To my Patrons, I wasn't able to make few chapters, since I've Fallen sick.
---------------------------
Unbeknownst to Marcus and the soldiers with him, the building did not fall silent after their departure.
As the echoes of gunfire faded and their footsteps disappeared down the stairwell, doors began to creak open, one after another. From the shadows of locked rooms, more people emerged. Dozens of them. Men, women—even a few children. Their eyes weren't wide with fear. They weren't victims. They were calm, collected, and very much in control.
One man, his shirt stained with old blood, pointed toward the stairwell and spat angrily.
"They killed five of us. Five! They won't be coming back here again, right?"
Another, older and with a scar running down his cheek, shook his head. "Doesn't matter. They thought those five acted alone. They didn't check. They didn't see. They'll stay away now."
The crowd murmured in agreement.
A tall figure stepped forward from the back, clearly the one the others deferred to. His voice was cold, steady, carrying authority.
"Who's the leader? That man with the sword? Remember his face. From now on, we stay alert. We keep the stock contained.
"Yes, sir," the others replied in unison.
He glanced toward the room where the slaughter had taken place, his expression hard. "Those five… they didn't listen. They broke the rules. And this is what happens when you don't follow the order." He paused, letting the silence weigh heavy before speaking again. "But the rest of us—we obey. We endure. And we survive."
The crowd's mood shifted, their murmurs becoming sharper, filled with conviction.
"All right. We'll listen to you, sir. We'll follow the rules!"
The leader's lips curved into something between a smile and a snarl. "Good. Then make sure the stocks doesn't escape. We'll need every piece of it before winter comes."
A chilling silence followed as the people began slipping back into their rooms, doors shutting quietly, sealing the secret within.
Far below, already on the way back to camp, Marcus gave the order to move faster, eager to put the nightmare of that floor behind him. He hadn't realized it yet—but he had overlooked the most important step of all: checking the surroundings.
And because of that, he had just walked away from something far bigger—and far more dangerous—than he could have imagined.
Inside one of the closed rooms, the air was thick with sweat, fear, and despair. Men, women, even children of various ages were shackled to the walls and floor, chains biting into their skin. Their mouths were plastered with strips of rough tape, silencing their cries but not their muffled sobs or panicked breathing.
Eyes wide and glistening, they darted around the dim chamber, hollowed by hunger and terror. Some pressed their backs against the cold stone, trembling violently, while others sat slumped, too weak to resist or even struggle.
The silence was broken only by the occasional rattle of chains and the muffled whimpers beneath the tape. The stench of suffering clung to the air, heavy and suffocating.
And this was just one chamber. One of many hidden behind the doors of the building.
Each room was a larder—a prison for the living. Human beings reduced to livestock, gagged, bound, and stored like animals, their lives stripped away, waiting for the inevitable.
In one of the most luxurious rooms of the ruined building, far removed from the stench of blood and despair, stood the man who led the cannibals. The remnants of silk curtains hung over broken windows, and a once-polished oak desk now served as his throne.
Before him, one of his lieutenants bowed respectfully.
"Sir, what should we do about the people in the city? Their presence is delaying our operations."
The man opposite him—Mike Deta—leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled, eyes calculating. He hummed thoughtfully, then finally spoke.
"Patience, Jay. Just to be safe, warn the hunters to move carefully. There are new people in the city now, and I won't have our secret slipping out because of carelessness. Make sure they avoid direct contact with the city's residents. At the same time, continue the hunts. Soon, we'll move the stock into our new home."
"Yes, sir," Jay said with a nod before quickly leaving the room.
When the door clicked shut, silence settled again. Mike's lips curved into a thin smile.
Once, he had not been this man. Cruelty had not been his nature. Just weeks ago, he was an ordinary worker, loyal and hardworking. But when his boss framed him, stealing credit for his projects, and then fired him, everything unraveled. His wife, frail and battling cancer, depended on his income for her treatments. Without money, without support, he watched helplessly as the disease consumed her. She died in his arms, and something inside him shattered.
When chaos spread across the country—strange reports, panic in the streets—Mike saw not tragedy, but opportunity. He sought revenge. His first victim was the man he once called his boss. Alone, desperate, terrified of the monstrous creatures outside, Mike chose the only prey he could overpower. He killed him. And in that moment of madness, fear, and hunger, he ate him.
The taste changed everything.
Human flesh was… better. Richer. Addictive. It awakened something dark inside him.
From then on, he no longer saw survivors as people. They were food. Stock to be gathered, processed, and consumed.
He lured others into his trap with promises of safety, then chained them. Those who resisted became examples—slaughtered, butchered, and shared among his growing followers. The shops and stores in the city were infested with creatures, so why risk scavenging for scraps when human meat was so much easier? So much… fresher?
His power grew with each hunt. He built hunting teams, not for animals, but for men, women, and children. Almost every survivor left in the city had heard rumors of him, and most hid in fear. Yet none dared speak openly.
But then the bomb fell—dropped by a passing jet. It tore into the heart of the city, wrecking buildings, killing many, but leaving his compound mostly untouched.
That was when he solidified his rule.
That was when his name began to spread.
Mike Deta.
A man broken by loss, reborn as a monster.
------------------------------
What do you think about this Chapter ??
🌟 Want to support the story even more?
You can join my Patreon for special perks and to help keep the story alive:
👉 patreon.com/xavien1
Reach 100 Power Stones = Bonus Chapter
📚 A little note: I'm still pursuing my college degree, so I may not be able to upload every single day. I'll do my best to keep the story going as consistently as possible, and I deeply appreciate your patience and understanding.