HELL'S ARCHITECT

Chapter 10. Message from The Grave

The growl stopped abruptly, replaced by a far more terrifying silence. Not an empty silence, but a predatory one, a stillness that signaled something was preparing to strike.

Elios was still kneeling before the blood writing.

His trembling hand touched the cold concrete floor. His fingertip traced the letter O of the name his wife had written. The concrete surface felt rough, sticky with blood that had half-dried. Something was left there, not just a stain, but the residual emotion of someone who knew their end was near, yet refused to leave without a trace.

“Elios…” Vera’s voice was soft behind him.

Her robotic, authoritative tone was gone. She stood about two meters behind Elios, her energy pistol raised, the muzzle slowly sweeping the darkness. The sensors on her visor flickered erratically.

“We are not alone,” she continued, more tense. “Motion sensors are detecting air displacement. Get up, quickly.”

Elios didn’t answer.

His shoulders rose and fell with an unnatural rhythm, his breathing heavy, choked by the emotion pressing from within.

“She was waiting for me, Vera,” he whispered hoarsely. His voice sounded like glass being slowly scraped. “She wrote this while enduring the pain. She wrote this so I would know who was responsible.”

“I understand, but we must—”

“Quiet.”

The word fell heavily.

Elios slowly stood up. He didn't turn around. His eyes were fixed on the dark corner of the room, where the pair of yellow eyes had briefly glowed seconds ago.

“Did you hear that, Demon?” he said to the empty space. His voice was low, controlled, but lethal. “Do you see the writing on the floor? That was my wife. And whoever made her bleed here… I will pay them back in full. Including you, who is just watching.”

SWIIISH!

The air was sharply split beside his head.

Elios’s killer reflexes worked faster than his mind. His neck tilted a fraction of a second to the right.

CRACK!

An invisible claw slammed into the concrete pillar behind him. Three deep gashes were clearly imprinted, each nearly five centimeters deep. Concrete fragments fell to the floor.

If Elios had been a second late, his head would have been severed from his neck.

“Nine o’clock position!” Vera yelled, panicked. “Target invisible! Stealth Camouflage!”

Her energy pistol fired. A blue laser beam cut the air, hitting the darkness. But nothing was there. The shot only passed through empty space.

“Useless,” Elios said coldly, unmoving. “It’s in the Shadow Realm. Its physical form only appears when it attacks.”

His rage sharpened his mind.

He reached into his tactical belt and pulled out a gray tube grenade.

“Cover your nose.”

Without waiting for an answer, Elios pulled the pin with his teeth and threw it not toward the enemy, but right at his own feet.

POOOOF!

Thick white smoke exploded and immediately spread, engulfing them within a five-meter radius. The room turned into a sea of fog.

“Cough! What are you doing?!” Vera choked, her voice distorted. “We’re blind!”

“We’ve been blind all along,” Elios replied calmly.

He stood still in the center of the smoke. His Shotgun raised, his body relaxed but ready. His eyes followed the movement of the smoke, unnatural patterns, small swirls split by something moving.

“But now…” he continued softly, “…it can’t hide.”

Silence.

Then the smoke on their left side split.

There was an empty silhouette moving quickly—not a shadow, but a void cutting through the smoke particles, like a ghost running through the fog.

“Got you.”

BLAM!

The Shotgun roared. The close-range blast shook the room.

A shrill shriek was heard, not the sound of an ordinary living creature. Purple blood spurted, spreading in the air, staining the white smoke into a terrifying abstraction.

The figure staggered. Its stealth cloak was broken. Its true form flickered, like a corrupted television broadcast.

A Hunter-Demon.

Nearly two meters tall. Its body was thin and dry, its skin like scorched wood. Its arms were too long, with bone blades growing from its elbows. Its face was flat, without a nose or ears, only four yellow eyes burning with hatred.

“I see you!” Vera yelled, aiming.

But the demon was faster.

Although its shoulder was shattered, it leaped onto the wall, crawling on all fours, then lunged at Vera from above like a living projectile.

“Vera! Duck!”

Too late.

The demon’s body slammed into Vera, knocking her hard to the floor. The bone blade on its elbow swung straight toward Vera’s neck.

CLANG!

It wasn't Vera's neck that was torn.

Elios blocked the attack.

The Shotgun barrel pressed against the demon’s arm. Iron met bone. Sparks flew between them.

Elios’s face was only inches from the monster’s. The stench of foul breath, carrion, and sulfur hit his face.

“You smell just like them,” Elios hissed, staring directly into the four yellow eyes. “The smell of a traitor.”

With a savage yell, Elios kicked the demon’s stomach. The creature’s body was thrown backward, hitting the floor.

The Shotgun was empty.

Elios discarded it without hesitation and drew the two Kukris from his back.

“Come on,” he said softly. “Let’s dance.”

The demon roared and tried to vanish again. But Elios moved faster. He scooped up the floor dust—dust mixed with Lyra’s blood, which contained residual Essence—and threw it into the demon’s face.

The particles stuck to the demon’s eyes, forcing it to remain in the physical world.

SLASH!

The first slash severed the right arm.

CRUNCH!

The second slash hit the knee, breaking the leg. The demon fell to its knees with a fractured moan.

“This is for Sector 4!”

Elios spun, slashing its back.

“This is for the train!”

One more slash struck, enough to bring it down completely.

The demon crawled backward, groaning in terror. For the first time, the Hunter became the Hunted.

Elios stepped on the creature’s chest, pinning it to the floor.

“And this…” his knife lifted high. “…is for my wife!”

STAB!

The knife plunged into the black heart. Elios twisted it. Pulled it down. Slicing the creature’s chest open.

The demon convulsed, then went still.

Elios raised his knife again, then stopped. The creature's chest was motionless. Rage still roared in his head, but his body knew: it was over.

“Elios.”

Vera’s voice was close.

“You won,” she said, not commanding. “Don’t get lost here.”

Elios’s hand trembled.

He looked at his knife. Purple blood coated his fingers, running down to his wrist and dripping onto the ground.

For a moment he felt sick, not at the demon’s blood, but at himself.

He dropped the kukris. METAL clanged on the floor. Silence descended again, heavy and wet.

And far beyond the walls of the complex, an alarm began to wail, slowly, then louder and louder.