The Last Primal

Burly men donning reinforced, sleeveless leather armor and metal arm guards formed a circle around Sara's group of adventurers and Captain Don's band of mercenaries. For the last hour or so, ever since the arrogant, but unfortunately quite talented noble boy greeted them, they have been on a downhill slope. 

The theatrics have quickly fallen apart, it didn't take more than just 15 minutes before the two sides exploded and turned the ruined ancient city street into a bloody battle.

The young Lord Bartholomeo Diaz, the 'Third' as he preferred, was now hauling a long exotic blade, a lavish-looking saber with a gemstone adorned golden hilt, swinging with terrifying precision, each strike hurling a cry, a bloodcurdling roar.

The previously innocent-looking lean and tall young man that just trudged the brightest years of his life, his twenties were now looking like a demon. The more his enemy's blood smeared his previously perfect visage, the more sinister and twisted the smile grew on his face. The upward curving crescent-shaped eyes revealed the horrific nature of the monster lurking beneath his flesh.

The more she looked at this monster, the more she felt that the rumored nickname of the 'Twisted Tormentor' wasn't just an exaggeration made up by his enemies to tarnish his reputation, but was actually the true nature hiding behind all that facade, all that bravado.

Slash after slash, blood spurted in his wake like fountains, bathing him more and more, turning his appearance into that of a crimson nightmarish fiend. His milky white perfect smile only added more to his horrifying outlook.

"My, my… Miss Sara, may I ask for a dance?" Suddenly he spoke up, amidst two back and forth horizontal slashes that were blocked by his two opponents.

"What the… What are you even talking about?!" Caught unprepared, Sara exclaimed with shock upon the outlandish question. "What dancing? Are you alright in the head Young Lord?"

Young Lord Bart seemed surprised by Sara's question. He sliced diagonally at the men on the left with a raised fervor, causing the man to be unable to parry the block despite raising his sword against it. 

The thick blade of the sabre sliced through the much lower quality short sword, riding the wave down towards the hilt tearing the Silver Howl Mercenary's hand in the process. The man cried out with pain, as he instantly released his grip over the blade, and faltered a few steps backward.

However, this was a fatal mistake on his part, even though it wasn't intentional on his part. The opening this reaction has created was more than enough for Bart to capitalize on it. A sudden thrust plunged deep in the chest cavity of the man, going through the weary chest armor without too much effort. 

As the tip of the blade plunged deeper into the man, the bloodcurdling roar replaced the previous tear-filled one, soon transforming into a more subtle version as the life and energy slowly, but gradually left him.

Yet, this wasn't enough for the twisted man, he pushed down on his weapon after digging a couple of inches, tearing apart the entire upper torso of the man. Guts and the man's intestines were spilled as the poor warrior have breathed his last.

"This… Can you hear it? The music… These cries… Aren't you feeling it in your feet, Miss Sara?" Suddenly, the twisted, crimson asura spoke up, casting his gaze towards the direction of the purple-haired girl standing in the middle. His deep-set cognac eyes glimmered with the pure lust and excitement he was currently basking in.

"Y-you… you are a Monster…" Sara muttered, her face contorted into pure disgust and an equal amount of horror upon witnessing such a gruesome scene.

"Awww, don't be like that, Miss…" He asked, the smile not leaving his face. Twisting his body, he spun around his axis, facing the partner of the previous duo who was still standing. With a casual upper swing, he was in the heart of it once again. 

At the same time, as if he was just exercising he continued with his teasing.

"Why bother about these ants? Who cares about them? Dead or alive they have just as much worth… From all of these… wretched… disgusting… creatures… Only you and I have any real value!" He spoke, emphasizing each word with a swing of his weapon.

Worthless mercenaries, warriors for hire… Even the servants I hired… Nothing will change be they left alive or culled like pigs!" He exclaimed with a wide smirk besmirching his face.  action

The pure disdain, the condescending attitude he displayed was his true nature. The previous display he showed was just a mask hiding the cruel, twisted dark soul that resided inside him.

The blood that continued to bathe him, painting his entire figure into that of a crimson demon, he revealed a face full of euphoria. He was almost cathartic.

"In any case, I guess this is the end of the road for you mongrel!" He sneered, parrying the incoming short sword of the mercenary, and struck forward. The look on his face as he looked forward to ending yet another worthless, menial life was disgusting to look at.

However just as the tip of his sabre was about to pierce into the studded vest of the mercenary.

A huge shadow swooshed by, a humongous war axe swung by, pushing the attack to the side, causing it to graze by just by a hair's breadth.

"Hey, arsewipe! Let me join in on the fun!" Hollered a familiar-looking figure, looking similar to the crazed Young Lord.

Naybeah's fur clothes were drenched crimson with the blood of Lord Bart's soldiers. Like the young lord, she too reveled in these situations, the more gruesome, the more brutal it turned into, the better she felt, the more she could let go of all the restraints that were holding her back. The more she could unleash her true nature and shed all this useless nature that was the chains of a civilized society.

"You wanted to dance, right? Come, let me lead you then, you disgusting brat!" She sneered, picking up and swinging her axe at him without a second wasted.

Although the Young Lord was caught off guard by the new joiner, he merely snorted coldly, before jumping backward and ducking down to evade. As a response, he jumped up just as the war axe passed by, lounging his body with a weapon first at the bloodied amazon. 

Yet, he said no words, he didn't offer a riposte at the taunts and the sudden attacks. He wasn't smiling, but a deep frown was set on it that slowly, but surely contorted into a hideous scowl.

The sudden appearance of Naybeah seemed to have made the Young Lord wary…

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>>>Check out my latest : The Strongest Demon Lord in the Modern World<<

It's an urban modern-day styled story, with a reverse transmigrated ('Banished') immortal entity from the fantastical world of Nova!

Planned Tags and Genre:  # CULTIVATION  # R18  # BETRAYAL  # TRANSMIGRATION  # URBAN  # ACTION  # ANTIHERO  # OVERPOWERED (romance maybe at some later point)

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