The city that had been struck moments ago by an unforgettable massacre
had now fallen into a silence made of dust and blood.
But above this ruin,
a giant sphere of blood hovered, slowly turning like a hellish moon,
glowing with a red light that dripped over the rubble like an eternal curse.
At the center of the sphere,
Ashen was sinking into an immeasurable depth,
suspended between life and death,
his cracked body shining like pieces of pottery that had been broken and forced back together beyond their limits.
The blood around him was not just liquid.
It was the very souls of the city.
They circled him, touched him, pulled toward him,
as if this shattered body had become a magnet for everything that remained alive in this abandoned place.
Outside the sphere,
the giant monster stood like a throne of chaos.
A massive fifteen-meter creature
with a torn wolf-like face
and a huge vertical eye glowing like a separate mind observing everything.
Its four hands stretched toward the sky.
A line of blood emerged from its palm,
then another,
then dozens of swirling lines wrapping around the sphere
like threads woven by a demon stitching a robe from hell.
Then the spells appeared.
Symbols formed from blood,
opening in the air like flowers,
but instead of nectar,
they bled.
They were not ordinary spells.
They were Blood Slaughter Spells,
spells meant for healing through destructive pain.
Forbidden spells used only by beings with no sense of humanity,
because the pain they caused was beyond what any human mind could endure.
The spells wrapped around the blood sphere,
then tilted inward,
piercing the surface,
and spreading toward Ashen's motionless body.
Inside,
the cracks on Ashen's body began to move.
The first crack…
then the second…
then dozens…
then hundreds…
The cracks split open suddenly,
as if the skin was rebelling,
pulling apart like a red door forced open.
The nerves appeared,
then the bone,
then the marrow.
It was terrifying,
too terrifying for any human eye to handle.
But Ashen was no longer human.
Then the cracks closed.
Opened.
Closed.
Opened.
A cycle that repeated—
sometimes opening deep enough to show bone,
sometimes closing as if his body refused to fall apart.
His body was fighting.
Fighting to stay alive.
Fighting to return.
The surrounding blood was being drawn into the cracks,
entering them like hungry mouths,
then flowing back out to begin the cycle again.
Outside the sphere,
the giant's vertical eye did not blink.
It observed every detail,
every twitch,
every bubble of bursting blood,
every exposed bone.
It looked as if it was reading Ashen.
Reading his existence.
Reading his secrets.
Reading the fracture inside him.
It leaned closer, staring.
And an idea appeared in its mind.
An idea that should never have existed.
Simple.
Savage.
Instinctive.
"Can I eat this thing?"
It wasn't a sentence.
It was a raw instinct.
A killer appetite.
A craving only a creature made of blood could feel.
Its spirit began to tremble.
A spirit made of many voices—
hundreds speaking inside its body:
"The blood…
this blood…
it's not like the others…
eat him…
eat him…
eat him…"
The desire began shifting into an order,
into a need,
into a hunger it could not control.
Its hand moved toward the sphere—
And suddenly—
a wild aura erupted from Ashen's core.
An aura not only of blood,
but of pure rage,
a savage force beating like the voice of a beast that only knew how to make the world kneel.
The sphere shook.
The air shook.
Even the giant trembled.
Its hand froze instantly,
as if the force coming from Ashen grabbed its soul from within
and forced it back into obedience.
The voices inside its body went silent.
They calmed.
They retreated,
as if something far greater had ordered them to stop.
The vertical eye blinked—
for the first time since it appeared in this world.
Then the monster bent slightly,
as if apologizing to itself for thinking something it should not have thought.
"You…
are not prey,"
it said in a distorted voice,
but with an undeniable admission.
Then it resumed its work.
It raised its hands,
focused again,
and the blood spells around the sphere sped up,
symbol after symbol,
aura after aura,
until the scene looked like a demonic dance.
Inside the sphere,
the cracks finally began
to truly heal.
Slowly,
but deeply.
And with each closing crack,
the city's blood dimmed a little
as if offering a piece of its soul to him.
His fingers twitched.
Then his chest.
Then his eyelids.
The crimson mist gathered around him again—
first a thin thread,
then a weak curtain,
then a small aura beating like a new heart.
Then—
he opened his eyes.
He opened his eyes inside the sea of blood like twin flames in an endless abyss.
And consciousness returned.
Ashen returned.