[The Carnival of Blood: The Art of Butchery]
A suffocating, heavy silence descended upon the battlefield, broken only by the morbid, rhythmic drip... drip... drip... of royal blood falling from Dan's blade to shatter against the unforgiving jagged rocks. He stood perfectly still amidst the butchered remains of the two decapitated elite guards. His broad shoulders trembled, not from exertion, but from the suppressed, guttural chuckles vibrating deep within his chest—a sound so deeply unnatural it seemed to freeze the very marrow in our bones.
Only two Asura guards remained. The legendary discipline that had been beaten into them since birth had completely evaporated. Through the narrow slits of their iron masks, I could see the whites of their eyes, wide and dilated with absolute, paralyzing terror. It was not the mere fear of death that gripped them; they were soldiers, they welcomed death. This was a primal, existential dread of the unfathomable thing standing before them.
Driven by a final, desperate surge of suicidal adrenaline, the two remaining giants roared and charged simultaneously, their great-swords raised for a synchronized execution. Dan didn't even flinch. He remained rooted to the spot, waiting with a terrifying stillness until the razor-sharp edges of their heavy blades were mere inches from severing his neck.
Then, with a velocity that my augmented Red Eye could barely process, Dan vanished.
He slipped beneath the lethal arc of their blades like a shadow. Before they could adjust their momentum, Dan's massive hands shot upward. His left hand clamped over the iron faceplate of the first guard, while his right gripped the helm of the second. With a sudden, explosive burst of raw, barbaric strength, he slammed their heads together.
The sickening CRUNCH of thick iron buckling and skulls instantly caving in echoed like a cannon shot. He didn't stop there. He threw their twitching, massive bodies to the dirt and descended upon them like a starving beast. With his bare, blood-soaked hands, he began to rip their master-crafted iron plating apart as if it were nothing more than wet parchment.
The guards began to scream. They were not the screams of hardened warriors; they were the high-pitched, agonizing shrieks of prey being eaten alive. Dan threw his head back and laughed—a sound of pure, terrifying ecstasy—as he meticulously, agonizingly slowly, began to tear their limbs from their sockets one by one. He savored every snap of bone, every tearing of sinew, drinking in their agony like fine wine. The desolate courtyard had been completely transformed into a macabre slaughterhouse, and Dan was the insatiable butcher presiding over the meat.
[Vincent: The Macabre Finale]
When the screaming finally stopped, Dan rose to his feet. He slowly turned his gaze toward Lord Vincent Vance.
The aristocratic, arrogant lord who had promised us a slow death just moments ago had collapsed onto his backside. He was frantically scrambling backward across the dirt and gore, his incredibly expensive snow-fox fur coat ruined, a dark, humiliating stain of urine spreading across his trousers.
"No... please... I beg of you! I will give you gold... I will give you everything! My lands, my wealth, take it all!" Vincent shrieked, his voice cracking into a pathetic, high-pitched whimper.
Dan pounced. He crossed the distance in a single leap, driving his knee into Vincent's chest and digging his thick, vice-like fingers into the lord's shoulder. With a casual squeeze, he shattered Vincent's collarbone into dust.
Dan then began to indulge in his favorite pastime: the exquisite psychological torture that precedes the physical. With surgical, cruel precision, he drew a small blade and severed Vincent's Achilles tendons, ensuring the prey could not even dream of crawling away. Then, he began to slowly, methodically slash shallow cuts across Vincent's tear-soaked face, leaning in close to whisper words into the lord's ear. We couldn't hear what demonic promises he was making, but whatever they were, they elicited a shriek from Vincent that seemed to tear the very sky open.
Finally, just before Vincent's heart could give out from the sheer shock, Dan executed his masterpiece. He drove his bloodied thumb deep into Vincent's left eye socket. With a wet, sickening pop, he gouged the eyeball out, keeping it tethered by the optic nerve.
Nero, unable to stomach the sheer depravity, turned aside and violently vomited. Dan, displaying a grotesque level of artistic dedication, pried open Vincent's agonizingly screaming mouth, shoved the severed eye deep past his teeth, and violently slammed his jaw shut. The sickening crunch of breaking teeth finalized the signature kill.
Dan stood up slowly, his face, hands, and clothes completely drenched in a fresh coat of crimson. He turned to us, flashing a wide, maniacal grin that stretched from ear to ear. "Oh... please, there's no need to thank me for the rescue. It was my absolute pleasure to vent a little pent-up frustration on this aristocratic filth."
[The Demonic Bargain: The Secret of Pure Blood]
Skyro, though visibly exhausted and battered, pushed himself up from the ruins. He calmly adjusted his cracked, blood-spattered glasses, maintaining an iron grip on his composure. "What is it that you want, Dan? Did you not acquire exactly what you sought at the underground auction? Is the 'Dragon's Heart' not currently in your possession?"
Dan chuckled, casually wiping a smear of blood from his forehead. "Oh, indeed... I have the Heart. It is beating furiously within its containment box as we speak. But there is a slight, annoying complication, Skyro... This specific Heart is incredibly demanding. It aggressively rejects hybrid, flawed vessels like me... and like you. I need a body that courses with absolute, unadulterated pure blood to implant the Heart and fully absorb its primordial power... And you and I both know exactly who possesses that specific bloodline within the walls of Draca."
A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the survivors. Skyro immediately understood the implication. Dan was targeting the Royal Family.
"So, what exactly do you want from us?" Skyro asked, his voice dripping with freezing apathy. "Do you expect my syndicate to hunt the royal family down and deliver them to your doorstep like cattle?"
"Oh, no... I appreciate your boundless generosity, but I wouldn't dream of exhausting you," Dan purred, taking slow, predatory steps toward us. "I am offering a far superior arrangement. An alliance. I will take the royal vessel and the pure blood I require. In exchange, you and your little syndicate will inherit the absolute power, the endless wealth, and the absolute authority that will tumble from King Baron's throne when I shatter it to pieces. Isn't that a flawless proposition? Everyone walks away wealthy from this little massacre."
Skyro stared at him for a long moment. Then, he spat a glob of bloody saliva onto the dirt and spoke with profound disgust. "To hell with you, Dan... Your offer reeks of rotting corpses."
Dan's entire demeanor shifted in a microsecond. The manic, theatrical amusement vanished, replaced by an empty, terrifying deadness in his eyes. The temperature in the clearing seemed to plummet. "So... you are refusing my generous hand, Skyro?"
[The Clash: Ray vs. The Devil]
In a fraction of a heartbeat, without any visible wind-up, Dan flicked his wrist. A small, blackened throwing knife rocketed toward the dead center of my face. Relying purely on my augmented reflexes, I snapped my head to the side at the absolute last millisecond. The blade grazed my cheek, leaving a thin, burning line of blood in its wake.
Before my brain could fully register the dodge, Dan was already upon me.
He didn't draw his sword. He attacked bare-handed. He twisted his hips and delivered a devastating, piston-like punch directly to my ribs. The kinetic impact was so catastrophic that I clearly heard the deafening crack of my ribs snapping inward, splintering bone into my chest cavity. I was launched backward, flying through the air, experiencing a blinding, suffocating agony I had never felt before.
But the moment I crashed into the dirt, the dark, parasitic energy of "Sin" surged through my veins, forcibly knitting the shattered bones back together in seconds.
I scrambled to my feet, gasping for air, just as Dan launched a second strike. I crossed my arms, blocking the heavy blow, and immediately countered, channeling all my strength into a sweeping kick to his abdomen. The impact forced Dan to slide a single step backward.
He stopped, lowering his arms, and looked at me with a deeply sick, ecstatic fascination.
"You... you actually took that hit and stood back up? How?" He began to laugh again, a deep, rumbling sound vibrating from the very bottom of his throat. "Oh, this is entertaining... this is incredibly entertaining!"
[The Dark State: Crimson Red]
I took a deep, shuddering breath. The blood was boiling in my veins, singing with the desire for absolute violence.
"I am done playing your sick games, Dan!" I roared.
My eyes flared, shifting from a glowing ruby to a suffocating, abyssal dark crimson. I forcefully channeled every ounce of Arthur's lingering hatred, every drop of King Baron's suffocating oppression, and poured it directly into the steel of my blade. The dark purple aura of "Sin" violently ignited, morphing into a bleeding, blinding crimson red. A thick, hellish aura erupted from the sword, completely enveloping my massive frame.
I exploded forward, moving at a speed that defied logic. Dan merely laughed harder. "You... you are just like him!!" he screamed in delight.
We clashed. It was a symphony of pure destruction. He met the razor-sharp, crimson edge of my cursed blade with nothing but his bare hands, which were now thickly coated in a terrifying, dense black energy that sparked and hissed upon impact. Every single time my sword collided with his fists, a devastating shockwave rippled outward, shattering the remaining stone pillars of the fortress and pulverizing the earth beneath our feet.
I slashed, thrust, and parried with a savage desperation, while he simply matched my every move, roaring over the deafening cacophony of our fight: "Finally! Finally, I have found something that makes my blood boil!"
In a split-second opening, I aggressively twisted my wrist, slipping past his guard, and smashed the heavy, iron pommel of "Sin" directly into his jaw. As his head snapped back, I followed through with a lightning-fast upward slash, managing to carve a shallow, bleeding gash across his shoulder.
Dan instantly halted. He stood completely still, the dark energy fading from his hands. He reached up, casually wiping a thin trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth. His expression shifted. The manic insanity faded, replaced by a look of genuine, dangerous admiration.
"You... you are truly strong..." he said, his voice surprisingly sincere as he panted slightly from the sheer ecstasy of the brief clash. "Join me, Behemoth. Stand by my side. We will tear this cursed kingdom down to its foundations, and we will burn their arrogant thrones together. If we merge our strength, there isn't a single entity in this universe that could stand in our way."
I glared at him, my chest heaving, the crimson flames of "Sin" still dancing hungrily along the blade. I looked at him with absolute, unfiltered contempt. "I would much rather embrace death than ever become a shadow to a devil like you."
Dan simply smiled, a cold, calculating curve of his lips. He turned his attention back to Skyro, who was watching the aftermath of the clash with bated breath. "You have acquired a truly magnificent trump card, Skyro... You chose exceptionally well."
Dan turned his back to us and casually strolled toward the shattered edge of the balcony, preparing to leap into the dense, swirling fog below. He paused right at the ledge, glancing over his shoulder.
"What is your name, Behemoth?" he asked.
"My name is Ray," I answered, my voice a dark, gravelly threat.
Dan let out one final, soft chuckle. He waved his hand with a friendly, casual demeanor, as if we were old drinking buddies departing a tavern. "Ray... a beautiful name. Now, listen to me very carefully, Ray. Do not allow yourself to die by the hands of the Asura guards, or by Baron's pathetic soldiers. I alone reserve the absolute right to kill you. I am the only one worthy of extinguishing that beautiful red light in your eyes. I will see you later, my friend."
With a sudden, powerful leap, Dan vanished into the abyssal depths of the fog in the blink of an eye, leaving nothing behind but the suffocating stench of butchered meat and a swarm of dark, venomous questions gnawing at the edges of my sanity.
I stood completely paralyzed, frozen in place. I slowly smothered the violent crimson glow of "Sin," allowing the cursed metal to cool in my grip. My eyes remained locked on the eerie, empty void Dan had left in his wake. Who was this lunatic? How could a mere mortal entity tame a power that so casually defied the very laws of logic and reason? But above all the fear and confusion, one horrifying question echoed endlessly in my mind... What did he mean when he said, "You are just like him"? His words weren't the mere babbling of a madman; they were a black, polished mirror he had forcibly held up to my face. And I realized, with a sickening drop in my stomach, that I was not yet ready to see the monster that might reflect back at me.