The Return of the Devourer

The Return of the Devourer

In a vast expanse of black ashes, a rather peculiar silhouette could be seen moving swiftly. One of his hands, mutilated to the point of resembling an incomplete mass of flesh, hung at his side, but nothing could erase the diabolical smile that twisted his lips. Despite the sealing of his powers, he remained an Origin 7, a being whose strength surpassed that of mere mortals. With each step he took, a gaping crater was left behind, a sign of his imminent return.

With a leap, he covered dozens of kilometers, breaking the monotony of the ashes beneath his feet, heading towards the nearest city.

Barnsil, a fortified city on the border of the vast and unified Domain of Uriel, represented peace after the bloody era of the Wendigos. Uriel, the supreme ruler and undisputed master, had eradicated the threat and unified 3/5 of the continent. By his side, the Archangels Raphaël, Tzakiel, Morael, and especially Celest, the human prodigy whose exploits resonated as living legends. Under their rule, demons were kept at bay, and citizens slept in relative calm.

Jérôme, a young soldier in service to Uriel, patrolled the city walls daily. The son of a peasant whose lineage had been reduced to slavery by the Blood Devil, he still remembered the terrifying stories told by his grandfather. But today, thanks to Uriel and his angels, that terror seemed like a distant memory. He respected the Archangels, but his true role model was Celest, the young commander, born to an ordinary couple, who had been taken under Uriel's wing and was now capable of rivaling the angels.

As he patrolled as usual, a shockwave rocked the city. A sudden and brutal earthquake caused buildings to collapse. Panicked screams rose in the city. An object had crashed in the city center, forming a colossal crater.

Jérôme, reactive and faithful to his duty, ran towards the impact, accompanied by ten other soldiers. His affinity with the wind, combined with his Origin 2 level, allowed him to quickly cover the distance. When he reached the crater, what he saw petrified him. A man was sitting at the center, in a relaxed posture, his eyes closed. He seemed...

"You are on the territory of the Archangel of Justice! State your identity!" Jérôme shouted as he cautiously approached.

The man slowly opened his eyes, and a macabre smile distorted his features. "Bad news for you, guys. Linfer is back with a new alias."

Jérôme narrowed his eyes, perplexed and suspicious, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword. But before he could react, a horrible sound rang out. A sinister whistle.

*Ahhh...*

A scream of pain echoed from his left. In a split second, one of his comrades was suspended by his hair, his neck torn out, leaving a spray of blood painting the ground and the faces of the surrounding soldiers. Jérôme felt the warm blood splatter his face. An absolute coldness seized him as he saw Linfer bite into the gaping wound of his victim, drinking with monstrous pleasure.

"What... what is...?" Jérôme felt his legs weaken, paralyzed by a terror he had never known. Around him, the other soldiers were just as frozen, unable to move in the face of the absolute horror unfolding before them.

Linfer tilted his head back, laughing with a demented cackle, as the lifeless body of his victim fell to the ground like a disarticulated doll. "Damn, I missed that flavor!"

Horror gave way to rage in Jérôme. Clenching his teeth and his sword, he lunged at Linfer with all his might. "Bastard!"

But before he could even reach his opponent, Linfer's voice echoed again, icy and amused. "Don't be so eager to die. Death? There will be enough for everyone."

A whistle cut through the air, and before Jérôme could understand what was happening, his vision blurred. The last memory he had was of the ground approaching at a blinding speed, followed by eternal darkness.

...

His clawed hand dug into the chest of a soldier, tearing out his still-beating heart. He brought the piece of flesh to his lips, the blood dripping down his chin, as the lifeless body collapsed at his feet.

He grabbed the head of another guard. With brute force, he crushed it like a ripe fruit, pulverizing the bones and causing the skull to explode in a spray of brains. The cranial fragments fell softly to the ground. Linfer turned his head towards another group that was desperately trying to flee.

He leaped forward, catching up with the men in a few bounds. With a fluid gesture, he sliced off the head of one of them, the blood spraying in a red arc that splattered the cobblestones. He grabbed another soldier by the leg and lifted him like a doll, spinning him violently in the air before smashing him against a wall, breaking his body in a terrifying crack.

"Yes, that's it, scream! Cry out for your savior! That bastard Uriel! And TELL HIM I'M BACK!"

Linfer delighted in the terror he inspired. His victims screamed, but no cry was loud enough to stop him. He took pleasure in seeing them crawl, begging for their lives, before crushing them like insects. Those he didn't kill instantly were mutilated, left for dead in pools of their own blood.

He loved to see them suffer. He often leaned over them, savoring their last moments, before sinking his fangs into their flesh, greedily drinking their blood. Each sip was a delicious nectar that fueled his madness. The warm liquid ran down his neck, soaking his already tattered clothes.

Linfer had left no fortress intact and had now turned his attention to the small villages around.

He arrived at dusk, and the first man he encountered was torn in two, his entrails spreading across the muddy ground. The children who were playing in the alleys were impaled on his claws, and he left them to agonize, their screams piercing the night.