On the earth, no grass grows, and no animals run free. The forests are quieter than the night itself, and the cities lie in ruins. All movement is in the sky, where white bodies—the clouds—are distorted. Above them, a black trail marks an immense tail, with large yellow eyes at the edge of the celestial vault. Its sharp black tip cuts through the stars like a spear.
Leviathan is the only living creature that roams the earth after the apocalypse. Its existence is the crowning achievement of the most infamous blasphemy against God, a demonstration that humans will use any means to oppose their creator's orders. Its body is so gigantic that the moment its shadow touches the ground, a veil of darkness rises, causing the angels, in their fury, to hurl bolts of lightning in its direction. But nothing has any effect, thanks to its crowned blasphemy.
As it disappears from the sight of creation's divine eyes, the creature enters a long hibernation, during which its body contracts intensely. Within it, it carries those who have cast its soul into the most intense degeneration.
A grotesque red stretches from one corner to the other. The pulsing is like a heart pumping blood. The walls are not firm like those made from the filthy mixture of clay, iron, and blocks; the crimson walls are delicate. At the slightest touch, they respond instantly by spilling goo on whoever touches them.
Beyond the circular carpet of flesh lies a long table, its wood shiny and somewhat glaring, yet the reflection of those standing before it doesn't appear. The figures standing can only be identified by the intense gray of their eyes. Everyone stands waiting for something.
There is a loud noise. The gooey walls move, and everything shakes, but no cutlery falls from the table. The light on the dark ceiling is distorted, and from above, a shape falls.
Its skin is hard, unlike the twisted wall; its body elongated, unlike the gooey wall that stretches incomprehensibly. Its limbs have long claws. The huge lizard-like being moves, advancing against a standing figure. Its large mouth, full of teeth, opens, and its chewing crushes the figure's bones.
The human silhouettes lower their heads, placing their fingers over their own faces. With their other hand, they take a knife and thrust it into their mouths, causing blood to drip onto the plate.
The blood itself begins to move, forming a clock from 1 to 20. A large barrier is created around the table, so the lizard cannot attack anyone inside. Meanwhile, in the center of the table, the blood dripping onto the white tablecloth twists it into a spiral, becoming compact and resembling a human body.
Each figure takes a step forward, approaching the table and placing a hand against the formed clock. From each mouth, a tooth bathed in crimson falls, carried to the being formed from the tablecloth.
The barrier breaks down, and the being in the center of the table stands up, with only the teeth in its mouth visible. On its cloak, an acronym, "Le Grand K," is formed.
Seized by its instincts, the lizard advances against the being. With a singular movement, it throws its arms over the table. With its head forward, it penetrates the being with its body, tearing off a part of the cloak that locally takes the shape of an arm. In its hand appears a silver sword, like the candelabras on the table.
The being makes a cut, but it has no effect on the lizard's skin. Its sword was too fast and didn't seem to have enough weight to slice through. It seemed the creature was like a newborn baby, learning things in small steps. Because of this, it takes another bite, tearing the hood of its cloak. Its eyes glow crimson, its mouth remains open, making the same expression as the animal while the teeth are still jammed into its mouth. Awkwardly, it forces its hands against them so they won't fall out.
The lizard attacks fiercely again. The being raises its hand toward the animal, grabbing it by the neck as if its weight were nothing. Its other hand holds the blade. The animal struggles, but with each moment, it seems to suffocate more.
Its tail bends, its paws twist, and a viscous liquid drips from its tongue onto the being's hand.
The being makes a cut, but it only hits the animal's tail, which is thrown forward as the being shifts all the weight it was carrying in the hand holding the neck onto the sword, causing the lizard to dodge the blow.
In desperation, the animal runs, and when its tail touches the table, it breaks in half. The being's body is dyed an intense red, covering its almond skin tone and long white hair.
The figures move toward the tail on the floor, which is strangely taking the shape of something alive, thrashing intensely, with orifices being created. Gathered around the lizard, they watch as a new living being is born—a feast. Before the large claws and sharp teeth fully grow in, they attack with their forks and knives.
The figures don't seem satisfied. Their gray eyes are clenched shut in the direction of the being. They don't need to say anything to it; it knows that to satisfy the hunger of its creators, it needs a whole carcass.
Animals protect their newborn children; mothers, their precious little jewels. The creations must protect their masters and give them what they want. Before long, the being learns a little more. Then, in a calm manner, he picks up his sword and wields it, running toward the lizard.
In a sequence of cuts, he dismantles the great lizard, removes the cloak that had served as his nursery, and places the animal's parts on it so the figures can have their feast.
Its teeth finally click together without falling out of its mouth. The being raises its head in the direction from which the lizard emerged, and with an impulse, tries to leave its nest. Its body is paralyzed when it sees the giant red eyes on the other side, and it is soon pierced by its own sword, impaled to the ground. While it doesn't understand anything, a figure approaches it and runs a hand over its face.
"Homunculus, it's not time to leave here yet. Your creators still feel a hunger; we are not satisfied. That's why we did it with the rest of the sins that weren't necessary for our ambition."
While everyone around him has their mouths filled with large chunks of the lizard's tough flesh, the Homunculus fills the void with words.
"Okay, I just want to get stronger. I want to be a complete being."
After everyone finishes their meal, they all gather around the Homunculus. Its wounds are healed, and it receives a black cloak from one of its creators.
"Kilbit, that will be your name. Your existence is the spark of the sin of gluttony. This flame will never go out! For my sin is our word made flesh!"
A clock symbol from 1 to 20 appears on the cloak, as Kilbit opens his mouth and lets out a long roar, looking upward.
"I will turn Leviathan into a feast for my creators!"