The Devourer's Rampage

The villagers tried to flee, but Linfer pursued them mercilessly. He tore open the doors of the houses, dragging out the women and the elderly to massacre them. He grabbed a woman by the throat and lifted her, squeezing until her bones cracked, while her face turned blue under the pressure. Her body fell, limp and lifeless, into the growing pool of blood.

Linfer advanced, a true living nightmare. Every village, every fortress, every major city that had the misfortune of crossing his path was reduced to a pile of ruins and mutilated bodies. Wherever his shadow fell, life itself seemed to be torn from this world.

The destruction reached its peak, screams of agony echoed endlessly, forming a terrifying cacophony that resonated in the streets. Blood flowed so abundantly that it began to flood the streets, the earth unable to absorb it. It flowed like a torrent, staining every stone, every wall, with a deep red. Unable to use mana, he had relied on his physical strength for his pleasure.

"He he he."

Linfer, at the heart of this carnage, laughed. A demented, uncontrollable laugh. He knelt down several times, plunging his hand into the pools of blood to bring it to his lips. He drank with a sickening greed, like a man who had not tasted water in centuries. The blood of mortals, or the nearby Southern Elysians, flowed down his chin, dripped onto his chest, and he savored it, relishing every drop.

The more he killed, the more he drank, and his thirst seemed unquenchable. Bodies piled up, torn limbs floated on the surface of the rising blood, and soon, a scarlet sea extended for twenty kilometers around him. The viscous liquid now reached his thighs. Bodies, whole or shredded, floated in this sea of blood, some still vaguely conscious, their eyes open, unable to scream, but silent witnesses to the horror.

"Look!" he shouted at the floating bodies. "Where are you? Show yourselves!"

In this morbid sea, Linfer stood, triumphant. His laughter echoed again and again, cutting through the silence of the surrounding death. His eyes burned with an inhuman madness, and he raised his arms to the sky, as if he were saluting this red sea as his own kingdom.

Linfer had always killed with a purpose in mind. Every massacre, every mutilated body served a cause: creating new Wendigos, eradicating his enemies, or sowing terror. There was a logic behind his carnage, however perverse it may be. His actions, though bloody, answered a strategy. The pleasure he took in killing was just a bonus, an extra flavor in the chaos he unleashed.

But this time, something had changed. As he stood amidst the torn bodies, with blood soaking every inch of earth beneath his feet, a new feeling had awakened within him. It was no longer pleasure. No, pleasure had been overshadowed by something darker, more primitive. It was no longer hatred, vengeance, or a simple desire for domination. Linfer had surrendered to his most primal instinct: the need to devour.

He had reached the pinnacle of understanding of *Devour*, and thus of himself.

*Ba-Doom*

He staggered, his inert heart, chained to his chest, starting to beat again.

*Ba-Doom*

The necklace around his neck began to glow.

*Ba-Doom*

He clutched his chest, overcome by intense pain. His heart had never beaten so violently. A growl escaped his lips as a tearing agony emanated from his soul.

*Ba-Doom*

In his heart, the chain cracked.

*Ba-Doom*

He collapsed to his knees, his head thrown back, his eyes rolled back, blood flowing from every orifice.

*Ba-Doom*

The sound resonated with such force that ripples formed around him in the sea of blood.

*Ba-Doom*

The blood boiled more and more, transforming into a vortex. He was at its center, while his silhouette was submerged in a crimson blend...

***

In the vast manor of Iustitia, more precisely in an office with walls adorned with maps and manuscripts, a young man in golden armor sat behind a massive oak desk. His sparkling armor contrasted with the austerity of the place, he had short green hair, and piercing red eyes. With a closed face, he worked tirelessly, absorbed in reports on food rations, troop maintenance, and news of the war in the South. This young man was none other than Celest Jr., a prominent figure in the kingdom, just after Uriel. Even some angels bowed to his authority.

As he was immersed in his files, a soft *knock knock* sounded at the door.

"Come in!" he called out without raising his eyes.

A young Elysian entered, slightly bowing. The dark expression on his face betrayed the urgency of the situation.

"Sire Celest, the situation is dire!"

Celest raised his head, his glowing red eyes scanning his interlocutor. "What is it?"

"About 24 kilometers from the border with Alderbaran have been completely destroyed."

Celest narrowed his eyes. "So, Alderbaran has finally decided to act?"

"We cannot confirm it, no one has been able to provide any information on what is happening over there."

Celest leaped to his feet. "Well, I will go there myself, after reporting to Archangel Uriel."

Without losing a second, he grabbed his cape and left the office in long strides, heading towards Uriel's residence. He found him easily, the archangel was peacefully watering his indoor garden, surrounded by plants.

"Master! Alderbaran has started to move. Give me permission, and I will lead an offensive without delay!"

Uriel, without interrupting his gesture, replied calmly: "Ah... You're still as impetuous, Celest. You remind me a bit of your mother."

He carefully observed a flower before adding: "If it's her, then it's not your fight."

Celest, disconcerted, opened his mouth to reply, but he was suddenly distracted by a strange phenomenon. The sky suddenly darkened, as if covered by a veil of dark mist.

Uriel's eyebrows furrowed as a red moon suddenly appeared in the sky. Then, the rain began to fall, a rain of blood.

"What does this mean, Master?" Celest asked, worried.

"It's not Alderbaran," Uriel replied in a grave voice.

"So... who?" Celest insisted.

Uriel remained silent for a moment. He felt a force, a law emanating not from a person, but from the world itself. He knew this sensation.

"Ahskharsh..." he murmured, swallowing at the thought of what it implied.

Celest looked at him, troubled. "Who could possibly use such a disturbing technique?"

Uriel, after a long hesitation, turned to Celest, his gaze filled with gravity. "Celest, listen to me carefully. Call Luciel, Tzakiel, Raphaël, and Morael immediately. Propose a truce to the demons, and mobilize the army. As for me, I will request an audience with my uncle to obtain the support of his army."

Celest nodded, still perplexed. "Why all this, Master?"

Uriel hesitated one last time before murmuring, almost reluctantly: "I'm afraid your father is back..."