by Greg Wilburn
snap. And something that had been apart of him all along had finally broken free. It wasn’t only the fact that he was a half-breed exiled from everyone and everything that fueled him anymore. It was a purely sinister and animalistic hate for himself and everyone around him that still stood breathing that made him desire death and destruction to all. Every breath from anyone, Limphel or Mentil alike, was mocking him, pushing him deeper into the dark abyss he’d already thrown himself into.
In his newfound freedom, Daleli spit out anything pure and succumbed to the filth of his new existence. He truly became a monster, unrecognizable to all. This gave him unbelievable strength, amplifying all of his skills and anger to the breaking point, and he used these powers to propel himself to the site of the peace meeting in mere seconds.
Daleli clmbed up the spiraling tower glistening in the heart of the city, smashed through it at the peak, and landed right in the middle of the gathering. All males present stood there in awe, terrified of the horrific being before them. It sent waves of fear through them, despite its small, heaving frame. The sixty-four males sitting around the table were completely unprepared for the wrath in Daleli’s blades.
Daleli said nothing. There was no need for words anymore. All that left his mouth as he unsheathed his blood-caked blades was a low growl, reminiscent of a demon king released by Baphmotell, the god of death. As each male rose, reaching for his weapons, Daleli commenced with the onslaught of death he’d been awaiting.
He ripped through everyone there, snarling fiercely as he separated bones from flesh. No one stood a chance against the enraged Daleli. For the males present, the whole event seemed to flash by in an instant, but for Daleli, the whole massacre happened in slow motion, allowing him to revel in each passing second where his swords swept lives away. Blood sprayed all over the room and upon Daleli, leaving the room a dripping wet mass of red.
There was no time or room to distinguish Mentil from Limphel. Daleli killed every single person there, sustaining no injuries. After the bloodbath ended, Daleli dismembered everyone there, taking extra time to slowly carve curses into Hanlem’s body, and left the parts mounted about the walls of the room similar to hunting trophies displayed over a mantle.
And as Daleli stood there, covered in waves of innocent blood, he realized that the new nature he thought he’d released had always been a part of him, lurking in the darkness of his heart, waiting to finally be free.
He looked around the blood-soaked trophy room and smiled. He licked his lips and let the life forces of the slain fuel the intense hunger he felt rising through his body, forcing him to quake with anticipation for more. And as the inner self he’d hidden for so long continued to break free and grow stronger, Daleli slashed his swords in front of him and flew out the door into the inner city of Dimraen howling, readying himself for the massacre to come.
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Thank you for taking the time to read this story. I hope you enjoyed it and will look forward to more stories that come.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
To my family, for all of their support and encouragement.
