Warning:
This chapter is nothing but pure, unrelenting carnage. If excessive violence and gore are not your thing, feel free to skip it. There is no significant plot development here—just blood, slaughter, and war.
For those who enjoy carnage, I hope this delivers.
The battlefield was alive with chaos and death.
But for Raiden Blackthorn, it was something far greater—
It was a playground.
Blood soaked the earth, turning it into a thick, crimson sludge. Corpses lay torn, dismembered, gutted, their entrails steaming in the frigid night air. The acrid stench of burning flesh clogged the lungs, mixing with the metallic tang of spilt blood.
And at the center of it all stood Raiden, grinning like a demon from the pits of hell.
His crimson hair, matted with sweat and gore, clung to his face in sticky strands. His armor, scarred and battered, dripped with fresh blood, the dents and cracks telling the tale of countless battles. In his hands, his greatsword, a colossal slab of steel and slaughter, gleamed wetly under the flickering glow of the fires.
Before him, the Imperial knights trembled.
They had formed a defensive wall, shields locked, spears steady. Their commander, an aging veteran with a jagged scar splitting his face, barked out a desperate order—
Raiden stood amidst the blood-soaked grass, his greatsword a monolith of death in his hands. His crimson hair was wild, matted with sweat and the gore of the fallen. His armor, though dented and scarred, gleamed in the hellish glow of the flames. The grin splitting his face was nothing short of ecstatic, his storm-gray eyes alight with unrestrained joy.
The battlefield was alive with chaos and death, but for Raiden Blackthorn, it was something far greater—it was a playground.
Blood soaked the ground, seeping into the dirt like ink spilled across parchment. Corpses littered the battlefield, their armor rent, their bodies broken. The stench of iron, sweat, and burning flesh filled the air, thick and suffocating.
And in the middle of it all, Raiden stood, grinning.
His crimson hair was wild, matted with sweat and the gore of the fallen. His once-polished armor was dented, cracked, and splattered with blood so thick it dripped from his gauntlets in long, viscous streams. His greatsword gleamed wetly in the flickering firelight.
Before him, the Imperial knights trembled.
They had formed a defensive line, their polished plate glinting under the red haze of battle. Spears leveled. Shields locked together. Their commander, a grizzled veteran with a deep, jagged scar over his eye, shouted over the carnage.
"Hold the line! He's just one man!"
Raiden laughed.
"One man?" he echoed, his voice rough from exertion, from bloodlust. His storm-gray eyes gleamed with exhilaration. "No, no, no. I am far worse than that."
And then he moved.
A blur of steel and fury, he lunged forward. His greatsword arced through the air like a reaper's scythe. The first knight barely had time to raise his shield before Raiden's blade slammed into it—
—and ripped straight through it.
Steel parted like cloth, bone shattered like glass. The knight's helm split open, skull cleaved in two, his body crumpling as his brains sloshed onto the ground with a sickening plop.
He sidestepped the attack, swinging his greatsword in a horizontal arc. The sheer power of the strike cut through two knights at once, their torsos severed cleanly as their upper bodies slid off in a gruesome display. The remaining knights closed in, but Raiden was already moving.
He pivoted, catching a sword strike on the flat of his blade before twisting it downward, trapping the opponent's weapon. With his free hand, he grabbed the knight by the throat and ripped. The sickening sound of flesh tearing and bone snapping filled the air as Raiden pulled the man's throat free from his body in one monstrous yank. The corpse dropped bonelessly to the ground, and Raiden admired his grisly trophy with a wicked chuckle before tossing it aside like garbage.
He surged forward like a hurricane, his greatsword whistling through the air in a brutal arc. The second knight similar to the first barely had time to raise his shield before Raiden's blade sheared through it like paper, splitting the man's helm in two. Blood sprayed in a sickening fountain, and the lifeless body crumpled to the ground.
The formation wavered.
Raiden didn't stop.
A spear thrust toward him—he caught it mid-air, twisting his body as he yanked the weapon forward. The knight who held it stumbled—just long enough for Raiden to drive his greatsword straight through his chest.
The blade erupted from the knight's back, organs spilling out like butchered meat.
Raiden twisted the sword before ripping it free, sending a wet splatter of blood across his own face. He licked his lips, tasting the copper tang, and grinned.
The remaining knights hesitated, fear flickering in their eyes. The commander snarled, gripping his longsword tightly. "Cowards! Surround him!"
"Come on! That all you've got?!"
The knights charged.
Raiden met them like a storm.
A shield shattered beneath his boot as he stomped down, crushing the arm beneath it into pulp. A sword slashed toward his ribs—he sidestepped, caught the knight's wrist in an iron grip, and twisted—
Bone snapped.
The knight screamed as his arm bent the wrong way, the bone piercing through flesh like a jagged spear. Raiden let go—only to drive his fist through the exposed gap in the man's helmet.
Fingers dug into soft flesh.
He grabbed the knight's face and pulled—
Skin ripped. Teeth cracked.
The knight squealed like a pig as Raiden tore off half of his face in a gory, pulpy mess.
The corpse dropped, twitching.
Blood dripped from Raiden's gauntlet.
Another knight came at him with a warhammer—big mistake.
Raiden sidestepped the downward swing and drove his elbow into the man's throat. The knight choked, staggering—Raiden grabbed his arm and wrenched it backward.
A loud, wet POP! filled the air as the shoulder joint dislocated grotesquely.
The knight fell to his knees, retching in pain. Raiden placed a boot on his back and shoved, sending him face-first into the mud.
And then, without hesitation—
He grabbed the back of the knight's helmet and started pulling.
The body convulsed as Raiden wrenched the man's head backward with raw, monstrous strength.
Sinew stretched. Vertebrae cracked.
Then—
RIIIIIP.
Raiden tore the knight's entire spine from his body.
Bone and flesh dangled from his gauntlet like a grotesque trophy.
The remaining knights stumbled back in horror.
"RUN!" one of them screamed.
Raiden lunged.
He grabbed the fleeing knight by the waist, hoisted him into the air, and slammed him down so hard his skull EXPLODED against the ground like a melon.
Six knights charged at once, spears and swords gleaming in the firelight. Raiden's grin widened.
Raiden giggled like a maniac before he started counting.
"Six" He flew towards the knight, stabbing the knight through his waist, pulling his ribcage out as he sliced upwards.
"Five" He dashed and vanquished his foe while choking him out. The remaining knights watched in horror as the DEMON smiled grotesquely.
"Four"
"Three"At this point he no longer seemed human, just a being of malevolent malice and endless destruction, his voice feral with animosity.
"And then there were 2". The last two knights faltered, horror etched into their expressions.
Raiden stepped forward, his blood-soaked sword dragging against the ground, leaving a crimson trail in its wake. "Run," he suggested, voice dripping with amusement.
One knight turned to flee, but Raiden was faster. He grabbed the back of his helmet and slammed it against his knee, denting the metal and cracking the skull beneath. The knight twitched before going still, his body flopping lifelessly.
Blood and gray matter sprayed outward.
The last knight, the commander, stood his ground, shaking. His sword trembled in his grip.
"You... you're not human," the commander whispered.
Raiden tilted his head. His smile widened, his eyes burning with something primal.
"No," he murmured. "I'm war."
And then—
A single, final swing.
The greatsword cleaved through the commander's shoulder, splitting him diagonally from collarbone to hip.
The top half of his body slid off the lower half, intestines spilling onto the bloodied ground in steaming loops.
Silence fell over the battlefield.
Raiden stood amidst the carnage he had wrought.
The dead surrounded him—mangled, dismembered, reduced to nothing but meat. His chest rose and fell with exhilaration, his breath heavy, his body dripping with blood that was not his own.
Then, he threw back his head—
—and howled with laughter.
A sound wild and unhinged, echoing through the night like a beast reveling in the slaughter.
This...
This was freedom.
[Now drop those power stones or you're next]