Chapter 04: Feast of the Damned

Two figures pressed their backs against the obsidian wall of the passage, their postures a silent defiance as they faced an expectant throng. 

Among the onlookers, some regarded one figure with quiet admiration, while others burned with resentment toward the other. Every seething, accusatory gaze converged on one man—Riven.

Riven felt those eyes like flames, each stare a silent indictment. 

He was painfully aware that he had never actually read the so-called novel—even though, in truth, it was nothing more than a game masquerading as a novel. 

Yet he dared not reveal that Roy had deceived them all; with no ally in sight and everyone placing their faith in Roy, he simply kept his head bowed, silently affirming their belief that he was well-versed in the tale.

'Stop looking at me like that,' he thought bitterly, his fingers twitching with repressed indignation.

Despite being the tallest among them, with an imposing 6'2" stature, the relentless weight of those piercing eyes struck him like a barrage of daggers, making him stagger as if burdened by a guilt too heavy to bear.

"You bastard!" The irate man bellowed, his voice thick with venom. 

"How can you let a kid handle this on his own? Aren't you ashamed?"

Riven's jaw tightened at the outburst; the words sank deeper than they should have. 

'You? Calling me out?' 

His mind seethed with unspoken retorts, but he swallowed them down. It simply wasn't worth the escalation.

The accusations flowed in torrents: 

"Yes! Yes! You wanted all of us to die while you planned to escape alone, didn't you?" 

'Yes, I did. So what?!' he snapped silently. 

"You piece of shit! How can you call yourself a man when you cower in the back?" 

'Then if you're a real man, why are you standing next to me, you bastard?!'

Like the first tremors of an impending storm, their collective fury began to cascade over him. 

Despite his hardened exterior, each cutting remark chipped away at his resolve, and his body trembled under the assault on his pride.

Before the maelstrom of voices could overwhelm him completely, Roy stepped forward—a figure emerging like a knight from a long-forgotten legend. His tone was measured yet unyielding: 

"Sir, madam—this gentleman is just like us. He is afraid too, or perhaps he didn't fully realize he's in the novel until I pointed it out, as I recently recalled. Let's not be too harsh."

'This bastard! Don't pretend this isn't your fault!' 

Riven seethed silently as Roy's eyes briefly met his. With a cool, dismissive air, Roy added, 

"He'll apologize, naturally."

A heavy silence fell, every gaze locking onto Riven. His teeth ground together, his fists curled until his nails dug into his skin. With all the dignity he could salvage, he lowered his head and murmured, 

"I'm sorry."

As he bowed, he caught a glimpse of Roy striding away, utterly indifferent to the display of submission. With a sardonic lilt that cut through the tension, Roy called out without turning: 

"Stand up. We don't have all day to dwell on useless things. Let's address the real issue, shall we?"

Riven's mind went blank at Roy's derision, wiped clean like a slate. Yet amid the emptiness, one name seared itself into place. 

*Roy.*

Straightening abruptly, rage flared in his eyes as his fists balled, ready to strike back.

But before he could act, a low, menacing growl rumbled from the darkness behind him.

Riven's gaze snapped around—only to freeze as searing pain lanced his neck. Jagged teeth had sunk deep into his flesh. 

Short, powerful arms clutched him tight while razor-sharp nails raked across his chest, tearing at his skin. Clawed feet dug into his back, turning him into nothing more than a stepping stone. 

The brutal assault sent him sprawling face-first into the coarse sand, and his anguished cry echoed down the narrow passage as gritty particles filled his mouth.

In that horrifying moment, the furious shouts of the crowd transformed into gasps of terror. 

"What in the hell is that thing?!" someone shrieked, and panic rippled through the assembly as all eyes widened in disbelief.

Riven's blood pooled around him as he lay pinned, the creature's claws still embedded in his body. The beast thrashed wildly, struggling to break free even as its teeth continued to sink deeper. 

His cries of agony were drowned by the sickening symphony of ripping flesh and fracturing bone, punctuated by the creature's guttural gulping of his blood.

"Help me—AHHH!" Riven's voice faltered, growing fainter as life began to slip away.

Yet, no one moved. 

Not a single soul stirred. 

The assembly shrank back into the shadows, eyes wide, breaths held, praying the monstrous predator wouldn't turn its ravenous hunger upon them next.

As Riven's screams gradually faded into a despairing hush and his struggles weakened, his body teetered on the brink of surrender—while his mind, stubborn and fierce, clung to a final hope. 

With fading strength, he lifted his gaze in a desperate plea for salvation.

Then, amid the swirling chaos, something shifted.

Through a haze of pain and blurred vision, Riven caught sight of Roy—a sudden blur of motion. 

Brandishing a counterfeit katana high above his head, Roy moved with a precision born of desperation. 

Even as Riven felt the creature feasting on him, Roy brought the blade crashing down onto its head. The impact was so ferocious that the katana split in two, stunning the beast momentarily.

Seizing the fleeting opportunity, Roy delivered a forceful kick to the creature's skull, sending it reeling several feet back. 

In the ensuing pandemonium and the consuming darkness ahead, his keen eyes still managed to catch a small bone knife dangling from the creature's waist.

Without hesitation, he dashed forward. 

As the creature, frenzied and intent on finishing its grisly meal, stirred again, Roy struck its head with the shattered blade and then followed with another crushing kick that sent it sprawling onto its back.

With a swift, decisive motion, he wrenched the bone knife from the creature's grasp and slashed its throat. 

A jet of black blood erupted, splattering onto his scarlet shoes, as the creature writhed in agony before finally succumbing—its lifeless eyes staring blankly into the void.

In mere seconds, the horror had escalated to an unimaginable climax. 

Riven lay on the ground, barely clinging to life—his bleeding neck a brutal testament to his suffering, his mind flickering like a dying ember.

Then, as if drawn by fate, soft footsteps approached. 

Two steady hands brushed against his back, and in that instant, warmth flooded his body—as if a burst of sunlight had shattered the oppressive darkness. The searing pain ebbed away, and the jagged wound on his neck knit itself closed, erasing the evidence of his torment. 

Renewed strength surged through him.

Riven slowly forced himself upright, astonished by his miraculous recovery. Before him, the other survivors huddled against the wall—their faces frozen in a blend of horror and disbelief, their labored breaths barely sustaining them.

He exhaled shakily, wiping away the lingering blood from his neck. 

For a brief, disorienting moment, he almost felt… whole. 

But then, as his eyes drifted over the trembling faces around him—wide, unblinking, and staring past him—a chill of dread gripped his heart.

'Don't tell me the creature is alive.' 

He thought, dread coiling in his gut. Slowly—agonizingly slowly—he turned.

And in that moment, his blood ran cold.

There, in an act that defied every ounce of decency, Roy knelt beside the creature's shattered corpse. 

With deliberate, almost ritualistic intent, he manipulated creature's blade—the wet, sickening squelch of tearing flesh accompanied by the gleam of a weapon slicing through sinew. 

And with an eerie, almost serene expression, Roy lowered his jaw and bit into raw, quivering meat.

Roy was feasting on the flesh of the slain beast.