Split Ways
The skull-faced monstrosity lunged, its roots lashing out like serpents, each one tipped with jagged thorns dripping venom. Menma didn't flinch.
*Demon Power: 10%.*
The dark aura coiled around him, tendrils of shadow licking at his limbs. His sword hummed, the runes along its length burning crimson as if thirsting for blood.
The creature's gaping maw—half human skull, half pulsating plant flesh—let out a guttural laugh, a sound like bones snapping under pressure.
Menma moved.
His blade carved through the air, severing the first vine before it could strike.
The second lashed at his side, but he twisted mid-air, letting it graze his ribs before countering with a downward slash. The steel bit deep into the creature's core, green ichor spraying in an arc.
The abomination shrieked, its flower-head convulsing. It staggered back, roots writhing as if in agony. Menma didn't give it time to recover.
"Teleportation Sword – Final Step."
In a blur, he vanished—reappearing behind the beast. His sword flashed once, twice, before he landed lightly on the cobblestones.
For a moment, the creature stood frozen. Then, with a wet, tearing sound, its body split apart, collapsing into a heap of twitching vines.
The skull embedded in its head rolled to Menma's feet, the green light in its eye sockets flickering out.
He exhaled, the dark aura receding. Around him, the remaining Nature Forms hesitated, their flower-heads twitching as if sensing their leader's demise.
But this wasn't over.
The stench of blood hung thick in the air.
A Nature Form crouched over the mangled remains of a woman, her right hand missing, her scalp stripped bare from the acidic secretions.
The creature gnawed lazily on her severed fingers, its maw dripping with viscous saliva.
Then—a noise.
A faint whimper, the creak of a floorboard.
The creature's head snapped up, petals quivering. It abandoned its meal, slithering toward the source of the sound.
Behind a shattered door, a boy—no older than ten—pressed himself into the shadows, his breath trapped in his lungs. His parents were already dead. His little sister… he hadn't found her yet.
The Nature Form drew closer, roots slithering across the blood-slick floor. The boy's heart hammered against his ribs.
Then—his foot slipped.
A crack. A broken toy beneath his shoe.
The creature froze. Then, with terrifying speed, it surged forward.
The boy stumbled back, tripping over something soft. He looked down.
His sister's lifeless eyes stared back at him.
A scream tore from his throat.
The Nature Form shrieked in response, its roots propelling it forward—
—only to meet steel.
Zayne's blade cleaved through its head before it could react. Acidic blood splattered the ground, hissing as it ate into the wood.
The boy collapsed, his vision swimming. The last thing he saw was Zayne's face, his lone visible eye sharp with something unreadable.
"I really want to know who scared you so much," Zayne muttered, shaking venom from his blade. "So I can kill him myself."
Then darkness swallowed the boy whole.
The girl from earlier—the one Zayne had saved first—was still crying when he returned, the unconscious boy slung over his shoulder. Her sobs hitched as she recognized him.
"T-Thomas…?" she whispered.
Zayne set the boy down, checking his pulse. Alive. Just shock.
The girl scrambled to Thomas' side, clutching his hand. "His sister… she—"
"I know," Zayne cut her off gently. "Stay here. Both of you."
"But—"
"Breathe. Don't move."
He didn't wait for a response. The screams outside hadn't stopped.
Zayne found the survivors cornered near the eastern square, a huddled mass of terrified villagers backed against a crumbling wall. Nature Forms closed in from all sides, their movements eerily synchronized.
No hesitation.
*Speed Creation – 30% Boost.*
The world blurred.
Zayne became a storm of lightning, his blade a silver streak in the dim light. One creature fell, then another, their heads rolling before their bodies realized they were dead.
"Run!" he barked at the villagers. "To the oak tree—now!"
They didn't need to be told twice.
Menma stood amidst a field of corpses, his sword dripping green. The last of the Nature Forms lay twitching at his feet, their flower-heads severed.
Zayne landed beside him, barely winded. "Civilians are secure."
Menma's grip tightened on his hilt. "How many dead?"
"Too many."
A muscle in Menma's jaw twitched. The dark aura around him flared.
He almost lost control of his dark powers
As the entire forest in which they were in,was blown back,as if a huge wind had blown through.
The remaining creatures—those still lurking in the shadows—shrieked, their roots recoiling as if burned.
As if they had seen this before...
Menma got his control back, and calmed down.
Zayne was looking at him, he didn't say anything but he was proud of Menma's
determination, and together they leaped not giving them a chance to flee.
By dawn, the town was silent.
The survivors—mostly children and a handful of wounded adults—huddled beneath the great oak where Zayne had hidden them.
The boy, Thomas, had woken, his hollow gaze fixed on the ground. The girl clung to him, her tears dried but her hands still shaking.
Zayne studied them for a long moment before turning to Menma. "I'll take them to my kingdom. They'll be safe there."
Menma nodded. "And then?"
"Then we finish this." Zayne's eye gleamed. "The Purgatorists might start moving . But so will we."
Menma sheathed his sword. "I'll meet you at the Witch Forest,don't be late for the festival!"
Zayne replied. "I won't miss your little tournament."
Menma started running...
No handshake. No farewell. Just a shared understanding.
While Zayne started gathering the survivors,explaining to them where they would go.
The were sad,and some started protesting,afterall this is where their loved ones had died, they demanded to at least bury their bodies,and Zayne agreed,even helping them.
Menma had left, the weight of the coming war settling on his shoulders.
The path ahead was drenched in blood.
And he was ready to walk it.
For the revenge of his loved ones!