Out Of Control
Before he could continue, a violent force crashed into his face.
A sickening crack echoed through the forest as his entire body was sent flying, his form like a ragdoll caught in a storm. He slammed into a tree with bone-shattering impact, the force so overwhelming that he coughed up a mouthful of blood on the spot.
His vision blurred. His head spun.
But what truly made his breath hitch in sheer terror—
Was the realization that his defensive artifact had shattered.
A Grade-4 artifact, crushed instantly.
His trembling fingers reached for his chest, where a once-powerful protection spell had been inscribed. Now, there was nothing.
The moment he looked up, his breath caught in his throat.
Standing there, emerging from the shadows, was a figure.
Slow. Calculated. Silent.
The man's instincts screamed at him.
A monster.
No—worse.
Something that did not belong in the realm of men.
And then he saw them.
The eyes.
Two piercing orbs, brimming with nothing but sheer, unfiltered bloodlust.
A beast had descended upon him.
He tried to move. He couldn't. His body refused to respond, frozen in primal terror.
And then, the figure moved closer.
Step by step.
A presence so suffocating, so utterly monstrous, that the man could feel his own will collapsing beneath its weight.
The man wheezed, his body twitching as he tried to crawl away, fingers digging desperately into the dirt. Panic had fully set in.
Elyn didn't rush. He took his time, watching as the man squirmed, dragging his broken body inch by inch, blood smearing against the ground.
It was pathetic.
A second ago, this thing had held himself as a predator.
Now?
He was prey.
Elyn took a step forward.
The man flinched violently, his bloodshot eyes darting up, filled with sheer desperation.
"P—please," he wheezed, his voice barely a whisper. "I—I'll do anything, j-just—!"
CRACK.
A brutal backhand sent him sprawling to the side, his body rolling like a ragdoll across the ground.
"Anything?" Elyn murmured, his tone icy.
The man groaned, trying to lift himself up on shaking arms.
Elyn grabbed a fistful of his hair.
And yanked.
A pained scream tore from the man's throat as his scalp burned, strands ripping out by the roots, blood seeping from the torn patches of flesh.
Elyn didn't let go.
He dragged him by the hair, ignoring the shrieks, the pathetic struggling.
And then—
He slammed his face against a tree.
The sickening crunch of breaking cartilage echoed through the night as the man's nose exploded in blood, teeth cracking from the sheer force.
His body convulsed violently, but Elyn didn't stop.
Again—
BANG.
Again—
BANG.
Again—
BANG.
Each time, the man's cries grew weaker, his body barely able to react as his face was reduced to a pulped mess of broken bone and torn flesh.
When Elyn finally let go, the man collapsed onto his knees, his body trembling. His face was a ruined mess— his nose shattered, his lips split and swollen, blood gushing down his chin.
But he was still conscious.
That wouldn't do.
Elyn delivered a savage kick to his ribs.
A wet crunch filled the air as the man let out a strangled gurgle, his entire body jerking sideways from the force.
Another kick.
Then another.
Then another—until his ribcage bent inward, his screams turning to choked sobs.
But Elyn wasn't satisfied.
He crouched beside him, gripping the man's chin.
His face was swollen beyond recognition. His breath came in weak, wheezing gasps.
His eyes were barely open.
Too close to unconsciousness.
SLAP.
The impact jerked his head to the side, a fresh burst of blood spraying from his split lips.
"Stay awake," Elyn ordered.
SLAP.
The man let out a broken, whimpering sob.
"I said… stay awake."
SLAP.
His head lolled weakly, his breath hitching, his body twitching in terror.
But Elyn wasn't done.
Not yet.
With a sharp flick of his dagger, he sliced open the man's tattered clothes.
The fabric fell away, exposing his battered, bleeding form to the cold night air.
The man flinched violently, his body curling in on itself in shame.
Elyn merely tilted his head.
"What's wrong?" he mocked. "You don't like being helpless?"
A pause.
A slow, cruel smirk.
"Now you know how they felt."
And then—
Elyn grabbed his arm and twisted.
The bone didn't just break.
It shattered.
The sound was grotesque—like wet wood snapping apart, shards grinding against each other inside his flesh. His elbow bent the wrong way, jagged pieces tearing through skin.
His shrieks grew hoarse.
But Elyn wasn't done.
He grabbed the other arm—
SNAP.
The man choked, his screams turning into broken, gasping sobs. Both arms now hung uselessly at his sides, twisted at unnatural angles.
He wouldn't be crawling anymore.
But there was more work to be done.
The legs.
Elyn stomped on his knee.
Once.
Twice.
Then a third time—until the kneecap burst beneath his boot, completely crushed into shards.
Elyn moved to the other knee.
Another sickening CRACK.
Not yet.
His fingers wrapped around the man's jaw, forcing his mouth open, several teeth were already out.
A small, sharp twist with a pair of pliers, a little tug—
POP.
The scream was immediate, high-pitched and choked with blood.
Then the next.
POP.
And another.
POP.
One by one, Elyn ripped them out, some snapping at the root, others coming out clean. Blood dripped in thick gobs down the man's chin, mixing with saliva, pooling onto his chest.
His cries turned to weak, garbled whimpers.
But it wasn't enough.
Not yet.
Elyn reached into his coat and retrieved a vial of poison.
A special kind. One that didn't kill.
No, this one heightened pain.
Made wounds feel like they were being torn open all over again.
Made skin burn like fire.
Made the slightest touch feel like knives against raw flesh.
He uncorked the vial and poured it straight into the man's mouth.
The reaction was instant.
The man's entire body seized up, his veins bulging beneath his skin, his mouth opening in a silent scream as the burning agony took hold.
His nerves were being set ablaze from the inside.
His body twitched violently, trying to escape pain that couldn't be escaped.
And Elyn simply watched.
The poison had done its work.
The man lay motionless, his body twitching in helpless spasms. He had screamed himself hoarse—his voice was nothing but ragged, broken gasps.
His mouth was a ruined mess of blood and gaps where his teeth once were.
His limbs—mangled, useless, twisted at grotesque angles.
But his mind was still intact.
And that was the problem.
Elyn knelt beside him, pressing a firm hand against his shattered ribs, making him twitch in agony.
His voice was low, almost thoughtful.
"You know," he mused, tilting his head, "I've been thinking."
The man wheezed, his eyes wide with terror.
Elyn continued, his tone eerily calm.
"Someone like you… someone who enjoys taking what isn't theirs, enjoys breaking people just because you can—" He sighed. "I can't just let you go, can I?"
The man tried to shake his head, tried to beg, but the words wouldn't come.
He couldn't breathe. Couldn't think.
Elyn slowly lifted the pliers.
The man's body jerked violently, a fresh wave of panic flooding his bloodstained face.
And then—
The pliers latched onto something far more… sensitive.
The bandit's pupils shrunk to pinpricks.
He knew.
His face twisted in pure, mind-shattering horror.
His lips trembled, pleading without words.
But Elyn…
He smiled.
A slow, cold, terrifying smile.
And then—
He twisted.
A high, broken scream tore from the man's throat.
It was a sound no human should ever make.
Elyn didn't stop.
He pulled.
And then—
Ripped it away.
Blood sprayed, staining the ground, soaking into the dirt like an offering to the abyss.
The man convulsed violently, his body writhing, every nerve set alight in a storm of suffering beyond anything he had ever inflicted on another.
But Elyn wasn't done.
His eyes glowed with something almost inhuman as he reached back down.
With one last vicious yank, he ripped out the man's tongue.
The torn muscle gushed blood, the bandit making ghastly, gurgling sounds, trying to scream but failing.
Elyn watched as the life drained from his eyes.
But it wasn't enough.
It wasn't enough.
His hands trembled—not from exhaustion, but from the sheer rage still coursing through his veins. His mind was a storm, a black hole of hatred, disgust.
A creeping, whispering madness at the edges of his mind, telling him to keep going. To tear. To rip. To crush.
To enjoy it.
He had never felt like this before.
This pure, unfiltered bloodlust.
His vision blurred at the edges.
The world narrowed until all he could see was the blood, the ruin, the twitching pile of filth that still dared to breathe.
The night felt suffocating.
His body felt hot, heavy, drowning in something unexplainable.
Was this what true rage felt like?
Was this what it meant to be… consumed?
A part of him didn't want to stop.
A part of him wanted to see just how much further he could go.
How much pain a body could take before it truly shattered.
How much a soul could endure before it simply gave up.
His vision darkened further—
His hands twitched—
He reached for the broken man's arm, ready to tear it out of its socket —
And then—
A sound.
A whimper.
Small. Weak. Frightened.
The dark elf boy.
Still pinned to the tree.
Still forced to witness it all.
His body was shaking violently, his silver eyes locked onto Elyn—not with relief.
But with terror.
Elyn froze.
The storm in his mind halted.
Everything around him—the blood, the bodies, the night air thick with the stench of suffering—
It all came crashing down.
The reality of what he had just done.
The sheer brutality of it.
The way his gloves were still coated in warm, sticky blood.
He had lost himself.
He had let his emotions take over.
Elyn staggered back, his breath ragged.
His heart hammered in his chest, the adrenaline fading, replaced by something far worse.
Something colder.
He turned to the elf boy—his small, frail body still trembling, his wide, tear-filled eyes still locked onto him.
Elyn put him down from the tree.
His fingers trembled slightly as he retrieved a small vial from his coat.
A healing potion.
He held it out over his mouth to pour it in .
"Drink," he said, his voice hoarse.
The boy hesitated, he closed his lips tightly as he could.
He didn't trust him.
He feared him.
And for the first time in a long, long time—
Elyn felt something unfamiliar.
Shame.
He swallowed hard, forcing himself to calm down.
"You'll die if you don't."
Still, the elf hesitated, he kept his mouth shut.
Elyn sighed, popping the cork and gently pressing the vial to the boy's lips.
The child flinched.
But he drank.
Slowly. Weakly.
His wounds began to mend.
Elyn watched in silence, the weight of his actions crushing down on him like an avalanche.
He had done what was necessary.
But at what cost?