Forsaken Hunter-Chapter 13: "Kneel or Bleed"

The atmosphere was thick with dust and the scent of blood, a suffocating miasma that clung to the lungs like wet ash.

The arena, once a lush patch of green, had been ravaged into a battlefield, its earth churned into a mire of mud and gore, stained crimson with rivers of blood that pooled and glistened under the flickering sky.

The echo of battle faded into an eerie silence, broken only by the faint drip of blood and the wind's mournful howl through shattered trees.

In the center of the chaos lay Beno Mark, his lifeless body sprawled against the dirt, a broken marionette in a macabre tableau.

Blood pooled around him like a painting, a dark, viscous halo spreading outward, soaking into the earth until it gleamed wetly.

His chest barely rose and fell, each breath a faint wheeze, a rattling gasp that bubbled with blood, the only sign he clung to life.

The brutal punch from the Goblin King's massive fist had shattered his skull, bone fragments jutting through torn flesh, his forehead caved in, a jagged ruin dripping crimson.

His neck bent at an unnatural angle, vertebrae snapped, a grotesque twist that made his head loll lifelessly.

His lungs, once full of air, were now scattered inside his chest cavity, shredded by the impact, blood seeping from ruptured vessels to flood his torso.

His vision was a haze of red, blood seeping into his eyes, stinging and blinding as he fought to stay conscious, his mind teetering on the edge of oblivion. It was clear:

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he was on the brink of death, a thread away from the void.

A faint twitch of movement, then the guttural roar of the Goblin King split the air, a primal bellow that shook the trees above, leaves raining down like ash.

Its massive chest heaved, muscles rippling beneath scarred, greenish-gray skin as it loomed over Beno's broken form, its bloodshot eyes glinting with savage triumph.

From his high throne made of skeletal remains, Rio stood and began clapping mockingly, his hands striking together with a slow, deliberate rhythm, his voice a dark melody that slithered through the hollowed-out space.

"Bravo, Goblin King. Bravo," he sneered, his voice dripping with mockery, a venomous edge that curled around every word.

The other goblins followed suit, their guttural laughter erupting in a cacophony of glee, clapping their clawed hands as if they'd witnessed a spectacle, not a slaughter.

Even Joy and Annie joined in, whistling in excitement, their shrill notes piercing the air, their faces alight with sadistic delight.

Charles Ragly, chained and bloodied, stared in disbelief, his voice trembling as he called out, filled with confusion and sorrow.

"Lord Rio, I trusted you... Why? Why did you deceive me like this?"

Rio paused, turning his gaze to Charles, his eyes narrowing with amusement. He grinned, a dark, twisted slash across his face, teeth glinting like a predator's.

"You trusted me?" he echoed, his voice darkening, sinking into a growl. "Fool! Not even my parents trust me.

How could you trust someone who lies through their teeth?"

The laughter from Joy and Annie erupted in unison, cruel and biting, a frigid gust that swept across the battlefield, chilling the blood-soaked air.

"What about Beno's hidden power?" Charles cried, his voice desperate, cracking under the weight of betrayal. "What about his evil side? Was that a lie too?"

Rio's mocking laugh cut through the air like a blade, sharp and relentless. "A lie? All of it, Charles. Everything. Our goal was never to awaken any so-called power. Our real mission was to kidnap you.

And as for Annie," he gestured toward her, his hand sweeping lazily, "well, she just wanted to have a little fun with you two.

See, you almost killed someone's brother, someone's lover, someone who actually cares. Hahaha, foolish brat!"

Charles' heart sank, plummeting into a pit of despair as memories of the bond between Luna and Beno flooded his mind—their laughter echoing through quiet nights, the warmth in their eyes like a hearth he'd never known.

His guilt gnawed at him like a hungry beast, teeth sinking deep, his body trembling as the full weight of his actions crashed down, a tidal wave of regret that drowned his resolve.

Outside the Dungeon Gate

Franky stood apart from the group of officials, his sharp eyes scanning the horizon, piercing through the gloom.

The air was thick with tension, a palpable weight that pressed against his chest, even the seasoned officials around him seeming uneasy, their whispers hushed and jittery. They had been waiting for two hours, yet no word had come from the teams inside.

The examination was meant to be straightforward—a controlled test, a proving ground for candidates. But something about this felt off, a dissonance that prickled his instincts.

The dungeon gate before him loomed, its massive stone frame cracked in places, faint fractures spiderwebbing across its surface like veins on a dying leaf.

It was no ordinary dungeon—its aura was a living thing, heavy and oppressive, radiating a danger that set his nerves alight. Franky's eyes narrowed. He'd faced countless missions, S-rank dungeons included, but this... this was different.

"Is this normal?" one of the officials muttered, her voice low, barely masking her anxiety as she shifted closer to Franky.

He didn't answer immediately, his gaze locked on the swirling energy pulsing from the cracks in the gate.

What had once been a calm, glowing blue now flickered, shifting into deeper hues of crimson, a subtle change that pulsed like a heartbeat. Franky's stomach churned.

He'd felt the power of S-rank dungeons before—foreboding, yes, but this was malevolent, a raw, primal force that rippled through the air, sinking into his bones like a warning carved in marrow.

He shook his head, muttering under his breath, "I must be imagining things," though his instincts roared otherwise.

The dungeon was tailored for students, its difficulty calculated—yet the feeling wouldn't relent, a gnawing dread that coiled tighter with every passing second.

He glanced at the officials, their faces etched with unease, eyes darting to the gate. They felt it too.

The Mockery Intensifies

Annie, her face twisted with mock sympathy, cooed, "Aww, our baby's crying. Want some milk, Charles? Maybe Beno's just a dead worm now, eh?"

Her voice dripped with venom, her golden eyes glinting as she leaned forward, savoring his despair.

Joy strode forward and kicked Beno's broken form, his foot making a sickening thud against the bloodied flesh, a wet crack as ribs gave way beneath his boot.

"What's wrong with you, worm? You alive, or are you just dead meat?" he taunted, his voice filled with cruel amusement, lips curling into a sneer.

Beno's eyes flickered open for a brief moment, his gaze hollow but burning with determination, a ember refusing to die.

He was consumed by darkness, his body covered in a mask of blood, the crimson flood obscuring his features, matting his hair to his shattered skull.

He could barely see, the world a red blur, but he could still hear them, their taunts slicing through the haze like knives.

Joy laughed, his tone condescending. "He's already dead," he mocked.

"Hey, King—go ahead and eat him. He's not worth your time."

Charles' pleas rang out, his voice breaking with desperation. "No, no! Please! He can be saved! Please, show mercy!"

Rio's eyes glinted with amusement as he turned toward Charles, shaking his head.

"Mercy? Mercy is for the weak. The King doesn't give mercy... because he's the King."

Annie stepped forward, her heels clicking on the dirt, a sharp staccato as she approached Charles, her tone suddenly cold.

"Your sister," she said, her voice laced with venom, "was killed by our master. Not by Beno Mark. She died because she was in the way of our true purpose—our master's purpose."

The words cut through Charles like a dagger to the heart, a blade that twisted and tore.

His entire world came crashing down, the betrayal a weight that crushed his spirit, the loss a void that swallowed him whole, the truth a poison seeping into his veins.

He collapsed to his knees, tears streaming down his face, carving trails through the blood and dirt caking his skin, his sobs raw and broken.

But before anyone could process this grim realization, a soft, almost imperceptible cough came from the bloodied figure on the ground. Beno Mark.

Joy's attention snapped back, his mocking grin faltering for a moment. "Is he still alive?" he mused, then kicked Beno's body once more, this time harder, the impact a dull thud as flesh gave way, blood spraying from the wound, eager to snuff out the pest that defied death.

This time, something within Beno stirred. His lips parted, blood dripping down his chin, a crimson river staining his teeth.

Beno parted his lips. His voice, deep and commanding, echoed through the chamber.

"Kneel... or bleed."

The Crimson Awakening

The Goblin King and goblins collapsed onto their knees instantly, their bodies trembling, claws scraping the dirt in abject submission.

Their instincts screamed for survival, primal fear overriding their bloodlust, forcing them into a bow so low their foreheads pressed into the gore-soaked earth.

Annie let out a shaky laugh, her voice trembling despite her bravado. "W-what's wrong with him?"

Joy's voice wavered, his confidence fracturing. "I... I don't know."

The words, though loudly audible, sent a wave of dread through the group. A heavy silence settled over the battlefield, the air thickening, the goblins' breaths hitching as they froze, their eyes widening in shock. It felt as though the very air had shifted, darkened, the temperature plummeting as the ground beneath them trembled with an ancient, unspoken power, a rumble that pulsed through the dirt like a heartbeat.

Without warning, Beno stood, his body moving like a shadow that tore through the silence, fluid and unstoppable.

His eyes, once dull and lifeless, now glowed a furious crimson, twin infernos that burned through the haze, radiating malice and wrath. The aura around him surged, blood-red energy curling around his form like a twisted storm, tendrils of power lashing out, crackling with a sound like snapping bones.

The dungeon itself seemed to react, the very walls echoing with the raw, oppressive power he unleashed, stone groaning under the strain.

Joy's face twisted in horror as he backed away, his voice faltering. "What... What is this? What's happening?"

But before he could react, Beno's hand shot forward, fingers extended as if clawing something from the air

. A pulse of energy erupted, a crimson wave that sliced through the space with a high-pitched shriek, invisible yet devastating.

SLASH!

Joy's arm was severed clean off, the blade of energy parting flesh and bone like paper. Blood gushed from the wound like a geyser, a torrent that sprayed across the dirt, soaking Annie's boots as Joy's agonized scream filled the dungeon, a raw, guttural wail that echoed off the walls—"AAAAAHHHH!!"

As Joy ran toward Rio, staggering and clutching the stump, his vision blurred, head spinning—up and down, up and down—before his head hit the ground, severed in a single, brutal instant. His last sight was his own headless body still standing, blood fountaining from the neck, limbs twitching as it swayed.

THUD.

His severed head rolled to the floor, eyes wide and frozen in terror, mouth gaping in a silent scream. Beno loomed over it, his glowing crimson eyes the last thing Joy saw before—

CRACK.

Beno's boot crushed Joy's skull, the impact a wet snap as bone shattered, brain matter bursting outward in a grisly spray, blood and bone fragments splattering across the floor, a crimson mosaic of ruin.

Annie vomited on the spot, her stomach heaving as bile splashed onto the dirt, her golden eyes wide with disbelief, hands trembling as she clutched her mouth, retching uncontrollably.

Rio's heart pounded wildly in his chest, a frantic drumbeat against his ribs.

Sweat dripped down his face, cold and clammy, pooling at his chin as for the first time, he understood true fear, a visceral terror that turned his blood to ice.

Charles watched in pure horror, his chained hands shaking, eyes locked on Beno—or what had once been Beno.

This wasn't Beno Mark. This was something else. A king. A nightmare. A monster.

The sky above the dungeon thundered violently, a deafening boom that split the heavens, lightning flashing crimson through the cracks in the gate outside.

The very air smelled of death, thick with iron and ash, a shroud that choked the living.

Beno turned, his crimson gaze locking onto Rio, unyielding and merciless, a predator sizing its prey.

Rio's body instinctively knelt, legs buckling as he dropped, his forehead slamming into the ground, a submissive bow driven by terror, his breaths shallow and panicked, sweat mingling with the dirt.

Charles, too, found himself kneeling, his entire body shaking, chains rattling as fear gripped him, his tear-streaked face pale, eyes darting between Beno and the carnage.

The remaining goblins fell to their knees in terror, claws digging into the earth, whimpers escaping their throats as they could feel it now—the terrifying presence of something ancient and powerful, a force they'd never anticipated, a king rising from the blood and ruin.

Rio's eyes widened as he felt the overwhelming pressure, a weight that crushed his spirit. The King—no, the true King—was rising.

He dropped lower, forehead grinding into the dirt, his entire body trembling in fear, a pathetic whimper slipping past his lips.

Annie, too, felt it. Her mouth opened in a silent scream, no sound escaping, her vocal cords paralyzed by dread.

She could only stare, her body rigid, golden eyes dilated, hands twitching as if to flee but unable to move, rooted by the terror radiating from Beno.

And then, as if the world had stopped, a voice like thunder rang out across the battlefield.

"Those who mock the King... do not deserve even a single peaceful moment."

Rio's eyes snapped to the blood staining Beno Mark's boot, the realization crashing down like a tidal wave, drowning him in dread. Joy's crushed skull, the gore beneath Beno's heel—he didn't even give Joy a peaceful memory of seven minutes' death.

The words Beno had spoken echoed in his mind: "Kneel or bleed." It wasn't a choice. It was a decree. The terror that surged through him froze him in place, his breaths hitching, chest tight with panic.

The ground trembled as Beno Mark, now a figure of absolute authority, slowly walked forward, each step a thud that shook the earth, his presence suffocating, a calm before the storm, the calm before annihilation.

He approached the skeletal throne, his blood-red aura causing the bones to vibrate, rattling under the weight of his power, dust cascading from the frame.

Thunder cracked in the sky, the forest igniting in flames, trees erupting in an unholy fury, fire licking the heavens with crimson tongues.

Beno reached the throne, his blood-red aura surging, a storm of energy that warped the air, and he sat down slowly, the bones creaking as they bowed beneath him, his gaze sweeping over the trembling figures of Rio, Annie, and Charles.

"You," Beno began, his voice cold and commanding, a blade of ice that cut through the silence, "will learn the true meaning of mercy."

And with a single, pointed gesture, he raised his hand. His eyes locked onto Rio, crimson burning into his soul, and in that moment, the forest fell silent, the world holding its breath.

[End of Chapter 13]

Hey readers, I've been working all night on this scene, pouring every ounce of energy into making sure you feel the terror and get those goosebumps. I really hope it gave you the chills. If you liked it, please share it with your friends and leave a comment! What do you think Beno Mark will do next? Will he show mercy, or is the worst yet to come? I'd love to hear your thoughts and predictions!

See you on next Chapter. :)