Down in the ravine, the feast of the herd had been going on. Mama Grath shoved the broken bodies in front of baby grath, and watched him eat with satisfaction. The sound was a rhythmic, sickening wetness... the sound of grinding bone and tearing gristle.
He didn’t look back at the remains of Drogg or the others. He felt no pity for them. They were the wolves who followed a bigger wolf, and in the end, they were simply eaten by the forest.
He turned his eyes back to the trail Vurok had left.
Sol stood up slowly. Mama Grath was busy tending to her baby and the other Graths were busy turning the remaining lackeys into fertilizer. So, they obviously wouldn’t follow Vurok.
"My turn," he murmured.
"Vurok survived the herd," Sol whispered, the words sounding less like human speech and more like the dry rattle of a snake in the brush.
A dark, terrifying grin spread across his face, pulling the skin tight over his cheekbones. It wasn’t a smile of joy; it was the baring of teeth, a predatory reflex.
"But he won’t survive me," Sol continued, his voice dropping into a jagged, lethal register. "He thinks he’s been through hell? He thinks those tusks and hooves were the end of it?"
Sol let out a low, vibrating chuckle...a sound that hummed deep in his chest, resonating with the Charcoal energy swirling within. He looked at the trail Vurok had left, the broken branches and panicked footprints screaming of a man who thought he had cheated death.
"It is going to be his biggest nightmare," Sol hissed, his eyes tracking the invisible path with a newfound, terrifying clarity. "I’m going to make him feel every ounce of the fear Drogg felt. I’m going to make him feel the weight of every friend he threw to the pigs. By the time I’m done with him, he would have wished... he would have begged
Compared to what Sol had planned, the boar stampede was a mercy. The boars were just animals; they killed with blunt force and primal rage. They were quick, and primitive.
And he? He wouldn’t be quick, he would make it slow, make it truly painful.
"The boars would have only taken his life," Sol murmured, his fingers ghosting over the jagged edge of his bone dagger. "I’m going to take everything else first. I’m going to let him see the monster he created."
He felt the Cobra hide pulse against his skin, the matte-black scales seemingly eager for the hunt. The "Modern Sol" was a ghost now, locked away in a dark room of his mind, replaced by something ancient and hungry.
He didn’t just want to kill Vurok. He wanted to undo him. He wanted to watch the arrogance melt into a pathetic, weeping puddle. He wanted to hear the exact moment Vurok’s soul broke before he finally fed on the remains.
Honestly, this wasn’t just about the massacre he had just witnessed; it was a debt that had been accruing interest for years, and the time for collection had finally come. It was for the girls. Vurok had dared to let the names of Lyra and her daughters fall from his filthy mouth like poison, speaking of breaking them and taking them as spoils.
He had treated them like property to be claimed, a stain on the air that only Vurok’s blood could scrub clean. That alone was a death sentence, an unforgivable transgression that turned Sol’s blood into ice.Even if setting aside the deep emotional bond with this body, he had already treated them as his own women, so how dare he even think about them.
But even more than that, it was about the humiliation. Sol felt the phantom ache in his ribs, the stinging memory of every kick, every shove, and every mocking laugh Vurok had ever directed at him.
Most importantly, this was a debt to the dead.
Sol looked down at his hands, flexing the fingers of the body he now inhabited. This kill was for the "Original Sol"—the predecessor who had lived and died in a state of shivering, pathetic fear.
"This is for you," Sol thought, his hand tightening around the hilt of the bone dagger until the jagged, porous edges bit deep into his palm, drawing a thin line of red. "Consider this a payment for the body you left behind. I’ll make sure he pays for every bruise he gave you, every ounce of shame he forced you to swallow. I’ll make him scream for every tear you ever shed in the dark."
This was no longer just a hunt; it was Sol’s rite of passage into this cruel, untamed world.
In this primitive world, mercy was a sickness. Morality was a shackle. To truly live, to truly protect what was his, he had to shed the last remnants of the "civilized" man. He had to be the monster that killed the monsters. And killing Vurok would be the final seal on his transformation. It was the first step into a world where he was the one holding the blade.
"Run, Vurok," Sol breathed, a wisp of vapor escaping his lips in the cooling afternoon air. "Run as far as you want. It only makes the scent of your fear sweeter."
With a fluid, silent motion, Sol stepped off the ridge. He didn’t just move; he vanished into the gloom, a shadow among shadows. The Ash-Gray energy in his chest churned, cooling into a dense, metallic Charcoal that pulsed with every heartbeat.
There was no more guilt. No more hesitation. Only the cold, mechanical efficiency of the apex predator.
And of course, he didn’t follow the trail like a human. He moved through the brush like the Obsidian Cobra he had slain, sliding between the shadows, his senses dialed to a frequency that made the forest pulse. He could hear Vurok’s frantic, hitching breath even from far away—haa-haa-haa—he could even smell the disgusting acrid, sour musk of Vurok’s cowardice.
It was a trail as bright as fire in the darkness.
And for him, the hunt had officially begun.
A/N:
Damn! It was raining castles today, making this poor author extremely envious. Aghh! When will we also get a castle... Ahhhh.
Honestly, today books performance was simply abmysall, we have fallen in 180 range in bestselling for first time.
Let’s do something to simulate it again.
So, here’s the deal, you guys give gifts (the big ones) and I’ll do a mass release on Christmas.
How is it?.... No answer means ’yes’ . So, let’s do this!!!