In a remote mountain village.
The last rays of twilight faded from the horizon as the moon climbed into the sky.
But even though night had fallen, not a single light could be seen in the village.
A dead silence hung over everything.
Not even the bark of a dog or the crow of a rooster could be heard.
The air was thick with the foul stench of rotting flesh. Corpses littered the landscape—in the wheat fields, in the river—their blood soaking the earth until the soil was stained crimson.
And amidst the blood and gore.
The Beast God dragged a male corpse with severed limbs, strolling with a ghostly calm through the downpour as he headed toward the village entrance.
Not a bird in sight, not a soul on the path.
He was the only person left in the village.
"It is finally done."
By the time he reached the village entrance, the male corpse in the Beast God's hand was completely shriveled, all of its blood drained. He tossed it aside casually.
