Loren lay on the ground, her body contorted in a pose of humiliation and despair. The physical pain was intense, but the agony of her soul was even greater. Her power, once so overwhelming, had been drained, subjugated, as if she were a cornered rat. She raised her eyes to the sky, searching for the giant eye that once watched her, that once guided her, that once filled her with the promise of the Void. But the eye was no longer there. Only the indifferent night sky stared back at her. It was as if Skull, the entity she so idolized, had abandoned her, given up on her.
"No!" she screamed, her voice hoarse and broken, a lament lost in the destruction-laden air. "Skull! My master! Please! Don't abandon me!" Tears streamed down her face, stained with blood and dust, mixing with the mud of humiliation. "I beg you! Love! Pity! I gave you everything! My soul, my body, my devotion! Why do you abandon me now?" She writhed on the ground, her fingers scratching the broken concrete, searching for an answer that never came. Silence was the only witness to her desperate plea, a silence that screamed abandonment.
K watched the scene with a sneer that barely curved her lips. The purple energy surrounding her pulsed softly, a cold contrast to Loren's feverish despair. "Selling one's soul is common," K said, her voice calm and sharp as a blade. "But no one likes to know what comes next, do they? The truth is, you were never anything more than a toy. A disposable tool for an entity that cares for no one but itself." Loren raised her head, her bloodshot eyes fixed on K, a mixture of hatred and recognition in her gaze.
With immense effort, Loren stood up, staggering, but with a newfound dignity in her defeat. She turned her back to K, clasped her hands, and knelt on the ground, her head bowed, as if in prayer. There was no more fury on her face, only a deep sadness and resigned acceptance. It was the image of a broken faith, of a betrayed devotion, yet still, a devotion. K watched her intently, the contempt in her eyes mixing with a hint of something more complex – perhaps pity, perhaps the bitter understanding of a fate she herself had avoided.
"Be quick," Loren whispered, her voice now strangely serene, almost a sigh. "I want to die the same way I came into the world. Naked. With nothing." The phrase was disturbing in its simplicity, a final plea for dignity amidst disgrace. K's face contorted in a mixture of disgust and anger. It was not the anger of an enemy, but the anger of someone who saw herself on a path that could have been, a path of servitude and annihilation. Without a word, K advanced. With a swift and brutal movement, she slammed Loren's head into the ground. A wet, sickening sound echoed, followed by an eerie silence. Loren's body convulsed one last time before falling inert. The energy of the Void, which had previously hung over the city, dissipated. The giant eye in the sky, which had disappeared, left no trace. Only silence remained, a heavy and oppressive silence, punctuated only by the rustling of the wind through the rubble.
K looked at Loren's lifeless body, a strange sense of emptiness filling her. How could anyone accept such a fate? How could anyone surrender so completely to an entity that would discard them without remorse? She scanned the devastated landscape. Ruined buildings, craters in the asphalt, smoke slowly rising into the sky. It looked like a battlefield, a silent testament to the ferocity of the fight. Her eyes turned to the alley where Orpheus had left Mira and Lyra. He was no longer there. A subtle relief washed over K. The boy had done his part. Now, she had to do hers. A thought about Zack struck her, not with concern, but with a cold fear. How would he react to knowing his friends were in a near-death state? K began to move, her eyes searching the rubble, looking for signs of life, for people trapped under walls and bricks. The battle was over, but the consequences were just beginning.
---
Far from the carnage and the smell of death, in a plane of existence that seemed to belong to another dream, the sun kissed a sunflower field that stretched as far as the eye could see. Their golden heads followed the sun in a silent, eternal dance, painting the landscape with vibrant shades of yellow and orange. In the distance, a lake of such a deep blue that it seemed to reflect the sky itself, harbored fish of all colors, swimming in shimmering schools, their scales catching the light. The sky, an immaculate blue mantle, was dotted with clear clouds that floated lazily, and, in a magical anomaly, stars shone brightly even during the day, like diamonds embedded in velvet. Birds with exotic plumage flew in graceful circles, their wings cutting through the air at the gentle touch of sunlight, their melodious songs filling the air with a symphony of peace. It was a paradise, an oasis of serenity, a reminder of the beauty that still existed in the world, a stark contrast to the spreading darkness.
But the idyllic image shattered like glass. The camera zoomed in, not on the field, but on a face. Zack's face. His eyes, previously lost in the contemplation of that ephemeral paradise, were now fixed, hard, with the cold intensity of a hunter sniffing out his prey. A trickle of blood ran from his hair, tracing a winding path across his forehead, a crimson stain against pale skin. His mouth was set in a thin line, an expression of contained anger, of silent fury, that distorted his features. The duality was palpable: the ethereal calm of the sunflower field and the violent storm raging within him. Peace was an illusion, and reality, a nightmare he was about to face.
---
The sky opened into a dark mantle, sprinkled with stars that shone with an almost supernatural intensity, while a blood moon, large and menacing, illuminated the scene with a crimson-red glow. Zack stood, or what was left of him, in a field of ruined wooden houses, the dim light filtering through the twisted trees creating dancing, ghostly shadows. The tall, damp, cold grass brushed against his legs, and the distant croaking of frogs broke the oppressive silence. His clothes, torn and bloodied, revealed skin marked by cuts and bruises. The Black Moon was not with him, nor any other weapon. He had been dragged out of the city, to this desolate place, a stage for what was to come.
Before him, the figures who had previously presented themselves as sweet and gentle elders, were now monsters. Their faces, once wrinkled with age, were deformed by primal rage and an insatiable desire for blood. There were no longer any traces of humanity in them, only the cold cruelty of predators. The old man, with a smile that did not reach his empty eyes, broke the silence. "How did you find out?" His voice was a hoarse whisper, but laden with a veiled threat.
Zack did not answer. His black eyes, hardened by battle and pain, swept over their auras. A chill ran down his spine. The power emanating from them was overwhelming, an S+ level he had rarely encountered. A chilling fear struck him. What if it wasn't just the energy? What if their abilities were also S+ Level or, worse, Dragon Level? The idea made him stagger. If these two were the guardians, the gatekeepers, then what awaited him ahead? If they were after the golden-eyed baby, then Zack had to assume the worst: they were the strongest, the most dangerous. He reached for his hip, instinctively searching for his knives, his scrolls, but there was nothing. The Black Moon, his companion of a thousand battles, was sealed, abandoned by his own choice the night before. A choice that now seemed a fatal mistake. He never imagined such a fight would come so quickly, much less that a golden-eyed baby would be at the center of it all.
The old woman, with a smile that stretched from ear to ear, observed Zack's silence. Her eyes, once full of false sweetness, now gleamed with a sinister light. "Why aren't you with the Black Moon, dear?" she asked, her voice laden with a genuine concern that sounded even more disturbing coming from her. Zack clenched his fists, anger and frustration bubbling within him. He was at a disadvantage, severely wounded, and now discovered that his enemies knew about his sword. The surprise hit him like a punch.
The old man, with a serious and sad look, stepped forward. "Are you alright, Zack?" he asked, his voice soft, almost paternal. "You can't abandon your companion. What would be the fun of fighting someone without arms?" The affection in his words was poison, a cruel manipulation Zack could barely bear. "Who are you?!" Zack screamed, his voice tearing through the air, a growing despair in his tone. "How do you know about the Black Moon?!"
The elders exchanged glances, and then, in unison, their voices joined in a macabre chorus that echoed through the night. "We love you, dear Zack." The blood moon's light bathed their faces, transforming affection into something grotesque, a disturbing scene that made Zack's stomach churn. He took a step back, his mind reeling. "Wait..." he murmured, the word lost in a sharp ringing that invaded his ears. He looked at the moon, and cosmic horror manifested. The blood moon transformed, not into a celestial orb, but into the Vision, the giant all-seeing eye, pulsing with a red and black light. The ringing in his ears intensified, a searing pain that threatened to tear his mind. "Get out of my head!" Zack screamed, desperate, falling to his knees, his hands clutching his head as if he could crush the vision. But the eye remained, watching, judging, penetrating his soul.
---
As Zack writhed on the ground, the Vision of the blood moon pulsing in his mind, the elders began to sing. It was not a melody, but a guttural chant, a litany of horror that seemed to come from the depths of the Void. The words, though unintelligible, resonated with an ancient malice, a promise of annihilation. It was Skull's song, a hymn of devotion and destruction that penetrated Zack's mind, distorting his thoughts, fueling his despair.
"*In Skull's eyes, darkness dances*," the old woman hissed, her melody scratching Zack's soul. "*In his whisper, hope tires*." The old man joined her, his voice deep and cavernous. "*The Void calls, an endless embrace*." Both sang in unison, their voices intertwining in a profane harmony. "*And in his glory, you lose yourself in me*."
Zack felt dizzy, his head spinning, the world around him dissolving into a blur of distorted colors and sounds. The song was poison, infiltrating every cell of his body, trying to steal his sanity. Despair consumed him, an overwhelming wave that threatened to drown him. He could not give in, could not surrender. If he fell, who would protect Orpheus? Who would protect Mira and Lyra? The image of his friends, wounded and vulnerable, flashed in his mind, a beacon in the darkness.
With a primal roar, Zack raised his fist and delivered a brutal punch to his own face. The impact was dry and violent, the sound of cracking bones echoing in the night. He flew three meters backward, falling heavily to the ground, the physical pain an anchor pulling him back to reality. Blood gushed from his nose and mouth, staining the ground, but the pain, the pain was real, it was tangible, and it prevented him from succumbing to the stupor induced by Skull's song. He would not sleep, would not surrender. Not now.
---
No sooner had Zack's body hit the ground than the elders moved. Not with the slowness their appearances suggested, but with terrifying speed, in perfect synchronicity. The ground beneath their feet shattered, splintering into tiny craters with each step, a testament to their colossal strength. They lunged at Zack, fists clenched, ready to deliver blows that would have crushed an ordinary man.
But Zack was no ordinary man. Even wounded, even without his weapons, his hunter's instincts were razor-sharp. Lying on the ground, he raised his feet, intercepting the elders' fists with millimeter precision. The impact was brutal, but he managed to stop the attack. In a fluid movement, he placed his hands on the ground and spun his body, delivering a double kick that struck both elders' faces, pushing them back forcefully. They staggered, but did not fall, their eyes fixed on Zack with a mixture of surprise and fury.
Zack gave them no time to recover. He leaped, propelling himself with surprising agility, and descended upon them like a hawk, delivering powerful punches to each of their heads. The elders were driven into the ground, the earth cracking under the impact. Zack took advantage of the brief pause, his eyes scanning the sky. The Vision was still there, pulsing in the blood moon, but he noticed something else. A subtle, yet growing energy emanated from the elders, connecting them to the moon. They were performing a fortification ritual, using the Vision's energy to amplify their own powers.
He could not allow this. With a roar, Zack moved away from the elders. He joined his fingers, his black aura exploding from his body, rapidly expanding. The dark energy spread around the environment, forming a dense and impenetrable dome that covered the battle area. The dome was not for attack, but to isolate, to cut off the elders' visual connection to the moon, delaying the fortification ritual.
But he had underestimated his enemies' cunning. No sooner had the dome formed than the old woman appeared behind him, her thin, yet incredibly strong arms, wrapping him in a suffocating embrace. "I don't want to hurt you, dear Zack," she whispered in his ear, her voice full of false tenderness. "It breaks my heart." As she held him, the old man approached, delivering a series of brutal punches to Zack's stomach and face. Each blow was a hammer, crushing his organs, breaking his bones. Zack clutched his abdomen, trying to absorb the impact, but it was too much. He spat blood onto the old man's face, blinding him momentarily, and delivered a blind kick that struck him squarely. He stomped on the old woman's foot, who let out a groan of pain, and with a front flip, managed to break free from the embrace, falling on top of her. He was one of the best fighters in the world, a master of hand-to-hand combat, and the elders, despite their power, were beginning to realize this. The Black Moon was a tool, yes, but the true weapon was Zack, and they were about to discover how lethal he could be even without it.
---
The elders, realizing that subtlety would not work, unleashed their full aura. Zack's black dome trembled under the pressure of overwhelming power. A dense, pulsating red energy erupted from the old woman's body, while a chilling, cutting blue aura emanated from the old man. The two energies clashed and intertwined within the dome, creating a vortex of power that distorted the air. The environment became heavy, oppressive, and Zack felt the weight of two S+ Levels turning against him. The air grew dense, and each breath was agony, his lungs burning with the intense cold that spread. The grass beneath his feet hardened, frozen, and vapor escaped his mouth with each exhalation.
"The order was not to harm you, dear Zack," the old woman said, her voice now a distorted echo, as if from an abyss. "But we cannot comply." Anger bubbled in Zack. "Who gave that order?!" he shouted, but there was no answer, only the ominous silence that precedes the storm. A viscous red goo began to ooze from the old woman's body, pulsing with a life of its own. It was her ability, a malleable substance that could stick, harden, or become elastic according to her will. At the same time, the air around the old man grew even colder, the blue aura intensifying, freezing everything in its path.
Zack realized the gravity of his situation. Unprepared, without the Black Moon, without his knives or scrolls, he was an easy target. Intelligence was his only weapon now, but even that seemed insufficient against such power. The greatest hunter in the world, the legendary Zack, was at a overwhelming disadvantage. He, who had always been the predator, now found himself the prey, cornered, wounded, and with the fate of his friends at stake. The chapter ends with Zack, the greatest hunter in the world, noticing his disadvantage and becoming the prey, with the imminent threat of the elders and their terrifying abilities hanging over him.