In a distant place on one edge of the continent, a city shone under the setting sun as if it did not know the meaning of death. Its walls were tall, its markets crowded, and its stone towers rose from the ground like the teeth of a predator smiling at the world while hiding hell behind its grin.
And in the heart of that city, in the great square where red and white banners were hung and where the clans gathered for celebrations or executions, one man stood. Chained, surrounded by soldiers, drowned in screams, standing on a platform soaked with blood.
That man was the head of the Blood Pulse Clan.
His eyes were red from rage, his shoulders hung from exhaustion, and his lips trembled under the weight of a cruel truth: his clan was now silent corpses inside blood-stained coffins lined up before him, as if they were preparing to bury the truth itself.
He raised his head to the sky and shouted:
"Damn all of you! Damn your ruler! Damn your clans! Damn this treacherous city!"
The square shook, as if the earth itself shivered from the power of his curses. But the people only spat, pointed fingers, or whispered words that tore the air: Traitors… servants of the void demons… filth that must be erased…
The city's ruler appeared.
A man in his mid-forties, wearing a silver armor engraved with sharp symbols that looked like wolf fangs. He walked onto the opposite platform with steady steps, his head raised as if even the sky sided with him.
He smiled coldly and lifted his hand.
Everything went silent. Even the wind stopped, as if it feared his gaze.
He said with a smooth, fake, poisonous voice:
"The Blood Pulse Clan has been convicted of dealing with void demons. Your clan, man… brought ruin to the nation."
The crowd murmured.
The chained man shouted with anger and pain: "Show the evidence! I want the evidence!"
The ruler answered quickly with an icy smile: "Our evidence… is your blood."
The chained man lifted his head, the veins in his neck ready to burst:
"Our blood?! We stood with you! We watered your land with our sweat! We sent our sons to fight the Black Wolves when you ran away! And we… we were loyal to this city while you… you are nothing but ungrateful scum!!"
The murmurs grew louder, then turned into chants: "Shut up! Traitors! You are the cause of our disasters! You are a plague!"
The people were not stupid… they were afraid. They knew a conspiracy was happening, but fear turns humans into beasts.
From behind the ruler, an old man stepped forward.
He was frail, bent so much that some thought he would fall. But his aura was not human. A black-red robe covered him, his features hidden in a shadow untouched by light.
He stood beside the ruler and whispered with a cold voice that pierced bodies:
"The blood of this clan has unnatural energy. It may be linked to void demons… or it may not. But what is certain… is that it can be refined, and a great spiritual power can be extracted from it."
The faces of the clan leaders changed. Fear turned into greed, and their eyes became claws.
One of them smiled and whispered to the ruler:
"So… even if the accusation is false…?"
The old man answered without blinking:
"Power does not lie."
Silence spread… then the ruler burst into a short, wicked laugh and said:
"Then let the rituals begin… the rituals to cleanse the world from the blood of these demons."
The chained man trembled, not in fear… but in rage so intense it lit his face.
"What rituals?! Has your greed reached the point where you kill our children and women just to drink our blood?! You monsters… you are darker than the demons themselves!"
The ruler approached him step by step, leaned down, and whispered into his ear:
"In this world… the weak die. And the strong… take. You were weak, and that is all."
He straightened up and shouted loudly:
"Your blood is cursed! Your souls are filthy! They must be cleansed… to bring peace to this nation!"
The square exploded with chants:
"The ruler is our savior!! He purifies our city!! Death to the traitors!!"
The chained man looked at them, his eyes burning, his heart tearing apart, and he screamed:
"Ungrateful dogs!! My clan fed you when you starved! We protected you from the wolves! We…!!"
But the chants drowned his voice: Liar… liar… filth… deceiver…
The old man raised his hand. The ground began to shake.
Bloody magic circles appeared under the chained man and under every coffin of the Blood Pulse Clan. Red lines moved like fiery snakes around the corpses, then rose from the coffins like thick red smoke.
The old man said:
"Ruler… clan leaders… Release your energy."
Like hungry dogs, the clan leaders extended their hands. Dark blood-like energy poured from them into the circles. The drawings ignited, and the red light turned into fire, then into bloody flames that consumed the coffins and the bodies inside.
The bodies started to evaporate. A horrifying sound echoed, as if souls were being pulled by force from what remained of their flesh.
The chained man began to burn as well.
His skin peeled. His bones glowed. His veins burst. And he howled… howled like a dying beast.
The people chanted. The ruler smiled.
The old man approached the ruler and said:
"The preparations are complete. All that remains… is to refine his blood and soul completely. Then we can consume them and increase our power many times."
The ruler smiled coldly and said nothing.
The burning man raised his head.
The flames ate his neck, and pain tore through his chest, but his eyes did not fade.
They burned with a color no human eyes had.
He laughed… a broken, mad laugh, as if he had lost his mind or as if he had seen something that should never be seen.
The whole city seemed to bend toward his final scream.
He raised his head to the sky and roared:
"You want to see demons… That is what you will get."