CONTENT WARNING:
This chapter contains descriptions that may be disturbing.
If you're eating, you might want to think twice before reading.
Ashen climbed onto the giant creature's body, trying to reach the massive spear driven through its chest. He wanted to examine the ancient runes etched along its shaft—perhaps clues to the one who felled this monstrosity.
Meanwhile, Kai and I circled around, inspecting the corpses scattered throughout the ruins.
We stepped slowly among these time-covered bodies, each footstep a struggle to steady myself, to resist fleeing this nightmare.
These corpses… were not decaying.
But the worst part was—they seemed to be breathing.
One body had a skull split and crudely sewn together with giant fingers, forming a gaping mouth across the forehead. Inside lay writhing, tongue-like innards.
Kai's torchlight caused them to twitch—I shivered.
Another chest cavity was torn outward—not by a blade, but as if something inside grew its own teeth and burst free, turning its ribcage into a jagged maw of jagged bone.
One corpse was three times the size of a normal person, muscles bulging like a warrior's, but its skin was torn with dried blood seeping from every crack.
Another… moved as I passed. Not a finger, not an eye—but something slithering under the skin, like an undead serpent.
I crouched to inspect one relatively intact corpse—then froze.
Behind it, something immense—dark and slick—lay motionless.
I thought it was a shadow, until I realized: this was a massive slab of flesh, glistening like it was freshly torn from some colossal beast's guts.
Its surface quivered… as if breathing.
And I saw the bodies again.
They weren't lying upon it—they were embedded in it.
Limbs twisted. Faces frozen in silent screams.
In some, only half the face remained; the rest had dissolved into the slimy membrane.
My legs gave out. I staggered.
Then—the mouths began to open.
Not just one. Not two.
Dozens. Hundreds of them, dotting that flesh slab.
Some were so large that I could see rib bones inside. Some barely groaned; others shrieked like suffocating infants.
They… were eating. But did not chew.
They swallowed. But did not digest.
They kept everything preserved, as if demanding someone watch.
Then—the stench hit me—
Not just death, but the smell of crushed corpses, mingled with dried blood and something unnatural. The scent of decay turned into pure malice.
I vomited, my stomach twisting.
Kai rushed over, worried.
"Are you okay, Mira!?" he cried, catching me.
I couldn't speak—my hand trembled, pointing at that breathing mass. My eyes filled with tears—not from pain, but because my mind had shattered.
Kai followed my gaze and froze too.
The mouths continued to open, and now—they smiled.
Then—a deeper horror.
From that living flesh… something inside began moving. First barely—like a dead thing twitching beneath the skin.
Then—
THUD!
A brutal punch from within.
THUD!
Again.
The wet thudding of flesh from inside, soaked in blood and stench.
Those grinning mouths now screamed—not wails, but anguished roars, shrill enough to hushed the demons themselves.
A sound no human ears should bear.
A warning that it had awakened.
"GRKHHHHAAAAAEEEKKKH!!"
A guttural scream, hoarse and abysmal, leaking with rot and hatred.
Then—it broke out.
A blow tore the flesh slab open, creating a gaping, red maw—like a living wound exposing twitching guts below.
Thick, viscous fluid gushed forth—dark pink sludge like old blood mixed with something unholy.
Then… body parts:
– A hand.
– A head, eyes still flickering.
– Rib fragments gnawed down to pulp.
– A leg, still shoed.
Kai whispered, voice strained:
"It's not done yet…"
And it wasn't.
It began to slither out.
At first, a single glossy, slimy form emerged, inching from the rotting flesh. Then I saw the full horror:
It crawled on human arms—hundreds of them—cut from corpses and grafted randomly along its length.
Interspersed were human legs, disjointed and twitching, as if someone stitched limbs onto a giant worm.
Yet its belly… was far worse.
From neck to tail, it carried hundreds of human heads—eyes open, mouths agape in silent whispers. Some headless; some with horns; some unrecognizable.
Then the real head lifted.
At the peak, the creature's head was that of a baby.
Pale, cracked skin. Clouded eyes. A tiny mouth drooling.
It tilted to one side—unsteady in motion.
Then—it spoke.
A child's voice echoed—fragile, broken, as if from a rotting throat:
"Mom… I'm hungry."