Chapter 9

  A Walker? It was just a silly little child.

  The man pointing at William tried to shout at him, but all that came from him were huffed words. He was still scared, but William surprised him enough that his voice leaked.

  That was a costly mistake tendril—a tendril flicked from somewhere, whipping fast and powerful movement.

  It took a beat for that hand to point somewhere else. Stretching noises shook the buildings and the man saw no hand anymore. Just a stud, bone, blood, and something missing. That tendril stole his hand or ate it, or dragged it away where no survivor dared to look.

  Shock? The man had no time for that because the pain and fright became his sole spectrum and clouded his mind. The messed-up flesh around his elbow couldn't leave his eyes.

  Blood splurged. So much blood. It left the group frightened and the man screamed in panic more than in pain. Then, the group made their move by shoving their hands over his head. It was a matter of life and death, so they almost beat him up to remain silent, though the noise still dropped, and his hand was no more.

  It was too late to even try. Killing him wouldn't solve anything, as right there, scrapping noises started to click and red droplets started to rain. Each person below held no point in life. It was too damn expansive since that hand disappeared way too fast. Maybe... more hands will soon follow.

  Which Darks adored the hands?

  Well, it wasn't as if this idea was respectable.

  Bitting their lips, clutching their fists and the man's mouth, the group watched blood rain. They dropped to their faces, hair, filthy bodies, and around them, including the trashcans. There was a lot of it, but not much in range. The boy before them was safe, for example. They struggled with the huffing man when the smell and hideous groan spread next.

  Silent and with utmost horror, the man with the remaining hand looked up, still clutched by the other people around him.

  It was a sorrowful Dark full of craziness and power outside of a normal person's scope of understanding. The man thought of his upcoming horror and felt so wronged he wanted to cry.

  He thought.

  A monster with horrific features, size, and blood glanced down from the roof, resting above and up between the buildings. It had a massive head with four thick and large limbs many times its head's size. They were coming from that head, making this Dark appear like an oddly shaped spider; if the spider was more than a dozen feet large, and its limbs made up the majority of its size even when the head was so big.

  Those limbs resembled human arms and looked thick like pillars, with less obvious knuckles, and their filthy colorations and poor skin displayed how many Darks looked like. These were not shrill and lacking in flesh; they were bulging in strength and capable of snatching bodies and shattering them like buildings.

  Carnijaw was a piece of bad news as it stood on top of those buildings, each limb touching a different roof and its head glared straight down, dropping blood from its hideous twitching mouth. It was laughing, for there was a great prey below. Its head seemed to be its whole torso, with its mouth being at the center.

  Multiple dark eyes filled with veins above the mouth looked at the group with contempt and joy. Still, this Dark had already eaten its fill, obvious by the blood dripping from its chewing mouth.

  The carnage was Carnijaw's nature, noted by its name. The jaw was a straight-up atrocity, smiling with countless sharp teeth and looking wide enough to swallow a man whole.

  Many long tendrils were around its head, gliding down like hair, but they were thick and muscular, capable of flexible movement, extensions, and touch. They could support quick moves, grab things, or support movement. Each tendril ended in a denser structure, either with a dull or sharp edge or end.

  Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  “We are... so fucking dead.” Mark from the group declared.

  Tendrils flickered in a moment, unleashing quick and long-range gushing motions that sliced the group from the handless man. He fell to the middle of the alleyway, bathed in blood, and he heard screams and flickering strikes that pushed against bodies, laughable weapons, and walls.

  Panicking, he fled. He didn't want to see the flying heads or hands of those people, nor that cursed Dark. He didn't want to hear the crunching sounds of human bones becoming food, or blood becoming liquor either.

  He ran quickly for someone shitting their pants. Soon, he was close to that corner after almost stumbling over the corpses on the way.

  Then dozen feet. Still dozen... “Why is the corner so far?” he asked himself, noticing he stopped moving and feeling things.

  He tried to move his legs and failed even though he was a great runner. His legs should be pushing him to run and move. Well, his legs weren't where they were supposed to be. Where did they go? He didn't understand. There were only studs under his knees that moved in puddles of his blood. He no longer felt pain, and the blood loss was excessive, unlike his emotional hysteria.

  “Well... sh--” His sight turned in a circle. He was free! He flew up, and then down to the ground. A head fell from the headless man who couldn't even run, think, or clap.

  Not like he had to consider it further since his head was no longer thinking of its free will.

  Now, it was just food; Carnijaw's favorite.

  Satisfied, Carnijaw almost smirked, if it could be called that thanks to its hideous mouth. It looked down at those remaining pests, pained, cut, and bleeding people. They were screaming in terror, lost limbs, penetrated flesh, and flowing blood. Their bodies were good just a few moments ago.

  Now, in the fear of death, the adrenalin remained and they were yet to die. Screaming to their heart's content was all they could do, while a few even tried to flee, but it was to no avail.

  Freshness didn't matter much to Carnijaw, who was at Rank 5 of a hideous group and Family of Darks called Demons. Rank 5 wasn't an outrageous number. Numerous Walkers could kill it in a blink, yet where were those heroes and soldiers in such pressing times?

  Darks consume living beings to live, improve, and survive. It was their rule and part of their hunts for instincts. They were like predators at the top of their game where growth glazed their Madness.

  Carnijaw was happy, then cracked in an odd evil noise akin to laughter before a rather weird thing occurred. Carnijaw's jaw extended from the head and opened, flickering a thick tendril from yet another jaw. At the end of this tendril, teeth cluttered like a sword and bit onto a man. In a moment, he disappeared and became minced meat after the tendril returned.

  William didn't see or hear those crunching noises but probably heard those closer screams. They were lost in buzzing or noises that weren't much different. He kept pushing his hands on his head, hoping the noise would disappear, and this nightmare would pass.

  Even when the first prey was over, the second soon followed. Then the third sometime later. Chewing kept going while Carnijaw ensured no prey escaped.

  To anyone's surprise, the last one bled to death. Mark was no coward and shoved a knife into his neck, which was better than watching, waiting, or witnessing this slaughter.

  Not even an experienced soldiers would get it.

  More crunching sounds followed, leaving blood, bits of flesh, and bones dropping to the ground. Carnijaw liked flesh and blood the most, second to the brain of course. Bones were nasty. They didn't taste like anything, and its preferences were high.

  But everything could be food.

  Feast the living! Some Darks had their tastes like people and animals. Perhaps this Carnijaw didn't like to eat bones, but most loved it as their thick and savage teeth spared no expenses in nutrients. It spat most bones to the ground, or into the convenient trashcans down below.

  Five minutes passed since the feast started. William remained in the same position, silent and oblivious to the death before him. Even when some blood ended up on himself, or bits of bones fell close, he didn't care.

  His hand did and stress rose higher until some hyperventilation occurred. It was far from being over. He feared it would keep going forever. There was no chance until it started to resemble something. Tests. Stay in those rooms when lost and run away or endure dangers. That sort of thing happened a lot.

  He lied this was the same and gave rise to ignorance and confidence that his mother would come back if he succeeded. Or he was back to dreaming, but that wasn't the case. He went deep...

  William was a kid hurt by time. He couldn't do that here, let alone Awaken and matter. It wouldn't happen out of nowhere, which was the worst aspect that hindered humanity for more than seventy years. Even if he was back, this fact didn't change.

  Born with the Emblems, the rules of this new era stirred many matters. Wake of the Grand System was the worst and best depending on who was asked, but it gave fate a new path no matter what.

  William didn't need to see anything back then. He was too young, while his mother was always there for him. Always... Until she wasn't and Carnijaw started to sense his existence.