2025-12-17 06:10:22The orb pulsed faintly in the darkness, casting ghostly light across the witch's chamber. Rain wept against its curved surface, streaking down like tears on glass.
In the shadows of the room, she stood still—her silhouette veiled in darkness, unmoving, but fully awake. Her eyes fixed on the storm within the orb. And then, as chaos began to unravel, a whisper passed her lips. "Hmm... interesting." --- The forest groaned beneath the weight of rain. Trees swayed like grieving witnesses. Mud splashed violently beneath Aira's bare legs as she ran—breath ragged, soaked to the bone. Her heart pounded in her ears louder than the thunder overhead. Behind her—footsteps. Relentless. The Lust faction member hadn't stopped. She choked on her breath, lungs burning, but didn't slow. Suddenly, she ducked behind a massive tree. Her knees hit the wet ground hard. Her hands clamped over her mouth. She trembled, every muscle tight with fear. Tears mixed with rain as she watched—eyes wide—through the leaves. A shadow passed. Close. Searching. It paused. Aira's body froze completely. The figure lingered for a moment, peering through the trees... Then moved on. Silence returned, broken only by the storm. Aira let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Her part in this nightmare had ended. --- Not far away, deeper in the storm-wracked woods, Bjorn staggered through the trees. His body was wrecked. Blood leaked from cuts and bruises. Rain washed over him without mercy. Every breath rattled like glass in his chest. But he wasn't wandering aimlessly. He knew where he was going. Ahead, past the thorny roots and crooked trunks, stood that tree—twisted, eerie, unnatural. The one no one dared approach. The one everyone else had avoided. But Bjorn remembered it. From when he first arrived. From that quiet moment of dread. And in some strange, unspoken way—it had remembered him too. He limped toward it. His strength failed. He collapsed at its base. His body slumped forward, forehead resting against the bark, as if surrendering to it. Blood and rain streamed down his face. His eyes fluttered, heavy. The storm poured without pause. Bjorn didn't rise again. --- Open field. Night. Raining hard. Two groups stood facing each other across the mud—Pride, split in two. On the left, Lucien's side. Composed, organized, deadly. On the right, his rival's—fierce, wild-eyed, ready to tear the world apart. Faces tight with fury. The rain hammered down like war drums. Neither side moved. Until, at last, the rival broke the silence. "I won't follow a false king," he spat. "This ends tonight." Lucien's expression remained cold. Calm. Unreadable. Then came the first scream. And with it, the battlefield exploded. --- A riot. A storm. A bloodbath. Rain turned earth into sludge. Fists slammed into jaws. Bodies crashed against trees. People were tackled, strangled, headbutted. No weapons. No mercy. No tactics. Just raw, ugly violence. The forest echoed with roars and curses. You couldn't tell who was winning—only who hadn't fallen yet. --- In the thick of it, Lucien fought like a beast. Every movement was brutal and precise. He caught a man by the wrist, snapped it sideways, and drove an elbow into his throat. Another lunged from behind—Lucien ducked, spun, and drove a knee into his ribs. But then, across the battlefield—his rival charged. The two collided like forces of nature. Lucien's fist slammed into the rival's jaw. The rival retaliated with a hook to the ribs and a wild slam that threw them both into the mud. They rolled, grappled, bit, struck. Mud flew. Blood poured. Neither backed down. Around them, the rest of Pride was tearing itself apart. --- The storm never relented. Rain washed over shattered faces. Boots sank into soaked dirt. People crawled, clawed, choked, screamed. It wasn't a battle anymore. It was a purge. Far away, in her dark room, the witch tilted her head. She watched them tear each other to pieces. "Dance for me, little fools..." Her grin widened. "Let the rain baptize your ruin." And still they fought. No one surrendered. No one begged. No one paused. Not until the last strength bled from the last man standing. Not until someone finally—broke.
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chapter 10: the bets of walpurgis
The apple had long since rotted in her hand.But the old woman still sat there, unmoving—eyes fixed on the glowing orb, its surface pulsing with light, war, and whispers.Inside: chaos, blood, betrayal.Outside: silence.Until—The room shifted.The air bent.The shadows along the stone walls deepened—then peeled away like skin, forming shapes… six of them.Six silhouettes emerged from the corners of the witch's dim chamber—each cloaked in veils of time, darkness, and ancient intent.One tall and hunched, her form decorated in raven feathers.One gaunt and glass-eyed, skin like dried parchment stretched over bone.One with a crooked crown of vines twisting through his tangled beard.Another—a child's size—yet her voice, when she finally spoke, rang with centuries.A fifth—limping, snorting, teeth chattering as if laughing at a joke no one told.The last—a figure cloaked head-to-toe in stitched fabrics, neither voice nor gender clear, only humming with dreadful glee.They all stood beh
chapter 9: only the worthy bleeds
The apple cracked between her teeth with a sickening crunch.Juice dripped from the corner of her lips—thick and red like blood—as the old woman leaned forward, eyes locked on the glowing orb.Within its shifting light, the scenes played out like a violent opera.Wounded men. Wild fists. Blood-soaked dirt. Fear. Rage. Betrayal.She licked her thumb slowly, savoring the juice, and whispered—> "Mmm... the Orb World never ceases to entertain me."Her silhouette remained still, but her eyes gleamed—hungry.---Mud exploded beneath their feet.Bjorn and the Wrath leader clashed again, teeth bared, soaked in blood and fury. Every punch was thunder. Every blow—meant to shatter bone.Their grunts and growls echoed through the trees like wild beasts.Bjorn's elbow cracked into the leader's ribs.The Wrath leader roared, grabbed his arm, and threw him—Bjorn skidding across the wet ground, his back smashing against the cursed tree once again.But Bjorn pushed up—breathing heavy, defiant.Then—h
chapter 8: no master's
The forest remained hushed, the mist now curling away from the clearing like it, too, knew who ruled here.Lucien stood motionless, his figure carved from the silence—tall, unbending, framed by the blood-soaked ground that bore witness to his triumph.Before him, Kane still knelt.But now, something had shifted.Not in Lucien.In Kane.Submission had calcified into something more dangerous.Obedience.Lucien's voice finally broke the stillness. Cold. Commanding. Drenched in pride.> "Rise, Kane. You no longer kneel for forgiveness. You kneel for purpose."Kane lifted his head slowly, bruised features hardening beneath the weight of Lucien's gaze.> "Yes… commander."Lucien didn't blink. His eyes, like polished obsidian, held no warmth.> "Your pride failed you. Your tactics failed you. And yet, here you stand. Not because of worth... but because I see use in you."Kane remained silent. He understood now: survival wasn't a right—it was permission.Lucien turned slightly, the wind catch
chapter 7: the broken lines, brewing stone
The rain had stopped.Morning light bled faintly through the trees, a dull gray that barely warmed the forest floor. Mist curled around the roots like restless spirits. Somewhere nearby, birds chirped cautiously—as if even they feared to break the silence.Bjorn stirred.His body ached like he'd been trampled by fate itself. His eyelids fluttered, crusted with dried blood and mud. He was still at the base of that tree—the same cursed tree he'd chosen last night. Its bark now dug coldly into his back.He didn't open his eyes fully. Not yet.Voices. Close.He lay still, listening.> "Why the hell didn't you finish him off last night?!"A harsh voice. Guttural. Full of restrained violence.The Wrath faction leader.Bjorn could feel the weight in that voice—the kind that didn't make idle threats.Another voice answered. Calm. Sharper. Less predictable.Not what Bjorn expected from someone under Wrath's command.> "Because you're not thinking."A beat of silence.> "He survived the Walpurg
chapter 6: blood in the rain
The orb pulsed faintly in the darkness, casting ghostly light across the witch's chamber. Rain wept against its curved surface, streaking down like tears on glass.In the shadows of the room, she stood still—her silhouette veiled in darkness, unmoving, but fully awake.Her eyes fixed on the storm within the orb.And then, as chaos began to unravel, a whisper passed her lips."Hmm... interesting."---The forest groaned beneath the weight of rain.Trees swayed like grieving witnesses.Mud splashed violently beneath Aira's bare legs as she ran—breath ragged, soaked to the bone. Her heart pounded in her ears louder than the thunder overhead.Behind her—footsteps. Relentless.The Lust faction member hadn't stopped.She choked on her breath, lungs burning, but didn't slow.Suddenly, she ducked behind a massive tree.Her knees hit the wet ground hard. Her hands clamped over her mouth.She trembled, every muscle tight with fear.Tears mixed with rain as she watched—eyes wide—through the leav
chapter 5: the ones who moves first
The forest whispered"Twisted trees loomed like ancient, horned sentinels. Among them stood a single, eerie monolith of wood—bark warped and gnarled, older than memory. Beneath its crooked shadow, Bjorn stood still, staring up at it as if it were watching him too.> "If no one else will choose it… I will."His hand reached out and pressed against its scarred surface. It was cold, coarse, and... familiar in a way nothing else in this world was.From the shadows behind him, something shifted.A low whisper carried on the wind:> "There he is… let's begin."---Far from the cursed tree, in the prideful heart of the forest, tension flared like fire.Lucius stood tall on a moss-covered stone, his regal frame lit by the fading sun. Around him, the Pride faction boiled with argument. Raised voices, clenched fists, seething glares.> "We won't follow your orders anymore!" one member barked.Lucius didn't flinch. He only looked down upon them, expression unreadable, eyes colder than the shade
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