The Great Massacre: Part One

Sunlight grazes my skin, not one, but two suns, gleaming above as the steel box lowers into the earth.

In front of me, a spear hangs suspended from a metal frame. Its shaft is wrapped in dark red leather where my hands are meant to grip, and strange markings run down its black surface — carved deep, like they've always been there. Like they were meant for me.

In this moment, it's like time has stopped. It's just me and the weapon. Almost as if it's fate. Like it's staring at me. Deeply. Motherly.

My hand trembles, my heart racing like it has been since I woke up. I reach forward and slowly grab the spear. As my fingers wrap around the leather, the metal frame sinks into the ground, just like the steel prison that brought me here.

I was so entranced by the weapon that I failed to fully comprehend the situation I've been placed in. My head jerks around, snapping in every direction.

"What is this!?"

"AHHH!"

Voices rise around me — screams, shouting. Confusion. The scent of flesh clings to the air, hot and overwhelming.

Surrounding me are creatures. Hairy humanoids. People with long ears. Giants…?

I look up, and towering over the crowd is a one-eyed figure, at least twelve, to maybe sixteen feet tall. He moves sluggishly, dazed, rubbing his massive arms like he's cold. A sword — enormous and dull, hangs from a metal frame just like mine.

To my right, I spot a winged woman crawling on the ground.

"Uahh."

I wince. I reach my hand out and say,

"Stand up. This isn't the time for this."

But she won't take it. She looks at me and tilts her head, confused. No… not confused. Empty. She doesn't even understand.

This has to be what they meant by a Hollow.

Time accelerates.

People begin shoving. Bodies slam into me. I stumble, caught in the surge. Panic grips my chest, but I manage to stay upright. I try to keep my eyes on the girl, but I'm getting bounced around like a pinball.

"UAHH! UAHH!"

Her cries grow more frantic as people stomp her legs and chest. I hear one of her wings snap back violently, until she vanishes under the crowd. I try to make my way toward her, but it's useless. I push, I scream, I claw through the mass, but I'm barely able to move.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"EVERYBODY!"

A towering werewolf, fur black as coal, easily eight feet tall roars above the chaos. His voice booming. Everyone in the area turns to look. Including me. For a moment, it pulls me from the horror of the winged woman.

"THIS IS HELL! A DETRIMENTAL SITUATION WE'VE BEEN PLACED INTO — BUT DOESN'T YOUR HEART RACE?! THE FACT THAT WE AREN'T GOVERNED BY RULES?!"

He grabs his axe from its rack and raises it high over his head in a chant-like motion.

"What the hell is he saying?"

"I don't like this…"

People exchange uneasy glances. Some tremble. Others smile and raise their weapons, mimicking him.

"NOW WATCH."

He marches forward, slow, deliberate.

Then, with a mighty swing, he brings the axe down on a nearby soul. The blade cleaves through the man's shoulder, down past the chest, nearly splitting him in two.

My breath hitches. My eyes widen. My stomach churns. I want to puke. I want to look away. I want to run. I want to hide.

The corpse collapses like meat.

And this act… was not the end. It was the beginning.

In a single moment, the floodgates break.

A massacre erupts.

People lash out, raising their weapons — stabbing, slashing, choking, biting. Any form of defense. Or offense. Desperation and bloodlust swirl together.

Thousands now surround me in carnage.

Not all fight. Some collapse into the dirt, weeping, paralyzed. Trapped in their own heads.

I don't know what to do.

I grip my spear tighter, pressing it against my chest. The crowd has shifted, given a bit more space to move, but I have no choice but to duck and sidestep the chaos. I'm shoved again. And again.

"RAHH!!"

A deep, pained roar explodes behind me, sharp enough to split an eardrum.

It's the giant. Three people are clinging to his legs, stabbing and stabbing, tearing through his calves. He flails his sword like a child swinging wildly, killing dozens by accident.

"GET OFF OF ME! STOP!"

he screams, panicked, confused.

But they keep going. More pile on like it's a game. Like leeches. It's… brutal. Visceral. His howls dig into me — does he really deserve this?

Then he falls.

His massive body crashes down, crushing a few beneath him. And they still don't stop, now tearing into his torso, his throat, his face.

Blood gurgles in his mouth as he tries to scream for life. But it won't come.

Since he's so large… it takes a long time.

He suffers.

Why are they so cruel?

I stand frozen, gripping my spear like a lifeline. My fingers twitch with anxiety, tapping its shaft again and again.

I don't even realize that same werewolf is closing in. On..me? He's walking straight toward me, eyes locked on mine. Cutting down everyone in his path. His axe drips red. His teeth are coated in flesh. Shreds of skin hang from his muzzle like string.

I back into a crowd of people, all just as lost and terrified. I'm shoved again into a clearing. And in that moment, it's just him and me.

He twirls his axe. Blood spatters his fur. His tongue slides across sharp, gore-covered fangs.

I can't—I can't—I can't—I can't.

I hate this

He stops in front of me, looming, and unblinking. Then says,

"Horned one."