,” he murmured, though his voice betrayed the fear crawling up his spine.

  “Yeah,” the other knight replied, though his shaky tone made it clear he didn’t believe it. “The wind.”

  Step by cautious step, they moved forward. Their torchlight cast trembling pools of light that barely pushed back the encroaching shadows. Each footfall echoed faintly before being swallowed by the oppressive quiet. Their breathing quickened, shallow and uneven, as though the very air around them resisted being drawn in.

  The sound of hurried footsteps broke the suffocating silence as more knights arrived, their armor clinking softly. They formed a defensive line, shields raised and swords unsheathed, their collective fear palpable in the dim glow of the torches. The two original guards lifted their lights higher, pushing feebly against the thickening darkness. But the deeper shadows refused to yield, instead seeming to grow heavier, more alive.

  Another scream tore through the air.

  This one was closer—louder. It carried a raw, primal agony that made their blood run cold. The sound reverberated endlessly, bouncing off the stone walls until it felt as though the entire corridor was alive with the echoes of despair. Some knights staggered back, their grips faltering, sweat beading on their brows as the weight of fear pressed down on them.

  “That… wasn’t the storm,” one knight muttered shakily, his words barely audible over the thundering of his own heartbeat.

  Another scream followed, sharper and more horrific. This time it was accompanied by a grotesque wet sound—flesh being torn. It started as a low, sickening noise, then grew louder, more visceral, as though something was gnashing and clawing with savage hunger. The knights froze, their boots seemingly rooted to the bloodstained floor.

  The vibrations of violence carried through the stone beneath their feet. They could feel the sharp, tearing rip of muscle, the snap of bone, and the squelch of something feeding. The air grew thick with the iron tang of blood, and the faint, sour stench of decay crept into their nostrils.

  One of the knights gagged, his weapon trembling in his hand. “What… what’s out there?” he whispered, his words nearly drowned by the relentless pounding in his ears.

  No one dared answer. All eyes remained fixed on the shadows ahead, where the torchlight failed to reach.

  Blood began to pool into view, dark and viscous, creeping from the shadows like a living thing. It curled around the knights’ boots, its sharp metallic scent cloying in the frigid air. One knight gagged, struggling to hold it back, his trembling hands gripping his weapon as though it were the only thing anchoring him to reality.

  “W-what’s happening out there?” he muttered, his voice cracking as his wide, pleading eyes darted to the others. None of them answered.

  The grotesque sounds continued—wet, tearing, crunching. Something was ripping flesh from bone with savage, deliberate force. Then came a scream—long, agonized—before it faded into gurgling, as if the victim were being dragged underwater. It ended abruptly, leaving behind a silence that was worse. It pressed against them like a physical weight, unnatural and oppressive, making their ears ache and their skin crawl.

  The torches flickered violently, their flames dimming as if suffocated by an unseen force. Shadows twisted and writhed along the walls, moving unnaturally, like creatures with a mind of their own. The knights instinctively huddled together, forming a defensive line. Their breaths came shallow and rapid, their shields locked, their weapons trembling in their hands.

  And then it came—a laugh.

  Low and guttural, it drifted from the blackness like a predator’s whisper. It was faint at first, barely audible, but it grew steadily louder, warping and echoing as if the darkness itself were mocking them. The sound carried a sinister, gleeful malice, setting every nerve on edge. Their hearts raced as the torches flickered weakly, their light struggling to push back the encroaching void.

  The laughter sharpened, its pitch rising into a chaotic cacophony that filled the corridor with suffocating dread. The air grew colder, biting at their skin, and the torches dimmed further as though the darkness were devouring the flames. The knights could feel it now—something moving in the shadows, circling them, unseen but impossibly close.

  “Form up!” one knight barked, his voice cracking under the weight of terror. “May God guide us through the darkness!”

  They obeyed, locking shields and raising their weapons, but their formation offered no comfort. The light barely illuminated their surroundings, casting long, trembling shadows that twisted and stretched unnaturally. The laughter swirled around them, now an all-encompassing howl, vibrating through the very stones of the castle.

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  And then, with a sickening scream, one of their own vanished into the void.

  Panic gripped the remaining knights as they scrambled to search the blood-soaked corridor. Torches trembled in their hands, casting their shadows into grotesque shapes that seemed to mock their efforts. The silence bore down again, broken only by shallow breaths and the squelch of boots in the crimson pool beneath their feet.

  “Where is he?!” one knight hissed, his voice fraying at the edges.

  “I don’t know…” another whispered, his knuckles white around the hilt of his sword. “I… I don’t think he’s gone.”

  Another tense moment passed, the oppressive quiet broken by a faint, rhythmic drip. The knights froze, their ears straining as the sound repeated, steady and deliberate. Their heads turned downward, their eyes locking on the rippling pool of blood. The ripples expanded outward like a signal, pulling all attention to the center of the room.

  A single drop of blood fell from above, splashing into the puddle with a clarity that felt deafening.

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  Slowly, as if compelled by an unseen force, they lifted their heads. The torchlight wavered, its flickering flames trembling as the knights angled them toward the ceiling. What they saw turned their blood to ice.

  A figure clung to the stone above, grotesque and spider-like. Its emaciated frame was wrapped in a shifting, shadowy cloak, the edges writhing like smoke. Long, clawed fingers sank into the stone as though gravity itself dared not challenge it. Blood dripped steadily from the mangled remains of a knight suspended in its grip, his twisted armor barely holding his shattered body together. The creature’s head was buried in the knight’s chest, tearing through flesh and bone with horrifying precision.

  It moved slightly, just enough for the torchlight to catch its face. Eyes glowing like molten gold burned beneath its hood, brimming with an unholy hunger. Blood smeared its mouth and chin, dripping onto the crumpled, twitching form of its prey. The knight in its grasp let out a weak, gurgling moan, his broken body hanging limply like a rag doll.

  “H…help… me…” the knight gasped, his voice wet with blood, each breath rattling painfully in his chest. A single tear traced a path down his battered cheek before falling silently into the growing pool below.

  The creature paused, tilting its head in an eerie gesture of mock curiosity, savoring the knight’s final plea. Then, with a grotesque squelch, its claws sank deeper into his torso, tearing through muscle and bone. A sharp, wet crack echoed down the corridor as it ripped the body clean in half. The lifeless halves fell to the floor with a sickening thud, splattering blood across the stone.

  The knights below staggered back, their faces ashen and their breaths frozen in their throats. The silence was broken by a single, shrill scream.

  “HAAAAHHHHHH!!!! IT’S HERE!!! THE REAPER IS HERE!!!”

  The cry jolted the others into frantic action. Weapons were raised, voices trembling with shouted commands and desperate prayers. Arrows were loosed, and spears hurled at the monstrous figure above.

  The creature’s chilling laugh echoed through the air, low and guttural, before it dropped from the ceiling with a resounding crash. Blood sprayed outward as it landed, rising to its full height, its malevolent gaze locking onto the knights.

  “Hahahahahahahahahahaha!!!”

  Before they could react, Axel vanished in a blur. In an instant, he appeared behind one of the knights, his clawed hand clamping down on the man’s helmet. The knight let out a strangled gasp before Axel twisted sharply, forcing the knight’s face toward his own.

  “Look at me,” Axel hissed, his voice guttural and dripping with sadistic glee.

  With a sickening crack, he wrenched the knight’s head fully around, the body crumpling lifelessly to the floor. Gripping the corpse by its leg, Axel slammed it into the ground with inhuman force. The armor crumpled like tin, and the torso bent unnaturally before tearing free from the lower half of the body. Dropping the mangled remains, Axel pounded the torso with his claws, shredding flesh and shattering ribs until the knight’s stomach was an unrecognizable cavity of pulped organs.

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  The disembodied system echoed ominously, its calm tone at odds with the carnage.

  The remaining knights rallied with desperate cries, charging as a group. But the darkness came alive. Massive shadowy hands erupted from the void, twisting and writhing as they tore into the ranks.

  One knight was seized mid-charge, his armor crushed with a sickening crunch. He let out a wet scream, blood gushing from his mouth as his ribs pierced his lungs. The shadowy hand squeezed tighter until his body burst like an overripe fruit. Another knight was dragged upward, slamming into the ceiling with bone-shattering force before being flung against the wall. He left a streak of crimson as he slid to the floor, lifeless.

  Screams filled the corridor as knights were pulled into the shadows. Their cries devolved into guttural pleas, then fell silent, replaced by the grotesque sounds of tearing flesh and crunching bone. The remaining knights could do nothing but watch, their weapons trembling as their comrades were devoured one by one.

  Axel stood amidst the chaos, drenched in blood, his claws dripping as he surveyed the carnage. His golden eyes burned brighter with each kill, and his lips curled into a wide, sadistic grin, splitting his blood-smeared face.

  “Who’s next~?” he whispered, his voice carrying over the dying screams like a death knell.

  The knights froze, their courage shattered. Their weapons faltered as Axel took a slow, deliberate step forward.

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  “Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!”

  Axel’s laughter roared through the corridor, feral and unhinged, each burst a sharp edge of madness. He moved like a shadow, a dark blur against the blood-slicked walls. Before the next knight could react, Axel’s fist smashed into his chest with bone-crushing force, sending him hurtling into the wall. The stone cracked under the impact, and the knight slumped to the ground, leaving a jagged smear of crimson in his wake.

  Axel paused, tilting his head as if appraising his prey. His attention snapped to a torch mounted on the wall. With one swift motion, he ripped it free, the flame flaring brightly. Without hesitation, he rammed the burning torch into the knight’s helmet.

  The knight screamed, raw and agonized, as the flame hissed against his flesh. The acrid stench of burning blood and skin filled the air. His hands flailed uselessly before falling limp, the blood seeping from the helmet in rhythmic drips. Axel chuckled darkly and hurled the corpse skyward.

  From the shadowed ceiling, massive clawed hands erupted—spectral monstrosities of pure darkness. They latched onto the body mid-air, ripping it apart with a frenzied hunger. Shredded flesh, shattered armor, and splintered bone rained down, vanishing into the void.

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  “HAAAAAARRRRRAAGHHHH!”

  A knight charged forward, his sword raised high, gleaming in the flickering light. With all his strength, he brought the blade down, cleaving deep into Axel’s arm. For a moment, hope flickered in the knight’s eyes.

  Axel stopped, glancing at the wound with mild curiosity. The faintest shadow of a smile tugged at his lips—cold and restrained, far more chilling than any maniacal grin. Slowly, he wrapped his fingers around the blade still embedded in his flesh. In one fluid motion, he yanked it free and drove it into the knight’s chest.

  The knight staggered, blood spurting from his mouth. Axel twisted the blade slowly, the grinding of steel against bone audible even over the man’s strangled gasps. With deliberate force, Axel pulled the sword free and plunged it into the knight’s stomach. Again and again, the blade struck, each blow more savage than the last. Blood splattered across Axel’s face, and he dragged his tongue across his lips, savoring the metallic tang.

  With a final, brutal strike, Axel drove the blade down through the knight’s chest, pinning him to the blood-soaked floor. The man’s body shuddered once before going still. Axel stood over the mangled corpse, his breath heavy, his shoulders rising and falling as he surveyed his work.

  “Every. Single. One of you is a walking dead man.” he muttered, his voice guttural, barely audible over the storm outside.

  The remaining knights froze, their courage evaporating in the face of the carnage.

  “What the fuck is that?!” one screamed, his voice breaking as he stumbled backward.

  “Run! RUN!” another bellowed, throwing his sword aside as he bolted.

  The group scattered, their footsteps splashing through the pools of blood that now covered the floor. But the shadows were merciless. Dark, clawed hands surged forward, grasping at the fleeing knights with terrifying precision.

  One knight screamed as a hand latched onto his leg, yanking him off his feet. He clawed at the floor, leaving streaks of bloodied handprints before being dragged into the void. His cries devolved into wet, choking gurgles, then silence. Another was snatched mid-run, hurled into the ceiling with a sickening crunch before crashing lifelessly to the ground.

  Amid the chaos, one knight made a stand, hurling a spear with all his might. The blade struck Axel square in the chest, driving deep. Axel staggered, a guttural growl rumbling from his throat. His eyes burned with fury as he turned toward the knight, his every step driving the spear further through his body until the tip emerged from his back, slick with blood.

  The knight whimpered, his courage faltering. Axel seized his helmet, crushing the metal under his grip. The knight pounded his fists against Axel, but it was no use.

  “How does it feel?” Axel growled, his voice dripping with malice. “To be in the situation you put your victims through? To cower in fear? As you ruthlessly killed and raped those innocent villagers…”

  With a snarl, Axel drove his thumbs into the slits of the helmet, finding the knight’s eyes. Blood spurted as the man thrashed in agony, his screams muffled by the armor. Axel’s nails sank deeper until, with a sickening squelch, he tore the knight’s head apart, discarding the body like a broken doll.

  Another knight charged, a mace raised high. “Die, you monster!” he bellowed, swinging with all his might. The mace struck Axel’s face with a loud crack, sending blood and teeth spraying across the floor.

  The knight staggered back, his breath catching as Axel raised his head. The lower half of his jaw hung grotesquely, chunks of flesh barely keeping it attached. His tongue lolled out, dripping blood onto his chest. Yet his burning eyes locked onto the knight with unholy fury, freezing him in place.

  Axel lunged, slamming his claws into the knight’s chest and knocking him to the ground. The mace spun in the air, and Axel snatched it mid-flight with disturbingly fluid movements. Lightning illuminated the scene as Axel raised the weapon high, his silhouette a nightmarish vision of blood and destruction.

  With a savage roar, he brought the mace down, shattering the knight’s shoulder. The man howled in pain as his arm bent unnaturally. Axel swung again, crushing ribs and caving in armor. Each blow drove the knight deeper into the blood-soaked floor until his body was unrecognizable.

  With a final, monstrous swing, Axel struck the knight’s head. The force sent it crashing through a nearby window, the glass shattering as the body tumbled into the stormy abyss below.

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  The voice rang out ominously, its calm detachment mocking the devastation.

  Panic spread like wildfire among the remaining knights. Explosions lit up the corridor as spells flew wildly, scorching walls and splintering stone. Chaos erupted as knights scattered like ants, their desperate cries forming a cacophony of fear.

  “Ready men!” a commander bellowed, his voice barely cutting through the noise. Cannons were dragged into position, their barrels aimed squarely at the advancing monster.

  “Fire!”

  Cannonballs tore through the air, detonating on impact with deafening roars. The corridor shook as dust and debris filled the air, the ceiling groaning under the strain as cracks spiderwebbed through the stone. For a moment, silence reigned, the knights staring into the thick cloud of smoke and rubble.

  Then, Axel emerged.

  Tattered and blood-soaked, his body was a grotesque mass of muscle and fury. The knights recoiled in terror, weapons trembling in their hands.

  “What the fuck is that?!”

  “That thing is the devil!”

  Axel surged forward with relentless speed, brushing off the attacks like a force of nature. Swords and spears tore into him, shredding flesh and severing limbs, yet he didn’t falter. Each strike only seemed to feed his bloodlust. He tore through the knights, leaving behind mangled corpses and trails of crimson.

  The walls ran red with blood, and the floor was a river of gore. Shadowy hands erupted from the void, snatching knights mid-stride, dragging them into the darkness where their screams were silenced by grotesque, wet sounds. Some knights flung themselves out of the windows, choosing the abyss over the nightmare within.

  “Haaayaaah!”

  A desperate knight hurled a barrel of wine at Axel, the liquid drenching him as it shattered. Another knight hurled a torch, the flame igniting instantly. Axel’s body became an inferno, his distorted, inhuman screams echoing through the burning hall. He thrashed wildly, the fire spreading to wooden beams and furniture. Sparks ignited more barrels, and the corridor erupted into an uncontrollable blaze.

  Knights fled toward the door as the heat became unbearable. A deafening explosion ripped through the castle, blasting the door from its hinges and slamming it into the far wall. Flames poured into the hall, casting the blood-soaked corridor in an apocalyptic glow.

  From the heart of the inferno, Axel emerged.

  His charred, broken body moved with wild, animalistic fury. Dropping to all fours, he let out a guttural roar, his glowing eyes locking onto the fleeing knights. His jaws snapped open, and with terrifying speed, he charged forward—a burning nightmare given form.

  “Run!” one knight screamed, his voice breaking with terror. “RUN!”

  But there was no escape. Axel tore through them, each step leaving more blood and ruin in his wake. Their screams echoed through the castle, swallowed by the raging fire and the storm outside.

  Yet the storm was nothing compared to the chaos within—a night of blood, fire, and death, with Axel at the heart of it all.

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