Silence wrapped the village like a coffin lid.The old woman's fingers dug into Ryn's sleeve until the fabric creaked.Her eyes were dried rivers; her breath came small like a dying candle.
"Promise me one thing, son… No matter what happens, don't do anything. Promise me!"Ryn hesitated… then nodded. "I promise."
Outside, footsteps echoed at the village gate.A shadow moved through the mist like a blade sliding from a sheath.And then — silence.
The shadow stopped at the gate.Not a human step. Not an animal's. Something… pulled by other hands.
From inside the house the old woman whispered, "He never shows his face… he comes in black… and he asks for one man."
Ryn's heart beat like a drum.
A house door crashed open with a thunderous smash.One villager screamed, fought — but his limbs were taken like a puppet's strings.He walked. He knelt. He kissed his wife's hand like a funeral rite.
"No — it's not my turn yet!" the man cried.But his voice was metal and hollow. He walked forward anyway.
Ryn looked at the old woman. Her lips moved silently; her hands shook.
"Don't move." she mouthed. "If you move… they will take us all."
Ryn's fingers burned. Watching that father leave his child — letting the life be stolen — it snapped something inside him.
He stood.
The old woman clutched his leg, skin like brittle paper. "NO—don't—please—!"
Ryn stepped out.
He walked straight up to the thing at the gate — the corpse-man with ropes of guts like ropes, blood-stained rags, a burnt sigil at his brow.
"Stop you jerk… who the hell are you…" Ryn laughed — half-mad, half-cold. "Look at you, fully smelly man. Have you not taken a bath in years?"
Every villager froze — faces pale, eyes wide like stunned fish.The puppet ignored Ryn, walking on with his latest chosen.
Ryn couldn't let that pass. He grabbed the puppet's shoulder, shoved, laughed in its face.
"Hey zombie… let's some chit chat you—"
Then a voice not his own burned from the puppet's mouth, deep as an iron bell:
"Trash… out of my eyesight in three seconds. Or you will regret being born."
The pressure hit like a hammer. The villagers dropped to their knees, groaning under the weight of a command that reached into the bones.
Ryn felt the force climb his legs. For a second the world tilted.
He smiled through the pressure.
"Hah. I like guts."
He lashed out — flame cutting twice like a blade.The puppet's arm split. Flesh smoked. Ash blew away.
The pressure vanished like a popped bubble. The villagers scrambled back into their homes, terrified and silent. No cheers. No thanks. Only the old woman's voice, cold and hollow behind him.
"When I said don't do anything… why did you do this? Child… now we are all in danger."
Ryn steadied, wiped blood from his mouth, and demanded the truth.
The old woman sat and told everything — the festival, the first arrival, the black form, the demand.
"He was here the day we celebrated the founding — the sky turned black and there was a shape. No face. Just power. He told us: 'If you want to survive, send one man every month.' We thought it was mad. Then three men went… they laughed… but later — their arms were cut and burned — and the thing drank their blood. Two arms gone — one man both legs — lit on fire — screaming forever. It was his warning. He said, 'This is a small example, my pets.' Then he vanished. We have sent men ever since."
Ryn's jaw clenched. Her voice cracked with every memory.He held the old woman like she was the last tree in winter.
"It's okay… I'm here," he whispered.
When she finally slept, exhaustion swallowing the old terror, Ryn left the house.He walked to the ash where the puppet had died for a moment earlier.He stared at the black powder.
"I know I destroyed your… your body," Ryn said to the ashes. "I know you can hear me. So tell me— WHERE CAN I FIND YOU?"
A single whisper came from the ashes, like smoke through teeth:
"Follow the steps…"
Dead scuffed footsteps appeared — black marks on the road that burned like coal.Ryn licked his lips and grinned. "Today is gonna be crazy. I'm feeling excited."
He followed the steps — through dead wood, fog, a road where the trees watched like hungry men — until a castle rose out of the mist.The sun refused to touch the stones. The gate yawned like a hungry mouth.
Inside—bodies. Men with missing parts. Blood painted like a mural. The taste of iron thick in the air.
At the throne sat a figure, relaxed, drinking something red from a goblet.
Ryn walked until he could see the face.
A girl sat there. Pale, malicious smile, pretty — but her hands, her clothes, were soaked in blood. She sipped the red liquid like wine.
Ryn laughed out loud.
"Eh? Girl, really. So you are the one who did this stupid things. If you did not find your partner then its very bad thing to harm all mens you know that — in smiling and angry voice."
The girl's smile barely changed.
"Shut up," she said. "You low insect. You don't know who I am. If I tell you, you'd kill yourself at once."
Ryn smirked. "A girl with a pretty face, but a voice like a pig asking for meat."
She stood. Her gaze bore into him like a blade.
"I never eat men. I suck their blood. But for the first time I'll cut every part of your body to make a perfect meal for me today."
Ryn stepped forward, flame licking his skin.
"Ohh I see. But first you have to touch me."
Flame exploded from him — .
She blinked — a thin, vicious smile.
"Ohh, Fire Spiritual Element, eh? Not bad. Let's see how many seconds you stand in my sight."
She vanished — a ghosty skip — and blinked behind Ryn with a blade at his neck.
"Let's start the party."
Ryn moved as she moved — blade against blade — and he matched her speed.
"Nice try little girl," he said. "Not today."
She laughed and threw a fierce punch into his jaw — a knee into his face — and Ryn slammed back hard. Blood sprayed.
He tasted death for a second — a cold whisper — and found his hand still holding the sword.
Why didn't I see her next move? he thought. She didn't use spiritual power… so how—?
She screamed like a hunting bird.
"Don't fall down, champy boy. The party just started now — don't quit."
Her hands were quick, playful, cruel. She toyed with him — punches, tosses, pain.
Then Ryn felt his fire burning through her arms — not just hurt but numb, burning. Her skin smoked where the flames touched.
"Pretty good, eh?" Ryn spat. "Let's try something new."
He called Inferna Soul to his hand. The blade hovered, thirsty.
Her eyes widened. WHAT?? REALLY?
she could not hide shock.
She summoned her sword.
Both weapons pointed.
Both bodies vanished in speed.
A clash — a flash —Then the unimaginable:
Ryn's blade MISSED the grip — and she cut straight into his chest.
He collapsed — blood bursting out.
She stood over him.
"Look at you. Weak. Low life. Holding a GOD'S sword."She laughed endlessly."You don't deserve this sword, weak pig."
She reached to grab Inferna Soul.
And then—
It happened.
A blue flame erupted from Ryn's body — silent, deadly, divine.
Her eyes filled with terror.
"What… what is this… why is this happening… I CUT HIM — WHY — WHY —!!?"
Ryn stood — but he was not Ryn.
Eyes unknown.Clothes shifting into divine form.A crown like a moon above his head.
She couldn't breathe from fear.
Ryn grabbed her throat — Slammed her into the ground.Then threw her into the throne like she weighed nothing.Her body shattered with blood.
She tried to stand — but Ryn kicked her head back to the ground and pinned her.
She screamed — endlessly.
"PLEASE FORGIVE ME!!! PLEASE — PLEASE — PLEASE — JUST FORGIVE ME — I WON'T HARM ANY MAN AGAIN — PLEASE JUST SPARE ME — PLEASE—!!!"
Her tears, blood, desperation — the pain consumed her.
And then—
Ryn fell unconscious.
Not slowly.Instantly — as if someone turned off his existence.
Hours later — he woke up.
The girl was sitting beside him — crying silently — afraid to even breathe.
Ryn blinked, confused.
"What happened…? I remember getting stabbed… I thought I was dead… Why can't I remember anything…?"
There was a long pause.
Then he asked quietly:
"…Who are you?"
The girl wiped her tears.
"I am a demon…My name is Zaara."
Ryn stared.
"A demon…? Then why are you in the human world? Why didn't you stay in hell?"
Zaara answered with shaking voice:
"My father threw me out of the family…He sealed most of my power…So to restore myself… I drank the blood of men…"
Ryn clenched his fist.
"You killed so many lives for something so stupid…Is there ANY way to bring them back?"
Zaara nodded weakly.
"Yes… but only if you help me regain my full power…If we defeat my father…I can return every single life."
Ryn looked straight into her eyes.
"…Where can we find your father?"
Zaara shook.
"In hell…"
Ryn smirked.
"So your father… is strong like you?"
Zaara stared at the floor.
"No…I am nothing…I am a little doll in front of him.He is hell itself.Because…He is the Demon King."
Ryn grinned like a lunatic.
"Demon King, huh?Looks like my next hunt is a big monster."
Zaara stared in shock — because he wasn't afraid.He was excited.
— Scene Shift —
A filthy slum far away. Rivers run red and slow. Bodies float — knights, adventurers, merchants — everything that dared to hunt or dream.
A tall man washed his hands in the red water — smiling at his reflection.
A crown of bones.A smile sharper than death.
He looked straight at the screen — like he could see the world watching.
"Hmmm I smelled more delicious Blood." Bloody Bloody Man ahhaha.....
END —