The Tyrant Of The Red Throne

"I need a little more soup than that, Mom. If this is all I get, Henry is going to roast me alive tomorrow when we're out chopping wood in the forest."

Twenty-year-old Roy Jecoriah pushed his empty wooden bowl toward the center of the table. A bright smile lit up his face, which was still smudged with dirt from the fields. Under the dim glow of the oil lamp, the Jecoriah family's wooden cabin felt worlds warmer than the crisp autumn night outside.

"You sure eat a lot for someone so scrawny," his mother teased, pouring a thick broth filled with potato chunks and leftover game meat into Roy's bowl. "And chopping wood, you say? I know you four are just looking for an excuse to skip working in the fields."

"Hey, that's pure slander, Mom! Ivan is the one who's always dragging us around to slack off. I happen to be the hardest-working guy in Oakhaven!" Roy protested, puffing out his chest in an exaggerated display of pride.

Across the table, his eight-year-old sister, Elara, laughed so hard she choked on a piece of stale bread.

"Liar!" Elara cried out, pointing right at her brother's nose. "Just yesterday you ran away screaming and fell into a mud puddle because a baby wild boar chased you! Faried had to be the one to shoot it!"

"That was a strategic retreat, you little brat! You just don't understand the art of war!" Roy shot back, playfully messing up his sister's braided hair.

"Strategic retreat, my butt!" Elara retorted, sticking her tongue out at him.

"Alright, that's enough, you two. You can never just eat in peace, can you?" Roy's father, a middle-aged man with tired but gentle features, set his spoon down. He looked at his son intently. "Roy, take those winter wolf pelts to the village market tomorrow. Trade them for some wheat. It looks like winter is coming early this year. The wind is howling pretty fiercely tonight."

"Sure thing, Dad. First thing tomorrow morning I will,"

BOOOOOOM!

A deafening explosion shattered the air, violently cutting Roy off. The entire structure of their wooden cabin shook violently. The oil lamp on the table shattered into pieces, spilling liquid fire all over the cloth runner.

"Earthquake?! Get out! Everyone, get out!" Roy's father shouted in a panic, desperately reaching for Elara's hand.

But it wasn't an earthquake.

CRASH!

The thatched roof right above their dining table exploded inward. It wasn't the wind, but a massive, double-headed steel warhammer that had been brought down with terrifying force from above the cabin. The hammer, practically the size of a grown man, slammed directly into Roy's father.

There was no scream. There were no last words. The upper half of the middle-aged man's body simply exploded into a mist of crimson and shredded flesh.

"NOOO!" his mother's hysterical scream tore through the night, a night that had instantly transformed into pure hell.

The impact of the hammer shattered the house's main pillar. A teak support beam, as thick as a man's thigh, snapped and plummeted straight toward Roy.

He didn't even have time to dodge. The massive beam crushed his left chest, pinning him hard against the dirt floor.

CRACK!

"Aaarghhh!"

Roy's eyes went wide. A blinding, agonizing pain exploded in his chest. Three of his ribs snapped instantly, puncturing his lung. He coughed violently, hacking up thick, dark blood onto the wooden debris. His vision spun. The thick dust, the smell of smoke, and the metallic stench of his father's blood overwhelmed his senses.

Through the gaping hole in the roof, the night sky was no longer pitch black. It was glowing a fiery red.

Outside, a long, blood-curdling howl echoed through the air.

"Burn it all down! Don't let a single one of these hairless monkeys escape!" a gruff, heavy voice, dripping with murderous intent, boomed from just outside the wreckage.

"Help! Somebody, please help!"

"Please don't kill my husband! I beg you, just take our wheat!"

"Bastards! Die, you freakish monsters!"

"Ahahaha! Is this monkey really trying to stab me with a pitchfork? Snap his neck!"

A chaotic chorus of screams, the sickening crunch of breaking bones, and cruel laughter echoed from every corner of the village. Through the gaps in the timber pinning him down, Roy witnessed a scene that would permanently shatter his sanity.

Towering figures, well over seven feet tall, darted nimbly through the roaring flames. They had human-like bodies bulging with grotesque muscles, covered in thick fur. They had the snouts of wolves, and their razor-sharp claws gleamed in the firelight.

Beast Men. The Lycan race from the Northern Woods.

Never in history had they attacked a border territory this far south without warning. How the hell did dozens of these monsters slip past the human guard posts without setting off a single alarm bell?!

"Mom, Elara," Roy groaned, gasping for air. Blood flooded his mouth every time he tried to speak. His trembling hands pushed against the wooden beam crushing his chest. It was useless. The wood was just too heavy. "Ugh, dammit. Move, you stupid body!"

Behind the ruined table in the corner of the room, Roy's mother tightly hugged Elara, who was shaking violently and sobbing uncontrollably. The woman's face was covered in her husband's blood.

"Shh, quiet, sweetie. Don't make a sound," his mother whispered in sheer desperation, her trembling hand covering Elara's mouth.

Heavy footsteps approached. The ground practically vibrated. A Lycan covered in dirty brown fur stepped right into the wreckage of the Jecoriah home. The monster grunted roughly, taking a deep sniff of the night air. Drool dripped from its fangs, which were already coated in fresh human blood.

"I smell female flesh," the monster growled. Its head snapped toward the smashed wooden table. With one casual kick, it shattered the remaining wood into splinters, completely exposing his mother and Elara.

"Well, well. Look what's hiding over here. Dessert." The Lycan's yellow eyes narrowed, its lips curling into a sadistic smirk.

"Get away! You bastard, stay away from my family!" Roy screamed at the top of his lungs from beneath the rubble. His voice was hoarse and thick with blood. He pounded weakly against the beam on his chest, completely ignoring the tearing agony in his lungs. "Fight me, you son of a bitch! Don't you touch them!"

The Lycan didn't even bother to glance in Roy's direction. It treated Roy like nothing more than a disgusting, dying worm.

"Please, sir," Roy's mother dropped to her knees, her tears soaking the dusty ground. Her hands desperately gripped the monster's furry leg. "Take everything we have. Take my life! But please, I beg you, let my daughter live. She's still so little."

"We superior beings don't eat your stale wheat, bitch. And we sure don't need garbage begging for our pity," the Lycan growled.

The monster swung its leg, kicking Roy's mother squarely in the jaw with its full strength. A sickening crack echoed out. The woman's body was launched through the air, slamming into the remains of the stone wall so hard it crumbled. She collapsed in a heap like a broken ragdoll, completely motionless.

"MOMMY!" Elara shrieked hysterically. The little girl tried to run toward her mother, but a massive, furry hand with pitch-black claws grabbed her by the braid, lifting her tiny body into the air like it was absolutely nothing.

"ROY! HELP ME, ROY! IT HURTS!" Elara thrashed around in the air, her tiny, helpless legs kicking uselessly against the Lycan's chest, which was as hard as steel.

Roy's world stopped spinning. His heart, his soul, and his entire belief in a warm and peaceful world shattered into a million pieces right then and there.

The young man who, just minutes ago, had been laughing freely at his family's silly jokes, was now forced to watch absolute hell unfold right before his very eyes.

"LET HER GO, YOU BASTARD!" Roy roared. Tears streamed down his blood- and dirt-streaked face. He dug his fingernails into the dirt until they bled, trying desperately to drag his own body out from under the wood, literally tearing his own flesh in the process. "Please, please, let my sister go! Take me! Eat my flesh, you sick freak! NOT HER!"

The Lycan finally glanced down, staring at Roy as he writhed pathetically on the floor. It threw its head back and laughed loudly, a horrific sound like two jagged rocks scraping together.

"Eat your flesh? You can't even save yourself, worm," the Lycan mocked, keeping the terrified, crying Elara hoisted high in the air. "Tender young meat like this is our Captain's absolute favorite. Soft enough to chew right off the bone, completely raw."

"NOOOOOO! ELARA!"

"Roy! Mom, Roy!"

The monster leaped effortlessly through the ruined roof, carrying Elara away into the wreckage above.

"Don't, please," Roy's voice was now nothing but a ragged whisper. His throat was completely wrecked from screaming so hard.

Outside the cabin, the raucous laughter of the monsters grew even louder. "Captain! I got a fresh one!" the Lycan from before called out.

"Good. Crush her bones so she doesn't squirm," replied a much deeper, more commanding voice.

"NO! DON'T DO IT!" Roy weakly reached his hand out, grasping at empty air.

Suddenly, Elara's screams outside were cut brutally short by the sickening, wet crunch of snapping bone and tearing flesh. It was immediately followed by a chorus of joyful laughter echoing into the night sky.

There was no more crying from his little sister. There was nothing at all.

Time seemed to freeze for Roy. The massive wooden beam crushing his chest didn't even hurt anymore. His entire body had gone numb. His eyes stared blankly up at the hole in the roof, right where the monster had leaped out.

He couldn't think. His sanity was forced to swallow the horrific reality that his entire family had just been butchered in front of him in less than five minutes. No hero came to save them. No god answered his prayers. In this world, the weak were just blades of grass, waiting to be trampled on.

Drip.

Something warm fell from the ruins above. It landed perfectly on Roy's cheek.

Drip. Drip.

A thick, dark crimson liquid began flowing steadily down from the debris of the ruined roof, washing over Roy's face. He knew that metallic smell all too well. It was his sister's blood. Elara's blood.

Roy wasn't crying anymore. His lips were parted slightly, his breaths coming in slow, agonizing gasps. Oxygen outright refused to enter his punctured lungs. Darkness slowly crept into the edges of his vision. This was death. A death that was cold, helpless, and utterly pathetic.

"So, is this the end?" Roy thought to himself. Empty. An absolute void swallowed his heart. All those warm memories of his mother's laughter, his father's teasing, and his little sister's smile, were now completely buried under an absolute, suffocating hatred for himself. For being so damn weak.

His vision faded to black completely. His heart beat for the very last time.

Until, in the deafening silence of his own death, right amidst the roaring flames swallowing the village of Oakhaven,

Waaah! Waaaaah!

The shrill, piercing cry of a human baby broke through the night from a burning neighboring cabin. A cry so pure and so fragile, shattering the monsters' hellish symphony.

At the sound of that cry, a single drop of Elara's blood resting on Roy's cheek suddenly seeped right into his pores. Something that had been lying dormant deep within the young man's genetics violently snapped awake.

Inside his rapidly cooling veins, the heart that was supposed to have stopped, started beating once again.

It wasn't the steady, life-giving heartbeat of an ordinary human. It was a slow, heavy thudding, beating just like a war drum from the very depths of hell. Something inside his veins had woken up. And it was absolutely starving.