Jamari stands outside the castle, he looked down with fatigue, but then he looked to the side and saw a decaying corpse.
Next to it is a perfectly fine sword, Jamari sighs and grabs the blade, he wipes the dried blood off and looks at the castle.
"I'm coming Ellie..." he says to himself
The castle loomed before Jamari, its ancient stones etched with malevolence. The air crackled with dark energy, and he knew that within those walls, demons awaited, twisted, hungry, and eager to tear him apart.
But Jamari was no ordinary warrior. He carried the weight of vengeance, the blood of heroes and martyrs flowed through his veins.
His sword hummed at his side. Its blade shimmered with a silver fire, a beacon of hope in the abyss.
Jamari tightened his grip, ignoring the pain in his ribs, the souvenir of a previous battle. His skin bore scars, each one a testament to his resilience.
But this castle held secrets darker than any he'd faced before. The winding staircase spiraled upward, torches flickering along the walls.
Shadows danced, whispering secrets of betrayal and treachery. Jamari's breaths echoed, a cadence of determination.
He climbed, step by agonizing step, the weight of destiny pressing down upon him. The demons would come, they always did, but he would meet them head-on.
On the third floor, they attacked.
Their forms were grotesque, horns, claws, eyes aflame. Their laughter echoed, mocking his audacity.
Jamari swung his sword, each stroke a prayer to forgotten gods. The demons lunged, their talons raking across his chest.
Pain blossomed, but he fought on. His blade cleaved through flesh, and the demons dissolved into smoke, their malevolence dissipating.
Jamari staggered, blood seeping through his shirt. He pressed a hand to his side, willing the pain away.
The castle seemed to pulse, its heartbeat synchronized with his own. He climbed higher, driven by purpose.
The fourth floor revealed a chamber of mirrors, distorted reflections, half-truths. The demons slithered from the glass, their eyes hungry for his soul.
They whispered lies, of failure, of weakness. Jamari's reflection wavered, doubt gnawing at his resolve.
But he remembered Ghost Rider, his valor, his sacrifices. He shattered the mirrors, shards raining down like broken promises.
The demons screamed, their illusions shattered. Jamari's face was a mask of determination. He would not falter.
The fifth floor held a bridge, a chasm of darkness spanned by a single, fraying rope. The demons waited, their eyes glowing crimson.
Jamari stepped onto the rope, the abyss yawning below. His legs trembled, muscles protesting.
But he had faced worse, battles that scarred his soul. He balanced, inch by inch, defying gravity.
The demons lunged, their claws tearing at the rope. Jamari's fingers bled, but he held on.
The castle trembled, its foundations cracking. He reached the other side, collapsing onto solid ground.
The demons fell into the abyss, their screams fading. Victory tasted like iron and ash.
Jamari goes to leave the bridge but the best demon sword fighter named Ragon came out, Jamari is taken aback.
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The Slayer Of Slashers || Marvel x Horror
FanfictionJamari Warren seems to always be caught in the middle no matter what he does, He tries to move to Haddonfield a seemingly normal town but he's then attacked by a MUTHAFUCKA wearing a white mask, he then wants to go to camp to start over and when he...
