Unholy Player-Chapter 112: The Monster

"Wh-Who are you?" The man’s voice trembled along with his body as he took a few steps back from the shadowed figure.

"How rude. We just met earlier today, did you already forget?" Adyr stepped out of the darkness, his voice casual.

The moment the man recognized the face and the uniform, he froze. The trembling stopped, and the fear on his face gave way to anger. "What the hell are you doing on my property?" His voice was loud and threatening.

Clearly, the fact that the intruder was Adyr had brought him a sense of relief.

"Come on, you can’t treat a guest like that. Sit down, let’s have a little chat," Adyr said as he grabbed an empty tin box from the side, flipped it over to make himself a seat, and sat down. He gestured for the man to join him.

"Are you nuts? Didn’t you hear me? I said, get the fuck out!" The man shouted, even angrier now. He grabbed a piece of firewood and raised it threateningly.

But Adyr ignored him. He calmly reached into the boiling water, pulled out a potato, and took a bite without even peeling it, unfazed by the scorching heat. "Hmm. Tastes good."

The man froze, glancing down at the firewood in his hand. After a moment, he lowered it and set it back where he found it. His voice came quieter this time, almost pleading. "You can’t just eat my food like that. That’s all I’ve got. I’ll starve."

He wasn’t lying. In a place like this, no one shared food or water. Everyone barely had enough for themselves.

"Don’t worry. Just sit. You can have the other one," Adyr said, taking another bite. He reached back into the boiling water and pulled out the second potato, holding it out. "Take it. It’s really good. Whoever grew these knew what they were doing."

The man hesitated for a moment but still took the potato. "Hot," he muttered, then dropped it to the ground.

The instant he felt Adyr’s gaze on him, something primal kicked in. It was the kind of stare a starving wolf might give its prey—calm, yet ready to bite. He quickly snatched the potato off the floor and sat down beside him.

As he rolled it between his hands, trying to cool it down, Adyr’s voice returned.

"Now tell me what you know about the Cannibal."

The man’s body trembled. Not from the heat, not from the cold, not even from Adyr’s presence—but purely from hearing the name.

Adyr noted the reaction and continued eating. The man definitely knew something.

"I don’t know anything," he said at last, averting his gaze.

"Does he come here often?" Adyr asked casually.

"I’ve never seen him," the man replied, lying again.

"Do you fear him?" Adyr asked, popping the last piece of his potato into his mouth.

The man was still trembling, his eyes unfocused. "Y-You don’t want to know him. Just leave."

"I actually do want to know him. Even meet him. Just tell me where he is, and I’ll go," Adyr stated calmly. freeweɓnovel.cøm

"I can’t. If I say anything... If they find out, they’ll see me as a snitch..." His voice faltered, the trembling growing worse. The fear in him was palpable.

This won’t work. Adyr studied him, noting just how deeply the fear of the Cannibal ran. He knew a hundred ways to force a man to talk, but trauma this deep would take time to unravel.

He needed something to break that fear first.

"What would he do if he found out?" Adyr asked, a smile appearing on his face.

The man looked up, meeting his eyes. His voice barely came out. "Eat... alive... He’s a monster." Memories flickered behind his frightened eyes, scenes he’d clearly lived through.

"So you’re afraid because he eats people, huh?" Adyr chuckled and slowly rose to his feet.

Without warning, he grabbed the man by the throat and lifted him off the ground, bringing their eyes level. Leaning in close, he stared into the man’s widening eyes.

"Is he really that scary?"

The man struggled to break free, but Adyr’s grip was as unyielding as iron.

"Let me go," he gasped, barely able to speak through the pressure on his windpipe.

His limbs flailed helplessly, boots scraping against the floor in panic. Then he heard it.

A sound.

Wet. Sharp. Wrong.

It crept into his ears like a knife sliding through raw meat—a sickening, sinewy tear that cut through the silence of the firelit room. His eyes snapped upward.

Something was rising from Adyr’s bare shoulders.

White bone pushed through skin with unnatural grace, gleaming like polished ivory. Each ridge unfolded slowly, deliberately, like the slow blooming of some alien parasite.

"W-What are you?" He stammered, horror overtaking him.

He watched, paralyzed, as the skeletal structures expanded outward, scraping against the walls with a screeching, chalk-on-stone hiss. Then the bone shifted. Skin slithered over it. And feathers began to form—ghostly white, unnaturally clean, catching the firelight as if they had never touched dirt or blood.

In the man’s eyes, they weren’t wings. Not truly. They were something imitating wings—something profane, a grotesque parody that mocked the divine.

"Wait—" he began, but his voice was crushed under the weight of the moment.

Adyr’s voice came softly, like a whisper laced with razors. "So you’re afraid of monsters."

Then he lunged.

With surgical precision, Adyr sank a perfect row of gleaming teeth into the man’s shoulder. Not just biting—rending. The mutant’s jaw tore through cloth and flesh in one smooth, violent motion, carving down to the bone.

"Aaaagh!" The man shrieked in raw, unfiltered agony, his scream cracking into something animal. He writhed like a dying pig beneath a butcher’s knife, but Adyr’s grip never loosened.

The flesh tore free with a sickening pop. Adyr spat it aside.

Blood sprayed across the floor in long, dark arcs. Steam rose from the wound in the cold night air. The man sobbed, spasming in his grip.

"You... you’re a monster..." he choked, the words sticky with blood and disbelief.

Adyr smiled—calm, detached, as if hearing a long-awaited compliment.

With his free hand, he cradled the man’s head, gently, almost tenderly. His black eyes stared into the man’s, pupils dilated, unblinking. He felt the heat fading from the trembling body in his grasp. Felt the shivers slow.

"No," he whispered, each word brushing against the man’s face like a dying wind. "What you’re seeing isn’t the monster. It’s just the shell that keeps it chained inside."

The man’s body stiffened in place, frozen.

Adyr continued, his tone cold and deliberate. "But I’m not entirely innocent either. I was the one who accepted it, fed it, cherished it. Until it grew too large. Too much."

For a fleeting second, something flickered in Adyr’s expression—a shadow of something buried, something older than guilt. Older than hate. A memory twisted so deep it burned the edges of who he was.

And then it vanished.

His smile widened, blood staining his lips, his teeth red and glistening under the firelight.

"Now," he whispered, voice low and reverent. "Do you want to see the monster?"

With those final words, the man surrendered what little consciousness he had left to pure fear. His body went limp in Adyr’s hands, not even registering the warm, foul-smelling stream running down his legs.