《Ashes of the forgotten》 The Order of Slaughter This chapter contains graphic violence, gore, and dark themes. Reader discretion is advised. Hell ¨C A Land of Endless Suffering The very air was saturated with the acrid stench of sulfur and the charred odor of burning flesh, mingling into a miasma that clung to every surface. Beneath his feet, the earth lay cracked and blistered, its surface marred by deep fissures through which glowing veins of molten rock pulsed rhythmically, like the failing heartbeat of a world wracked by eternal torment. Far in the distance, jagged, ominous mountains towered, their craggy peaks veiled in swirling tendrils of black smoke. Overhead, the sky stretched endlessly in darkness, a tumultuous vortex of crimson and rust-colored clouds colliding and coalescing into a perpetual storm, with neither sun nor moon to break the oppressive gloom¡ªonly the ghostly illumination of far-off, relentless fires that cast eerie, shifting shadows over a landscape of ruin. The searing heat was almost unendurable. A bitter wind swept across the wasteland, carrying with it the forlorn, agonized whispers of the fallen¡ªa disjointed symphony of despair that seemed to echo from some primordial well of suffering. It was as if Hell itself was a living entity, ravenously feeding on the ceaseless violence and demanding ever more brutal sacrifice. Here, monumental structures of blackened stone, ravaged by time and catastrophic destruction, lay half-concealed beneath the oppressive weight of obliteration¡ªthe decaying vestiges of a once-proud civilization. Scattered throughout the morbid tableau, broken and rusted weapons lay abandoned among countless bodies, silent relics of a brutal conflict that had never truly found an end. And amid the devastation¡ª Bodies. Countless corpses were strewn carelessly across the scarred landscape, their lifeless eyes staring blankly into the void, as if searching for some forgotten mercy. Some had been severed in a single, merciless stroke, while others were brutally flayed apart as though by some invisible, malevolent force. Pools of blood oozed slowly into the cracked, thirsty earth, hissing and steaming under the relentless, unnatural heat. The pervasive smell of death hung thick in the air, a suffocating presence that clung to every ruin like an ancient, unyielding curse. The ground, shattered and uneven, bore not only the scars of nature but the overwhelming weight of bodies piled haphazardly, each one adding to the macabre tableau. Here and there, some wretched creatures twitched in their final moments, their last breaths swallowed by the smoldering, despair-laden wind, as their contorted limbs clawed blindly into the void, their final thoughts awash with paralyzing terror. Perhaps this infernal realm was not always as it had become before he arrived. At the very center of the carnage, a solitary figure emerged, shrouded by the relentless pandemonium. Silent. Unmoving. Unstoppable. The flames danced wildly around him, their erratic, flickering luminescence reflecting in a pair of cold, unyielding eyes that betrayed no emotion. His very presence sent shivers of fear rippling across the battlefield¡ªa spectral harbinger of death presiding over a realm already steeped in ruin and despair. The wind roared, carrying distant, tormented screams that entwined with the ever-present sound of dripping blood; each plink from his weapon was a morbid metronome, marking the pace of the endless slaughter. The ground trembled beneath the figure''s feet, the earth itself seemingly afraid of his presence. His cloak billowed around him, its fabric hot to the touch and crackling with hidden energies. It seemed to pull towards him, as if drawn in by some unseen force. The ground trembles with each step the figure takes, the earth itself seemingly recoiling from their presence. But their skin, to those brave or foolish enough to touch it, is icy cold and unnaturally smooth. A devil, fueled by desperation and madness, lunged at him with outstretched claws and wild, terrified eyes. The sound of metal against flesh, sharp and sudden, like the breaking of a thunderbolt over the battlefield. The savage impact was immediate¡ªa ferocious blow that sent its head crashing to the scorched ground long before its body could even comprehend its demise. The figure remained impassive, his gaze steady and unfaltering. One deliberate step forward. Another adversary surged forth. Another life extinguished. A wicked blade arced through the air toward his throat, but with a subtle tilt of his head¡ªbarely an inch of motion¡ªhe evaded the lethal strike with an ease that defied the chaos. In the fleeting moment before the devil could recalibrate¡ª The sound reverberated through the air like a whip crack, sharp and jarring, a warning of imminent danger. It cut through the chaos like a knife, commanding attention and freezing all in its wake. His fist collided forcefully with its chest, shattering bone and rending through sinew as though cleaving through paper. The creature convulsed in a final, desperate spasm before falling into absolute stillness. One. And another. And yet another followed in the same relentless pattern. This battlefield was his sovereign domain, and within its confines his authority was absolute. Wave after wave of demonic assailants surged forth in frenzied desperation. Some leapt from ruined rooftops while others dug their claws into the scorched, ashen earth, all seeking to fell him; but not one succeeded. Each clumsy, impassioned strike was met with a swift, merciless counter¡ªa shattered arm here, a fragmented ribcage there, a severed spine to finish the reckoning. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. He did not pause. He did not waver. Indifference was his constant companion. As the devils'' attacks grew more erratic, their primal terror eclipsed any semblance of coordinated instinct. One attempted a stealthy, backstab from behind, only to be impaled through the chest with horrifying efficiency before it could even register the movement. Amidst the chaos, blood pooled around him, seeping into the furrowed, cracked earth as a ghastly offering to the scorched land. Overhead, the sickly, endless darkness of the sky pressed down like a shroud, while below the battlefield reverberated with the piercing, agonizing screams of those meeting their end. The figure moved with an almost spectral grace, fluidly navigating the maelstrom of combat. His every motion was calculated and precise, executed with machine-like efficiency, devoid of any hint of passion or hesitation. He did not fight with wild fury; he fought with a cold, unwavering purpose. At one point, a devil vaulted from a shattered rooftop, its sinuous wings unfurling as it hurled a crude spear aimed squarely at his chest. He continued his relentless march, undeterred. Just as the spear neared its target¡ª WHOOSH! He inclined his face ever so slightly, allowing the lethal weapon to merely graze his cheek, leaving behind a solitary drop of blood that trickled silently down his skin. The devil''s countenance transformed in an instant¡ªfrom confident aggression to utter shock, and finally to pure, unadulterated terror. That fleeting moment was all it needed. And it missed. The figure exhaled slowly, a breath that carried neither triumph nor regret. In the blink of an eye¡ª He vanished from sight. For a heartbeat, the devil blinked in confusion¡ªonly to witness its own head decapitating in a gruesome spectacle as its torso toppled lifelessly to the barren ground. The lone warrior landed with eerie tranquility; his blade, slick with the rich, crimson evidence of slaughter, hung at his side. Another steady step. Another adversary fell. Another life ended. This was his routine. This became his normal. His heart remained undisturbed by the carnage; his mind did not wander into reminiscences of morality or grief. He did not kill from a place of hatred or vengeance¡ªit was merely the inexorable fulfillment of his nature. From the darkened edges of the battlefield, more devils emerged, their hesitant movements betraying palpable fear. Their terror hung thick in the air, almost tangible, yet driven onwards by doomed duty or desperate hope. It was, ultimately, a fruitless endeavor. The figure released a measured, almost languid breath¡ªas though observing a swarm of disoriented insects marching to their inevitable doom, each aware of their powerless fate. They had witnessed the brutal fate of their kin, yet they continued to approach, shackled by a terror that rendered them incapable of defiance. And so, one after the other, they perished. The surviving devils staggered backward, their eyes wide and filled with a terror that far surpassed mere anger¡ªa raw, unfiltered dread took root. "He''s a monster..." "He''s not even human..." "What in the abyss is he?" Their whispered, quavering voices reached him, but he remained unmoved, untouched by their panic. With each deliberate step, his boots pressed into the saturated, blood-soaked earth, marking his inexorable march forward. The devils fractured under the pressure. Some let out piercing screams. Some spun away in frantic retreat. Some valiantly attempted a counterattack. But in the end, it mattered not. They all crumbled before him, meeting the same grim fate. The Final Stand Before him, the very last devil stood¡ªa pitiful, trembling creature, its body battered, bleeding, and utterly defeated. It dropped its crude weapon with trembling hands. "P-please..." the creature whimpered, its voice choked with despair, eyes pleading for mercy. "I¡ªI surrender." Staring unblinking, he regarded the desperate plea with impassive indifference. For one agonizing, suspended moment, the battlefield seemed to hold its breath in silence. The moment hung in the air, a heavy curtain of uncertainty that threatened to suffocate the very last remnants of hope. SLASH! In a swift, final act, the devil''s body collapsed at his feet, joining the multitude of fallen adversaries. Smoke curled languidly around him, the flames reflecting off his unyielding, seemingly lifeless eyes. He exhaled, a slow release that rippled through his broad shoulders as if unburdening an invisible weight. And then¡ªfor the very first time, breaking his vow of silent lethality¡ªhe spoke. "Ah! I nearly forgot to introduce myself." With a calm, almost dispassionate tone, he continued, "As far as I remember, my name is... Toshi... Igasaki." His voice, a soothing monotone, was devoid of emotion yet carried an unsettling finality. He regarded his bloodstained hands, each crimson smear a silent record of his deeds. "And the reason I am killing these devils is simple¡­" he paused, allowing the silence to deepen the macabre atmosphere. After a charged moment of stillness, he intoned: "I was told to." Far off in the distance, a new horde of devils advanced, oblivious to the impending massacre that awaited them. Toshi turned slowly to face them, his gaze ice-cold, his blade still dripping with the stolen lifeblood of his recent victims. The hunt continued. Whispers of the Unknown Name Toshi moved silently through the desolation, his every measured step stirring a pale veil of ash from the fractured, parched earth. Behind him, the last ravaged village exhaled tendrils of smoke into a charred sky, its ruins suffused with the grim aftermath of his recent work¡ªfresh corpses scattered among slick, bloodstained surfaces. His stride was steady, driven by a single-minded focus on his next target. Another devil to dispatch. Another task to conclude. Nothing else held meaning. The agonized cries of the dying had long lost their capacity to disturb him; they had faded into an indistinct backdrop of suffering. Yet, amid the barren wasteland, an alien sound broke through the relentless hum of destruction. A child''s cry. He stopped abruptly, his face a frozen mask carved of cold marble, betraying no emotion¡ªa statue forged by an indifferent hand. A few paces ahead, a small devil boy crouched on the ashen ground, his frail body curled as if trying to vanish, trembling hands desperately trying to stanch his tears. Every shudder of his body and every breaking cry evoked a haunting familiarity. "Mom... Dad... where are you...?" The terror woven through the boy''s muted plea resonated with memories of loss¡ªa sound Toshi had encountered too often. The parents were gone. No¡ªthey were not merely absent. He had ended their lives. Advancing with deliberate slowness, Toshi drew near, his blade slick with the blood of untold victims, its ominous gleam catching the dim light. In that moment, with one precise, decisive stroke, he could have silenced the child''s agony forever. And yet, he did not lift his weapon. Instead, he stood rooted, his eyes locked on the inconsolable child as he silently weighed the meaning of the moment. What would it prove? The child was beyond help now. Ending its life would be an act of futility. With an almost dismissive exhale, Toshi stepped aside, leaving the sobbing devil to the mercy of his fate. Not worth the effort. As he moved away, the child''s cries slowly dissipated into the wind, and for a fleeting heartbeat¡ªso brief it bordered on imperceptibility¡ªsomething stirred deep within him. Something he couldn''t quite name. Continuing his solitary march, Toshi suddenly caught another sound¡ªa voice, soft and insidious, barely a murmur. "Ru..." He paused. A subtle twitch of his calloused fingers, a slight turn of his head as he surveyed the empty, wrecked landscape. Nothing was there. The murmur had materialized from the emptiness. His eyes narrowed in suspicion, a fleeting thought that perhaps his senses were betraying him. Yet, he pressed onward. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. Then it came again. "Ru... come here..." This time, the sound was unmistakably clearer, gentler, imbued with a striking familiarity that sent a shiver down his spine. Every muscle tensed in response. That voice... A deep furrow marred his features as he quickly pivoted, alert and scanning the fractured world. Yet again, nothing tangible revealed itself. The crying child remained distant; the wind moaned a melancholic dirge; the ruins maintained their oppressive silence. Still, the voice persisted¡ª "Ru... my child..." His breath became erratic, and his grip on the bloodstained blade tightened almost painfully. The relentless call gnawed at his resolve, incredibly irritating him. His name was Toshi. Ru was not a name rooted in his past. Still, the voice would not relent. "Ru... come back to me..." His hands clenched into fists as anger surged, his heartbeat driven into a furious crescendo. It wasn''t real. It must not be real. And yet, the whisper echoed, swelling into a louder, more insistent plea. "Ru... why are you running?" With his pulse thrumming in his ears, the ruined landscape around him began to distort¡ªthe shattered edifices, the curling smoke, even the sky itself twisted and blurred as if succumbing to the chaos of his inner turmoil. Toshi ground his teeth, his eyes flickering with a rare, raw intensity. His breathing quickened; his fingers quivered as the very fabric of his being felt unsteady. The echo of those whispered pleas clawed at his mind. His fists tightened until his knuckles bleached, and with a ragged, fierce exhalation, he bellowed¡ª "Who dares to toy with me?!" His body shuddered, not out of fear, but propelled by something darker, something untamed and ferocious. Then, in a sudden, violent eruption¡ª BOOM! The ground beneath him split apart as the unleashed fury exploded outward. Rocks and shattered debris were flung helplessly into the air, caught in the manic vortex of his raw, unbridled power. The atmosphere trembled as a shockwave tore its way through the desolate land. Instinctively, his limbs surged into motion. His blade arced wildly through the air, a deadly crescent of retribution. The surrounding ruins buckled under the uncontainable might of his assault, his power coursing unchecked through the battlefield. The murmurs of the unseen presence fell silent. Yet, his battle was far from the end. From the distance, a massive surge of energy erupted¡ªa clarion call to the elite devils dwelling in the shattered city beyond. Their senses, honed to detect disturbances, rang out in alarmed urgency. "What in the hell is happening?!" "This energy¡ªunlike anything we''ve encountered before!" "Send reinforcements! Whoever has unleashed this force must be stopped, at all costs!" Without delay, the elite forces of hell surged through the smoky skies, their forms weaving toward the epicenter of devastation. Toshi barely acknowledged their arrival; a profound indifference shrouded him as his mind simmered with the residual heat of his unspent rage, a fire that refused to die despite his best efforts. The first Elite descended, his imposing presence accentuated by a raised hand from which a massive, ominous black spear materialized¡ªoozing with lethally potent energy. "Identify yourself!" the Elite demanded, voice booming across the chaos. "Who are you? What is your purpose?!" Toshi''s eyes, streaked with red fury, narrowed to slits as he issued a curt response¡ª "Silence." In a blur of motion, before the Elite could react, Toshi''s blade swept through the air, decimating him with a single, ruthless strike that cleaved his form in two. In an instant, the remaining Elites launched a coordinated assault. The battlefield erupted into chaotic violence. Energy blasts streaked the air; clashing swords rang amidst the cacophony; even the very ground heaved and cracked under the strain of the ensuing combat. Yet, nothing could stem his relentless onslaught. Toshi fought like an unbridled force of nature, sidestepping deadly strikes with a predatory grace and slicing through enemy ranks with terrifying precision. One foe after another fell before him, their blood seeping into the broken earth, their screams gradually fading into a sorrowful murmur. High above the bedlam, a towering shadow loomed over the carnage. A figure of ominous presence, his crimson eyes gleamed fiercely against the backdrop of raging flames. He had borne witness to enough. A sly, knowing smirk flickered at the corner of his lips. "Interesting." With a single, unwavering step, the King of Hell himself¡ªZokaris¡ªdescended into the fray. As flames danced with a menacing rhythm across the battlefield, Toshi, his breath ragged and heavy, turned to face this formidable new arrival. It was clear: a tempest was gathering. Chapter End. The Taste of Defeat Flames leapt and twirled over the shattered ruins, their flickering light casting eerie shadows on the remnants of destruction. The air was heavy and oppressive, saturated with the iron tang of blood and the acrid stench of burnt flesh that clung to every breath. The battlefield resembled nothing less than a vast, desecrated graveyard, strewn with the broken bodies of Hell''s mightiest warriors. Each lifeless form lay as a silent testament to the massacre, while the biting aroma of death mingled with the distant, mournful groans of crumbling buildings. From the rubble, fires crackled incessantly, ravenously consuming what little evidence remained of a city now completely erased from memory. In the heart of this devastation stood Toshi, a solitary figure caught between fury and exhaustion. His chest heaved laboriously as he struggled to draw in air, and his trembling fists betrayed the tempest of rage that coursed through him. It wasn''t mere exhaustion that plagued him¡ªhis entire being was consumed by a burning, uncontrollable ire. Blood dripped steadily from the edge of his blade, pooling in a dark, sinister mirror beneath his feet. The bodies of the fallen Elites, their vacant, accusatory eyes wide with disbelief, were scattered carelessly across the battlefield. They had come with the intent to slay a monster, yet fate had twisted the narrative¡ªand they became nothing more than its hapless victims. The profound silence that blanketed the scene was almost tangible, punctuated only by the sporadic flicker of flames and the persistent, gentle pattern of blood dripping from his fingertips. And then¡ª A voice shattered the oppressive silence. "Wow, you actually killed all my elites." The tone was disarmingly calm, imbued with an amused nonchalance that made light of the surrounding carnage. Toshi''s head snapped upward, his eyes¡ªstreaked red from the fury burning within¡ªlocking onto the figure at the very edge of the battlefield. It was Zokaris. The King of Hell himself. Casually, he stood with his hands tucked nonchalantly in his pockets, the long, sweeping coat around him swaying languidly in the heat-warped air. His face, marked by an expression of mild curiosity, regarded the massacre of his most formidable warriors as though it were nothing more than an intriguing, imperfect spectacle. Without a moment''s hesitation or a thought borne of caution, Toshi lunged forward. In a burst of raw determination, his blade sliced through the oppressive air at a speed that blurred its edge into mere gasps of motion. Yet Zokaris remained unnervingly still. At the very last heartbeat, his head tilted ever so slightly, a minimal adjustment that allowed him to sidestep Toshi''s deadly arc with an almost imperceptible elegance. Again and again, Toshi swung his weapon¡ªa furious ballet of lethal intent¡ªbut with an effortless grace, Zokaris evaded every strike. One attack after the next, Toshi''s desperate flurries of desperate motion met only air, his every blow failing to meet its mark. Frustration coiled within him like a living thing. His movements grew faster, wilder, and increasingly reckless; his furious strikes carved through the air with devastating force, sending shockwaves that scattered debris like fallen leaves. Yet, each time, Zokaris dodged with a disdainfully calm poise, his perpetual smirk never faltering. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. Then, in a single, swift moment that defied the simmering intensity of the battle¡ª Zokaris''s hand shot forward with the speed of a striking serpent. Before Toshi could muster a reaction, slender, almost delicate fingers coiled around his throat. With a casual ease that belied the brutality of his act, Zokaris hoisted him into the air. Toshi''s struggles were frantic, his hands clawing desperately at the wrist that gripped him¡ªyet it was as if he were contending with unyielding steel. Tilting his head ever so slightly, Zokaris regarded Toshi with a detached, analytical curiosity. "Hmmm... from what I can see, you''re definitely not human. But you''re not a devil either." His smirk broadened into something more mischievous, his voice dripping with a sardonic amusement as he added, "Could it be... did Ikaris send you?" The question, delivered in a tone that mingled mockery with intrigue, sent a disoriented shock through Toshi. His struggling began to wane, and his breath came in short, ragged gasps. "Who... Ikaris? Who are you talking about?" he managed to choke out, his voice thick with confusion and pain. A low chuckle escaped Zokaris, rich with derision and amusement. "Oh? So even you don''t know? That''s interesting. Let''s take a guess¡ªwho could have sent you?" he mused, his tone teasing yet unnervingly cold. With a slight tightening of his unyielding grip, he made Toshi gag, accentuating the power he held. "Ah, but it doesn''t matter, does it? Because now... you''re in my hands." Toshi bit his lip in bitter defiance, trying vainly to push against the inexorable force that was Zokaris''s grasp. His fingers dug into the devil''s wrist, his eyes flashing with the raw heat of unbridled rage. Yet for every ounce of his desperate resistance, the grip only tightened like chains forged from pure steel. Zokaris sighed, his head tilting as he observed Toshi with a mix of pity and curiosity. "You''re an anomaly. Someone like you shouldn''t exist. But here you are. Now, what should I do with you?" he mused aloud, his eyes gleaming with a curious pleasure. A glimmer of dark humor sparked in his eyes as he continued, "I don''t feel like killing you. So what should I do?" Even as Toshi struggled more fiercely, desperate to escape, Zokaris held him with an unyielding might. "I have an idea... I''ll let you go. But under one condition," he whispered ominously as he leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur, "I won''t forget you. And you won''t forget me." Toshi''s teeth clenched into a grimace as he spat out, "Just die¡­" Zokaris''s laughter rippled across the battlefield¡ªa dark, mocking chortle that seemed to encapsulate the absurdity of the moment. "Oh, but I can''t trust you. What if you forget me?" His smirk darkened, morphing into something far more sinister as he added, "Ah¡­ I''ll leave you with something to remember me by." Before Toshi could even register the impending horror, in an explosion of brutal, searing pain¡ª PAIN. A blinding, explosive agony ravaged him as Zokaris''s grip tightened with inhuman force, tearing mercilessly through flesh and bone. A sickening crack echoed across the devastation¡ªa sound as resounding and final as the tolling of a death knell. And then, in a moment that felt both surreal and irrevocable, Toshi''s right arm was violently ripped from his body. Blood exploded from the wound like a crimson fountain, spraying the scorched earth in a grotesque display of violence. A sharp gasp tore from Toshi''s lips as his vision wavered, dimming at the edges under the weight of shock. His knees buckled, slamming him harshly against the unforgiving ground, while his body swayed uncertainly in its defeat. With a disdainful flick, Zokaris discarded the severed limb as though it were nothing more than a piece of refuse. "Now you''ll never forget me," he declared coolly, his tone echoing with the finality of a verdict, before turning away and striding off as if the gruesome act were merely a trivial inconvenience. Toshi remained on his battered knees, his remaining hand frantically clutching the empty space where his arm once existed. The world spun wildly around him, his ragged, shallow breaths punctuating the silence, as dark blood pooled beneath him like a spreading stain. For the first time since his rebirth, he tasted the bitter flavor of defeat. The surrounding fires crackled with a mocking energy, their embers reflecting in his wide, disbelieving eyes. His mind raced and pleaded for some form of salvation while his body betrayed him, rendered immobile by the crushing weight of his loss. He had waged countless battles, his blade having sung of death so many times, yet never before had he experienced such a profound, all-consuming powerlessness. Clenching his teeth in a futile bid for defiance, he savored the iron tang of his own blood as his vision began to dim at the edges. And then¡ª The overwhelming darkness swallowed him whole. ¡ª Chapter End.