Darkness swallowed the room whole.
No light. No warmth. No mercy.
Only the wet, sickly stench of blood—thick enough to taste in every breath.
The walls were painted with it. The floor shimmered like a black mirror, reflecting torn limbs and shattered furniture. Each drop that fell from the ceiling made a faint, hollow plink, echoing in the silence like the ticking of a clock counting down to death.
Karan lay there—broken, bleeding, barely breathing.
The air burned in his lungs. His hand pressed against his stomach, trying to keep his insides from spilling out. Every breath made the wound ache like fire eating him from the inside.
He looked up—and froze.
The creature standing before him wasn't just a demon. It was the corruption of everything human.
Half snake, half man, and all horror.
Its lower body was a massive coil of muscle and scales, sliding across the floor with a slow, rasping hiss. The upper half was human in shape, but skinless—ribbons of red muscle gleamed wetly under the faint light. Its four arms ended in claws longer than knives. Eyes glowed like twin embers carved into skull sockets.
In its top left arm, it held a little girl. No older than eight. Her legs kicked weakly; her cries were too soft to hear. The sound of her heartbeat was louder than her voice.
"Y-you monster…" Karan coughed, blood spilling from his lips. "Let… the girl go…"
The demon turned its head slowly toward him.
That smile—thin, cruel, inhuman—curled across its blood-smeared face.
"Monster?" it whispered, its voice a hiss and a laugh at once. "No… I'm truth. I am what your world hides beneath its light."
Then it looked down at the corpse near its feet.
"Little girl," the creature said softly, its tone like a lullaby twisted by madness. "This is your mother, isn't it?"
The girl's trembling eyes darted to the mangled body. "Y-yes…" she choked out, voice breaking.
Her mother's body lay bent and lifeless in a pool of red.
Her husband's severed head rested beside her hand, eyes still open, staring blankly upward.
Karan's mind screamed, no more, but his mouth couldn't move.
"P-please…"
That last, broken plea still echoed in his skull—her voice before she died. "Please… leave my daughter…"
Karan gritted his teeth. His hands shook as he forced himself upright.
Every muscle screamed, every breath burned, but he stood.
"You bastard," he hissed, voice trembling with hatred. "If that child even gets a scratch, I'll—"
Before he could finish, the demon extended one hand, claws slicing the air.
With a wet crunch, it plunged its arm straight into the dead woman's chest.
"Stop—!" Karan shouted, but it was too late.
The sound of tearing flesh echoed like thunder.
The creature pulled out a still-beating heart, steam rising from it in the cold air.
The little girl's breath hitched. Her eyes widened in horror.
The demon turned to her, grinning.
"See, child? Your mother's heart still beats for you."
And then—
Glurp. Gulp.
It bit into it, chewing slowly. Each squelch of flesh made Karan's stomach twist.
The girl fainted. Her small body went limp in the demon's grip.
Karan dropped to his knees.
He couldn't feel his hands. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't think.
All he could hear was the sound of the demon chewing—the sound of innocence dying.
"You monster," he whispered, voice cracking. "Why? Why are you doing this?"
The demon's tongue slid across its lips, licking the blood clean. "Why?" it repeated. "Because it is nature. You humans do the same—you just hide it behind gods and laws. You slaughter. You betray. You devour. But when we do it, you call it sin."
"Shut up…" Karan whispered. His fingers dug into the ground, scraping blood and dirt.
"Tell me, hero," the demon sneered. "How many people have you failed to save? How many cried your name before dying? How many prayed for you while you ran away?"
"Shut up…" His voice broke. His head spun with memories—screams, faces, flames. Every failure replayed behind his eyes.
"You think you're different," the demon said softly. "But you reek of the same filth. You bleed the same weakness. You crave power… and yet fear it."
It leaned closer. The air around it shimmered with heat. "So tell me—when you watched that woman die, did you want to save her… or did you enjoy watching? Just a little?"
Something inside Karan snapped.
He slammed his fist into the floor. "STOP IT!"
The room quaked with the echo.
But the demon only smiled wider. "There it is… the truth beneath your skin."
Blood ran down Karan's face as he pressed his palms against his temples. His thoughts spiraled, drowning him.
Why can't I save anyone?
Why am I always too late?
Why am I even alive if all I can do is watch them die?
He wanted to scream, but the sound never came. Only silence—and the beating of his heart—remained.
Then, through the blur, he saw the knife.
It lay near the mother's body, its blade stained red.
Karan reached for it, his hand trembling. It felt heavy—too heavy, like guilt itself had taken shape.
The demon watched, amused. "Ah… now comes the part where the weakling pretends to be brave."
"You talk too much," Karan said quietly, his voice flat and dead. "You'll die either way. But if you say one more word, I'll cut out that filthy tongue first."
The creature blinked. Then laughed—a grotesque, gurgling sound that rattled the windows.
Without warning, it hurled the girl across the room.
Thud. Slam.
She hit the wall, slid down, motionless—but still breathing.
Karan's heart stopped. For a moment, everything went silent.
Then, something deep inside him stirred. A flicker of something ugly, something ancient.
He looked up, eyes bloodshot and burning.
The demon spread its four arms wide. "Come then, human. Show me your strength. Show me that pain is worth something."
Karan's grip tightened around the knife. Blood dripped from his fingertips, marking each step he took forward.
The air thickened—heavy, suffocating.
The flutter of wings outside grew louder.
The shadows seemed to close in, whispering his name.
He looked once more at the unconscious girl.
Then at the thing that had destroyed her world.
He could feel something inside him shatter—a wall breaking, a chain snapping loose.
If being human means weakness… then maybe I need to become something else.
His breathing steadied. His heartbeat slowed.
In his chest, something burned—not rage, not courage—but despair that had forgotten how to die.
The demon's grin faltered for the first time.
There was something new in Karan's eyes—something inhuman.
He raised the knife.
The blade glinted red in the flickering light.
"Fine," Karan whispered, his voice low and trembling with fury.
"You want to see the monster inside me?"
He stepped forward.
And hell opened its eyes.