Void Spawn

CH4-Realization

Samael could feel every fiber of his muscles twitching and that burning desire to destroy. He could sense the wind weave, the rustling of the grass, and the particles of dust that stirred with his every movement. Yet, for some reason, he felt numb. He felt detached from his body, like he was shackled in a chair, and simply watching everything happen in front of a screen. And the worst part is that he didn't feel anything against them. He was scared, but he felt euphoric. He felt ecstatic as he killed the man. It was as if he was in a constant rush. Like he could take on the world and bring down everyone who blocked his path.

WHOOOOOSH!

The wind felt almost painful to his skin as it whipped his face, ruffling his already disheveled hair. His pale face, covered in lacerations accompanied by the lingering scent of blood, his visage almost demonic. His once black pupils now glowing eerie red in the darkness of the forest. Like a predator stalking its prey, but amidst all that, Samael heard a whisper that vanished as fast as it has come.

Samael... Do not lose yourself.

The boy gasped as he gripped his chest. His knees buckled as he hungered for air. His whole body felt burning; he felt heavy, and his shoulders slumped. Every movement a battle against pain.

But those weren't the boy's main concerns. Instead, Samael bore eyes on the blood puddle, shivering at his reflection. That feeling earlier, that sensation of great power... The euphoria that he felt for killing his kin...

It was horrific.

Confusion still clouded his mind as to what happened in the heat of that moment. Yet he remembered every detail and every feeling he had.

Samael glanced at his trembling hands and saw fragments of how he brutally killed the man. His eyes slammed tight in disgust. Maybe for himself or his actions. He didn't know. He understood none of this anymore. Was this really freedom? He couldn't help but question everything. How did this happen? Why did this happen? They were just like any other family. They slept, they worked, and they worshipped. What did they do to deserve such a fate?

Samael's untapped emotions came to a boiling point. All the pain, longing, agony, and anger he had felt slowly chipped through him. The boy's eyes dulled. There was only so much a kid could handle.

Samael rose to his feet. He collected his knives, and wiped off the blood using the coarse clothes of the dead man. His body felt afloat. Even the blistering cold of the night felt bleak to him.

Under the etheral glow of the moonlight, He marched towards the camp.

His fight wasn't over yet.

***

Back at the camp

A grin crept its way to the slavers face as he leisurely drank the last mug of beer. His black hair mixed with strips of white and his black eyes as dark as the night. He wore a murky white peasant clothes accompanied with a porcelain mask that hid half his face. He constantly swung his hook-like sword in an arc. Its steel edge marred crimson red.

RUSTLE... RUSTLE...

A few meters from him, the bushes rattled, and a small, feeble figure crawled out. His whole body bathed in blood and his vacant eyes dead.

The man's smile became distorted and soon morphed into a fit of hysterical laughter. Rising to his feet, he dusted off his clothes before muttering. "What a lovely night."

Samael stood unmoving as he watched the spectacle. His vision was already dimming, and everything felt hazy. He knew it was only a matter of time before he collapsed.