A heavy stench of blood filled the air.
A small boy lay inside a muddy hollow deep within the forest. His body was soaked in blood from head to toe. The cold wind brushed against his tiny frame, and he could feel it clearly through the layer of blood covering his skin.
He heard a sound coming from the bushes in front of him.
With exhausted eyes, he slowly turned his gaze in that direction.
Moments later, a blond, elegant woman emerged from between the shrubs.
Her eyes did not seem to be looking at the filthy body lying on the ground. Instead, they pierced deeper—into the boy's soul, a soul that had been defiled countless times.
Beside the woman stood a man who had arrived with her. His face was as beautiful as an angel's.
With the last bit of strength he had left, the child instinctively reached out toward them.
Then his eyes closed.
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Zach slowly opened his eyes, accompanied by a sharp, throbbing headache.
He began to take in his surroundings.
His wrists were shackled, chains extending upward from them and fastening him to the ceiling.
From any angle, he was suspended roughly a meter above the ground.
The space was illuminated only by the dull glow of a single torch hanging on the opposite wall.
As his eyes gradually adjusted to the faint light, the objects around him became clearer.
He was inside a cave.
Wooden tables surrounded the spot where he hung, and various instruments of torture lay atop them.
As he scanned the area, a sudden surge of pain erupted in his chest, forcing his gaze downward.
He must have been shot from a distance with a shotgun. The scattered pellet wounds across his chest were proof enough.
Had the shot been fired from any closer range, his soul would have found itself instantly in the deepest pits of Hell. But demonic blood—at least partially—flowed through his veins. Because of that, a wound like this was not fatal to him, unlike it would have been for an ordinary human.
That did not mean he was spared pain.
On the contrary, he was struggling against agony that bordered on unbearable.
At that moment, he heard a sound coming from the dark corridor ahead.
Footsteps echoed against the hollow cave walls.
Zach immediately closed his eyes.
He continued to pretend he was unconscious.
Soon, two men dressed in black robes entered the chamber. One carried a curved dagger in his hand, while the other held a wooden container.
They approached him with slow, deliberate steps.
One of the robed men used the dagger to make a small but deep cut in Zach's body.
Zach forced himself to endure the pain. If he reacted, he would soon feel that blade in his heart. So he pushed himself further, maintaining the act of unconsciousness.
The other robed man collected the blood flowing from the wound into the container he was holding.
"This should be enough for now," one of them said.
"It will satisfy our master until the time of the ritual."
Zach overheard their conversation.
After the two men disappeared once more into the shadows of the corridor they had come from, he opened his eyes.
It was time to get out of here.
What was happening in this place was far more vile than he had anticipated.
Gripping the chains hanging from the ceiling with both hands, he began to climb upward.
He planted his feet against the ceiling, hanging upside down, and pulled downward with all his strength.
He intended to tear the chains free from their anchor points.
Under normal circumstances, this would have been child's play for him. But in his wounded state, his strength was far from its peak.
After several attempts, a sound echoed through the cave.
CLANG!
He had finally succeeded.
Still bound by the chains, he fell backward from nearly two meters above the ground, landing flat on his back.
The impact knocked the breath from his lungs, but he quickly recovered and forced himself to his feet.
He had to hurry. The noise had been loud—too loud. The robed men from before might return at any moment.
As his eyes swept rapidly across the cave, he noticed a key hanging on the wall.
He rushed toward it, grabbed the keys, and unlocked his shackles.
Just then, footsteps echoed from the dark corridor.
He immediately slipped into the shadows.
Moments later, two more robed men entered the chamber. They were different from the previous ones—he could tell from their conversation.
Zach burst from his hiding place and lunged forward.
He attacked from behind without warning.
He drove a powerful kick into one man's waist. The robed man slammed face-first into the ground.
As the second man turned around in confusion, Zach smashed his fist into his face.
CRACK!
The robed man collapsed instantly, losing consciousness. The sound of a shattered cheekbone echoed through the cave.
The man who had been kicked was writhing on the ground in agony. Several of his vertebrae were likely broken.
Zach grabbed him by the collar and lifted him into the air.
"Where am I?" he demanded.
"Where are my friends?"
The man did not respond.
Zach slapped him hard.
The sound reverberated off the cave walls.
He asked again, his voice far more threatening this time.
"TELL ME WHERE MY FRIENDS ARE—NOW!"
Still no answer.
Just as Zach raised his hand to strike again, he heard a shrill scream.
It was painfully familiar.
It was Eldon's voice.
Zach punched the man he was holding, knocking him unconscious, and immediately sprinted toward the sound.
He plunged deeper into the shadowed corridor.
Light spilling into the passage caught his attention.
He had reached another chamber.
Two robed men were doing to Eldon exactly what they had done to Zach only minutes earlier—draining his blood.
Zach didn't hesitate for even a second.
He charged forward.
WHAM!
Before the men could understand what was happening, both were knocked to the ground.
Zach quickly unlocked Eldon's shackles.
Eldon looked at him through half-lidded, dazed eyes.
"Behind you!"
Zach barely had time to turn his head before he felt someone grab him from behind.
He was slammed into the ground twice and sent flying backward.
Groaning in pain, he lifted his head.
A massive robed man stood before him—nearly two meters tall, broad-shouldered, and imposing.
Zach forced himself up and charged forward, driving a punch straight into the man's abdomen.
It had no effect.
Shock flickered across Zach's face.
He was wounded—he knew that—but no ordinary human should have been able to withstand his blows.
The man grabbed Zach by the shoulder with one hand, lifted him effortlessly, and hurled him into the wall.
CRUNCH!
The sound echoed throughout the chamber.
One or two of Zach's ribs were probably broken.
A scream of pain tore from his throat.
He could barely open his eyes through the agony.
Hearing footsteps approaching, he forced himself to move.
He dodged to the side just before the man could grab him again.
Snatching a wooden chair leaning against the wall, Zach hurled it at the robed man.
The chair slammed into the man's face.
It worked.
The man staggered backward several steps.
Zach didn't waste the opening.
He lunged forward and delivered a brutal kick to the man's kneecap.
The man dropped to one knee.
This was the moment Zach had been waiting for.
He began raining punches down on the man's face mercilessly.
During the barrage, the man found an opening.
Grabbing Zach by the chest, he flung him aside.
This time, Zach was ready.
He maintained his balance mid-air and landed cleanly.
As he prepared to charge again, something stirred within him—an anger rising from the darkest depths of his soul, triggered by the fallen robe at the man's feet.
The man's face was deformed, his eyes glowing crimson.
"DEMON-BLOOD USER!" Zach shouted in fury.
"What kind of idiocy drives you to accept a demon's offer and become its disciple?!"
Demon-blood users were, as the name implied, humans granted access to certain privileges of demonic blood.
There was only one way to obtain such power: to become a demon's disciple and surrender one's soul.
The price was devastating.
The person slowly lost their sanity, descending into madness. Eventually, they ceased to be human at all, becoming nothing more than a puppet of the demon they served.
For Zach—who hated demons with every fiber of his being—such a choice was unforgivable.
All the rage and hatred that had accumulated within him over a lifetime surged to the surface.
He looked at the man before him with the same chilling smile that always appeared when he was about to kill a demon.
The man charged at him.
Zach did not move an inch.
The man threw a punch. It was powerful—but slow.
Zach dodged it effortlessly, stepped back, and drove another kick into the man's kneecap with all his strength.
CRACK!
The sound was unmistakable.
The man let out a deep, guttural scream.
Within seconds, his kneecap had shattered completely.
As the robe fell away, revealing the truth, the last restraints on Zach's fury snapped.
Perhaps the only reason he had shown restraint until now was the lingering belief that the man before him was still human.
That illusion was gone.
The thing in front of him was no longer a human being.
In Zach's eyes, there was no difference between this creature and a demon.
The rage buried deep within his soul broke free and set his entire being ablaze.
The man staggered backward and fell to his knees, his back turned.
Zach didn't stop.
He grabbed a jagged piece of the broken chair from the floor and drove it into the man's shoulder.
The man swung a blind punch backward in an attempt to drive him away. Zach managed to block it, but the impact sent him skidding aside.
With a roar filled with fury, the man struggled back to his feet.
Zach had been waiting for this.
He lunged forward and wrapped his arms around the man's remaining leg, lifting with all his strength and slamming him backward to the ground.
Zach mounted him and began smashing a stone into his face repeatedly.
With each strike, he felt the warmth of blood splashing across his skin.
The man managed to grab Zach again—but this time, Zach was faster.
He twisted the man's arm into a lock and forced him onto his side.
"Eldon!" Zach shouted.
Eldon appeared instantly, the metal shackles still clutched in his hands, and began striking the man's head over and over.
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Zach lay on the ground for a while, struggling to catch his breath.
With Eldon's help, he eventually stood up.
Eldon supported him, slipping an arm around his shoulder as they began to walk.
Before leaving the chamber, Zach turned his head one last time, glaring over his shoulder at the man whose skull had been crushed beyond recognition.
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When they emerged from the cave, pale moonlight greeted them.
They could see the faint glow of village lights through the trees.
They were at the entrance of a cave at the foot of a mountain near the village.
They continued onward together, searching for a place to take shelter.
Eventually, they found an old, abandoned cabin deep in the forest and went inside.
As Eldon tended to Zach's wounds, Zach asked:
"What happened after I passed out? Where are the others?"
An uneasy expression crossed Eldon's face.
"We were suddenly surrounded by the robed men you saw in the cave. You and I were at the front, so we were captured. The others must have managed to escape."
"Must have?"
The uncertainty in Eldon's words unsettled Zach.
"They rushed us all at once. I couldn't see anything."
Zach wasn't satisfied with the answers.
Something was deeply wrong.
As the two discussed what they should do next, a sound came from the cabin door.
Both of them sprang to their feet at the same time.
Whatever entered through that door—
They would have to kill it.
Otherwise, the ones who would die—
Would be them.