Anger!

Deep within the shadows of the cave, Luther crouched low behind a jagged rock, activating his cloaking blur to melt into the darkness. Every sound was muted, every movement slow and calculated. He squinted, his gaze locked on a smaller chamber just to his left, where the strange, unsettling scene unfolded.

In that chamber, green grass mats were spread flat across the stone floor. On these mats, a group of human women, cloaked in black robes, tended to young creatures with the heads of fish and the bodies resembling twisted versions of merfolk. These beings; whom Luther had nicknamed "murlocs" for lack of an official name, were grotesque yet fascinating, their fish-like eyes bulging, their slimy skin glistening in the dim light of the cave.

The women worked with downcast faces, their expressions hidden. Their movements were mechanical, almost lifeless, as if performing some twisted ritual of nurturing. But it wasn't the women who caught Luther's attention as much as the creatures around them; adult murlocs with green, scaled skin. These fish-like beings encircled the women, their expressions twisted into unsettling grins. Their bulbous eyes rolled greedily, filled with a disturbing blend of arrogance and glee.

Luther's jaw tightened, but he forced himself to stay hidden. He had learned, through patient observation, that this cave was more than just a hideout. It was a fortified outpost, with several concealed passages and strategic monitoring points. In one shadowed nook, he had spotted a blue-skinned murloc keeping watch, a sign of the intelligence and caution these creatures possessed. This wasn't like the reckless raids he had pulled off at the villa. Here, he needed to be more meticulous, more restrained.

Luther suspected that the women on the mats were a lure, a trap carefully laid out to provoke any would-be rescuers. Perhaps even the bald, middle-aged man he had seen earlier was nothing but a puppet, someone they could manipulate to help infiltrate the human world. It was all conjecture, but Luther had learned to trust his instincts. Evidence would come later; for now, patience was his ally.

Time dragged on, each second a weight pressing on his shoulders. Finally, a ripple of movement broke the stillness. A blue-skinned murloc emerged from a side passage, chattering something incomprehensible to the group of green-skinned murlocs. Disappointment flickered across their faces as they grumbled and shuffled about. Moments later, they herded the women away, leaving only one green-skinned murloc to guard the area, its eyes sweeping lazily over the chamber.

Luther's pulse quickened. This was the break he'd been waiting for, but he held back, observing carefully. He noticed another detail: the two blue-skinned murlocs who had been monitoring a hidden position on the right wall had vanished. The trap had weakened.

Steeling himself, Luther drew the dagger from his belt, its blade glinting briefly in the faint light. Hugging the wall, he crept forward, moving as silently as a shadow. The murloc's eyesight seemed poor, relying more on sound than sight to detect intruders. Luther approached slowly, positioning himself just a few feet from the creature, hidden in the darkness.

With a silent breath, he picked up a small stone and tossed it near the murloc's webbed feet. The stone clattered softly, rolling across the ground. The murloc's head snapped down instinctively, eyes narrowing at the unexpected noise. That was all Luther needed.

In a flash, he surged forward, moving like a predator honing in on its prey. He launched from the shadows, dagger poised, and struck with precision. The blade plunged into the murloc's neck, severing scales and flesh in a swift, deadly arc. He stabbed three more times in quick succession, each strike deliberate, until he found a vein pulsing with dark, blackish blood. The murloc convulsed as Luther cut deep, its life ebbing from its body.

As it thrashed in a final, futile struggle, Luther clamped his left hand over its mouth, using his full weight to keep it from crying out. Slowly, the creature's spasms ceased, its scaled body falling limp in his grasp. With practiced efficiency, Luther dragged the corpse into a shadowed alcove, concealing it from prying eyes.

Satisfied, he took a steadying breath, activating his blur once more. Blending seamlessly into the darkness, he slipped into the passageway beyond, each step silent, his senses sharpened.

Ahead, he could hear faint sounds; a low, rhythmic hum that grew louder as he advanced. A damp, earthy smell filled the air, mingling with the faint odor of salt and decay. Rounding a bend, Luther finally glimpsed the source of the noise: a large underground pond, shimmering under faint bioluminescent fungi clinging to the cavern walls.

In the dim light, he saw them, scores of murlocs, both green and blue-skinned, gathered around the pond in a frenzied, chaotic dance. Some chanted in guttural voices, others splashed water with their webbed hands, their eyes gleaming with a wild, primal fervor. It was a disturbing sight, a grotesque carnival of creatures lost in some alien ritual.

Luther's grip tightened on his dagger. This was no ordinary gathering. Whatever this ceremony was, it reeked of dark intent. Luther stood in the shadows, his face dark and expression twisted with barely contained fury. He had suspected the reason behind the fishmen's prolific breeding, but witnessing it firsthand was a different reality, one that made his blood boil.

"How dare they…" he hissed, his voice barely a whisper, thick with rage. His fists clenched as he looked upon the gaunt, emaciated human women, forced into unimaginable servitude by these monstrous creatures. Each frail figure moved with hollow, mechanical motions, stripped of humanity and hope. His anger swelled, a relentless storm within.

The murlocs, oblivious to the raw fury lurking in the shadows, continued their depraved rituals, their bulging eyes glazed with casual indifference. The stench of decay hung heavy in the damp air, a sickening mix of salt, rot, and suffering.

Then he saw it; a woman, frail and shaking, her neck twisted by the careless, chaotic hand of a fishman. Something within Luther snapped, a fragile tether of restraint finally breaking. His vision reddened, and an eerie glow flickered in his eyes, an instinct buried deep within him tearing through the confines of his reason. The control he had maintained for so long shattered, overtaken by a primal, predatory rage.

Without a word, Luther stepped out of the shadows, his form coalescing into view. The cavern fell into a hushed silence as every fishman and human turned to look at him.

"Human!" one of the fishmen snarled, its voice filled with a mix of surprise and amusement.

"A little snack has wandered into our den!" another sneered, its grotesque mouth twisting into a wicked grin.

"Look at the hood, can't even tell if it's male or female!" mocked another, laughing as though this intruder was nothing more than an insect to be crushed.

The women's eyes, hollow and unseeing, slowly lifted, focusing on this unexpected figure. One by one, realization dawned upon them, and for the first time in who knows how long, tears began to flow down their filthy, worn faces. Silent streams cut through layers of grime, leaving clean trails as they watched this solitary figure advance.

But Luther saw none of it. His gaze was locked on the lifeless form of the woman with the broken neck, discarded like trash. His focus was a cold, deadly line as he walked forward, each step measured, unstoppable.

"Haha! This one has some guts!" boomed a voice, as a towering, blue-skinned fishman nearly three meters tall emerged from the pond, casting the woman he'd been toying with aside like a rag. The creature's scales glistened as it stomped forward, blocking Luther's path with a menacing grin.

The other fishmen leaned back, sneering and chuckling, watching the scene unfold as if it were a performance crafted for their amusement.

"Hey, human," Dakarai, the giant fishman, sneered, taking a step closer, his thick, scaly leg stretched out toward Luther. "If you get down on your hands and knees and lick my toes until I'm pleased, maybe just maybe, I'll let you live."

Luther's body trembled, a dark energy rolling off him like waves. And then, in a blink, he was gone from view, moving faster than the fishmen could process. In the next instant, Dakarai's scream echoed through the cave, a piercing cry that sent shockwaves through his kin.

They looked down in horror to see Dakarai's leg, twisted and broken, the pale, sinewy joint exposed as muscle and bone jutted grotesquely from his blue-scaled flesh. The entire leg was bent backward, and Dakarai stumbled, wild eyes darting down in shock at his own mangled limb.

Luther finally looked up, his gaze meeting Dakarai's, his expression eerily calm, devoid of any trace of humanity. His eyes glinted with an unsettling, otherworldly indifference that sent a chill down the spines of every creature present.

"You…!" Dakarai, wild with pain and fury, roared, lunging forward, his mouth open wide as he aimed to tear into Luther's shoulder. The fishman's jagged teeth sank into Luther's flesh, and for a brief moment, Dakarai felt a surge of victory. He had drawn blood. His kin watched, enthralled, as he began to tear deeper, seeking to shred his opponent's body.

But then, Dakarai's satisfaction turned to terror. A firm hand gripped his head, fingers pressing into his skull with a force that felt like steel. Slowly, steadily, Luther began pushing Dakarai back, the grip tightening with an almost casual ease that belied a terrifying strength.

Dakarai's mind raced, desperate to reclaim control, his teeth sinking deeper in a last, futile effort to dominate this "weak" human. Yet his triumph was fleeting, as Luther remained utterly unperturbed, his head tilted, watching with a cold, calculating stare.

As Dakarai struggled, Luther's lips peeled back, revealing sharp, predatory teeth that glinted under the dim cave light. Without hesitation, Luther lunged forward, his mouth closing around Dakarai's throat, sinking his teeth deep into the fishman's scaly neck. Dakarai's bulging eyes widened, his scream choked as Luther's teeth tore into his flesh, the metallic taste of fishman blood flooding his mouth.

The other fishmen froze, their mocking expressions fading into sheer terror as they watched their leader, their towering, indomitable Dakarai, reduced to a prey in the jaws of this unassuming human. No one moved, too stunned and horrified to intervene as Luther pulled back, his mouth dripping with blood, a look of feral satisfaction etched into his face.

As Dakarai's lifeless body crumpled to the ground, Luther turned his gaze to the remaining fishmen, his eyes glowing with that same ominous scarlet gleam. Silence hung heavy in the air as the fishmen shrank back, the cavern suddenly feeling much smaller under the weight of his gaze.

One by one, the fishmen exchanged glances, their arrogance crumbling into fear as they realized that the predator they had so easily dismissed was something far more dangerous, far more deadly than they had imagined. The tables had turned, and they, the hunters, now found themselves trapped with a force they could neither understand nor escape.

Luther stepped forward, his form dark, unyielding, a shadow with crimson eyes and blood-stained teeth. The murlocs' pitiful attempts to save face evaporated as they realized the truth: they were no longer in control. And as Luther advanced, the fear in their eyes told him all he needed to know, they understood what was coming next.