Hell’s Scion: My Magical Family Doesn’t Know I’m the Antichrist (Villain Protagonist Isekai)

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Chapter 48: I Am the One Who Rings Death's Bell, Part 2

Sam had never been particularly lucky, but he couldn't believe that danger had come knocking at his window at this very moment.

For long seconds, he considered continuing to sway his hips, if only to avoid risking his life while his balls were loaded and ready to fire. Fortunately, reason returned, and he pulled out, trying to get dressed as quickly as humanly possible.

He had no idea who had come to mess with him. It could be the angel Castiel, returning quickly, perhaps sensing he was doing something deeply sinful under the sheets. It could be a servant of Satan with the mission to break him.

In any case, they wouldn't catch him with his pants down.

"Leave it. We don't have to hide anything," Christina said, still naked, not even attempting to put on clothes or at least cover herself with the sheets.

Leave it?

Did she think it was Violet, smashing the window to interrupt their incest? For starters, she would've most likely knocked on the door instead of breaking a damn window, but if only it were that simple. If only he could look out the window and see her angry and jealous. Then maybe he'd figure out a way to get her to join them in bed. But he was getting a little ahead of himself.

He approached the window and saw nothing through the shattered glass. Nothing at all.

It was a very dark night, but he thought he should've heard or seen something by now. He hadn't taken that long to react. Sam frowned. Was it Violet, after all, and had she run to hide, trying to keep plausible deniability? If it was an enemy, they would've tried to enter or at least waited there to grab him.

It wasn't perfect logic, but it made sense.

The enemy had already announced their presence by breaking the window, after all. If they could arrive unnoticed, if they had caught them in the act, why not try to kill them while they were distracted? Why hide?

"See? It was just her after all," Christina said. "Come back to bed with me; I still haven't..." She blushed as if they hadn't been doing all kinds of filthy things just moments ago. "Well, you know."

It made sense.

But logic, the attempts to predict the possible intruder, would only work if the person or entity in question also made sense. There were many things he couldn't know, many reasons to explain any discrepancy.

"You might be righ..."

Of course, he didn't even get to finish the sentence.

Of course, in that precise instant, the very moment he lowered his guard for even a fraction of a second, something grabbed him by the neck and pushed him back. Against the shattered glass of the window.

"Brother!" Christina shot up to help him, naturally unconcerned about her clothes.

Sam was suffocating.

That thing wasn't human. In a world where there were mages capable of all kinds of things, it might have been a premature judgment. But he felt it. What had him trapped was an inhuman creature like himself.

Christina tore the creature's arm off with her water magic, soaking him in the process, of course.

Sam breathed a sigh of relief. That had been too close. And he wasn't just talking about the lack of oxygen, not the glass shards embedded in his neck. He wouldn't die from something so minor.

Otherwise, he would've already been dead. Regeneration was one of the few powers he had gained during the massacre.

Of course, Violet and Christina hadn't had the time or opportunity to take him for medical attention. That would have raised too many suspicions.

The wounds inflicted by Blake and the angel Castiel had healed on their own.

Christina was now putting on her clothes. Apparently, she did care about her modesty after all. Good. He wouldn't have liked her fighting anyone stark naked. That body belonged to him. Her body, her breath, her heart. Every tear, every laugh, every drop of sweat.

But right now, I have other things to worry about, he thought. I already know that.

He glanced down. Towards the part of the arm that Christina had cut with her magic. He saw the blood, saw the skin and flesh torn apart, saw the bone gleaming amidst all that disaster, white as death. And it disgusted him. He had to admit it, as funny as that was coming from him.

He didn't have time to wonder why. When Christina finished dressing, although he wasn't sure she had put on her bra correctly, Sam positioned himself in front of her. Her knight in shining armor.

Another arm appeared in the window.

The intact one, he thought.

And then five more appeared, pushing.

They knocked down what was left of the window, but not just that, no sir. The damn wall too. More than a dozen people burst into his room, moving through the cloud of dust, trampling the debris.

Except "people" wasn't the right word.

It was obvious at first glance. There was nothing particularly disturbing, except for the guy missing half an arm who wasn't reacting at all while he kept bleeding wherever he went, but it was evident.

Their cold eyes. The coldness.

They weren't human, maybe not even living beings. They seemed like damn zombies.

They probably were. Whatever they were, he didn't think they possessed their own will. The interruption had been annoying, but in the end it was nothing to worry about. He could deal with some puppets right away. Crackles. The ice storm that had ravaged the Wright family began to form around him again.

The door burst open.

"What's going on he...?"

Needless to say, it was Violet. In a tenth of a second, she received the same treatment as him. A puppet grabbed her by the neck (it was as good a name as any right now), squeezing. Her neck immediately started to creak. She was enduring inhuman pressure.

But Violet was far from being in mortal danger.

The difference between Christina, him, and the puppets was obvious. The two of them only had ranged attacks while, no matter how strong they were, the puppets had to get close to harm anyone. And there weren't enough of them to overwhelm them by sheer numbers. So it wouldn't even be a fight.

Simply in the process of saving Violet he killed three more puppets.

Arms, legs, and guts flew easily. Necks, too. Except Violet's. She had fallen to the ground, her hand on her throat, massaging it, struggling to breathe. Christina helped her up.

"I have no idea what's going on here, but we need to get out of the house," Sam said.

Inside the building, the puppets could corner them with their power and speed with a bit of bad luck. But in the open field they would just be easy targets. They would fall en masse like flies.

They ran out without protest. Not through the window, the hole was big, but it was completely blocked by bastards.

They easily slipped away, passing through the living room and running down the hallway to the exit. The puppets chased them without making the slightest sound. Anyone would be screaming after losing a limb or two, or at least gasping, experiencing their last throes.

They looked human, but they were anything but that, and who the hell had sent them here? Satan, but Satan needed him alive.

After Christina and Violet? Did he think he would subdue him by threatening their lives? If so, he was much stupider than he had thought.

When push came to shove, he would choose himself, not them. Of course it would be a shame to have to do it after all the effort he had invested in manipulating them, but he could find equally or much more beautiful girls elsewhere. He would lose the taste of the sweet forbidden fruit called incest, but the truth is that sometimes he had trouble getting turned on by that, since after all they weren't siblings. Not really.

He hadn't lived with them, he knew almost nothing about them. It wasn't the same. If only he had the memories of the original Sam, he could see them as his sisters too, not just attractive women.

Unfortunately, that ship had sailed...

Or maybe not. I mean, it was the same body, the same brain, right? The memories had to be there somewhere. Maybe with some hypnotism or some kind of therapy he could unlock the memories, bring them to the surface. Or with magic because, damn, it was magic.

It wasn't very magical if it couldn't solve a small memory problem or almost anything he could think of, with the necessary tools and preparation. But well, he would try it, all in good time.

The puppets came out through the door, but not alone. They also knocked down the walls on the sides. Did they have some limited intelligence or was someone controlling them?

In any case, they had avoided grouping too much at the bottleneck point, but that wouldn't change the outcome of something that could hardly be called a battle. It was more of a cleanup.

They couldn't do anything until they were within punching distance, and they couldn't get that close. Therefore the result was inevitable.

He didn't need Violet and Christina's help, but they joined their forces with him, earth magic and water magic, and it ended even faster.

He had easily gotten used to the role, the destiny, imposed by his 'birth' in this world. From the beginning he had enjoyed murder, breaking a person with his own hands, whether mentally or physically.

Killing these puppets gave him no pleasure.

He didn't hate it either, but it didn't excite him.

Probably because they were nothing more than that, puppets. They hadn't come here of their own will, they couldn't feel pain, so of course there was no pleasure. What sadistic pleasure could there be in destroying someone else's toys? That was for a child. He much preferred destroying the person in question.

A warm laugh without a trace of malice cut through his thoughts, like children playing in the park on a summer day, that is, an even innocent laugh. And despite that, or perhaps precisely because of that, a chill ran down his spine.

"Who's there?" Sam shouted, thinking it was the kind of phrase uttered by a nameless guard whose life was extinguished by the protagonist in an instant. Or something like that, run-of-the-mill henchmen.

In response, a woman emerged from behind the curtain of night.

And what a woman, wow wow, he almost whistled.

But unattainable, his brain quickly came to that conclusion. His relationship with Christina would probably survive his attempts to add Violet to the fun. After all, they were sisters, they were used to sharing, they were family, and besides, Christina would probably understand how that would smooth over all her older sister's problems and doubts.

This woman?

Even if he could bend her, subdue her, turn her into his toy? No, that would destroy the delicate balance, surely.

A shame, he thought. I can't climax and now this.

"I asked you a question."

The woman smiled.

Her lips moved to answer.

I Am the One Who Rings Death's Bell, Part 2: END

 

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Chapter 49: I Am the One Who Rings Death's Bell, Part 3

He didn't know why that monster had decided to get poetic, but at least it wasn't difficult to intuit what she meant. If Hell followed Death, then what preceded both things was War. The one who rang the bell as a signal that the party was about to start, an endless cascade of deaths.

"War," said Sam.

"Bingo," replied the woman, giving a small curtsy. Those movements accentuated everything worth accentuating. Her swan-like neck. Her large chest. Those long exposed legs, she preferred stockings that reached above the knee, but she wasn't too demanding either. She had the look of a mischievous schoolgirl.

Ahem. It was a serious moment, a matter of life and death. He should have other priorities, but his head was in the clouds. Or rather between her legs. But if he wanted to survive, he had to fix that quickly.

Sam took a deep breath. Everything unnecessary left his body. Behind only remained the killer intent. In an instant, he transformed into the God of hellfire that had devastated the Wright family.

"I thought you'd be a man," said Sam. "The four horsemen, after all."

"Well, no. We're four sisters."

"The apocalypse," murmured Violet. "My God."

"God has nothing to do with this," said War. The monster took a few steps forward, moving like a panther. Her boots made the grass crunch. There was something strange in the air. He should have noticed from the beginning, but it became more evident with each step. It was as if she was more alive, as if she was more real than all of them. And, therefore, required more oxygen than them. It was as if she was leaving them without oxygen.

"He abandoned the building a long time ago."

"Lies," said Violet.

"You can think what you want. You're just a background character, anyway. Everything revolves around that man. What do you say, Samuel?"

"Sam. I don't like how Samuel sounds. And I say, well... I say go to hell. Tell daddy that for me."

War laughed. He was completely focused on killing her, so it sounded like a deeply unpleasant laugh to him.

"Yeah, I imagined. This is just my job, boy. I don't want to be here any more than you do. I have no idea what Satan is planning. I mean, who would say yes? Who would give up their body for the rest of their life? I'd rather die instantly than be trapped inside my own body. Me and anyone else, for sure."

Satan's plan wasn't understood even by his subordinates. What did that say about him? Apart from the obvious, that he didn't tell them more than they needed to know? He had no fucking idea. How the hell was he supposed to guess?

"So, what now?" asked Sam. "Are you going to try to capture me? Risk that you can catch me even though you have to hold back, without being able to kill me?"

War smiled again, stopping.

"Yes. I'm perfectly capable. Enough talk."

Sam started running backwards, forming ice spears around him, which floated in the air for a tenth of a second before shooting out. They accelerated as they fell, if that wasn't enough. He had no doubt that she would be strong enough to withstand them and fast enough to dodge them, as had happened with Castiel. But unlike then, he wasn't alone, he had help.

So that bitch had more to worry about than his ice. Christina's water, shooting out like a whip to punish her, trap her, twist her. Violet making the earth tremble, raising dust clouds, throwing chunks of compressed earth. And in the midst of that, an ice storm.

It should be overwhelming, but he never dared to expect it to be effective. It couldn't be that easy, they were dealing with a damn horseman of the apocalypse, and it wasn't. But he would never have imagined to what extent.

There was no damage, not even any effort. War didn't even run to dodge all those attacks, but somehow none of them had reached her. Had she dodged them? Simply by walking forward, as if she were taking a quiet stroll? Sam felt a chill, again. What the hell had happened here?

"Well? Do you understand now the difference between us?"

No, and that was precisely what bothered him. What kind of power had she used? How to overcome something he knew nothing about? It was impossible, of course, except by chance! And he couldn't rely on luck in a fucking life-or-death fight.

"This changes nothing."

Maybe he couldn't defeat War, not now, not even with the other three powers he had as aces up his sleeve (yes, he had only gained four new powers from the massacre, whatever the reason). But War couldn't defeat him either. As long as Satan didn't rescind the orders to keep him alive, sooner or later he would escape from War's clutches and manage to gut her and the rest of her fucking sisters along with anyone who stood in his way.

Even a cornered rat would fight for its life, but that simply meant that War and the others would only fight when he had a serious chance of winning. As long as he couldn't do anything to her like now, War wouldn't go for the kill. A cold and logical judgment. After getting rid of everything unnecessary, he was incapable of making any other kind of judgments.

"No, I didn't expect it to. You're like your father," her voice was soft as silk, despite her nature.

"I'm nothing like him!" he exclaimed, offended. It was the reaction he was supposed to have, the correct reaction.

"If that's what you have to tell yourself to sleep better at night, go ahead. I wonder if this will change anything." The woman spread her arms to the sides.

An army of puppets emerged from the darkness of the night. Sam had to look towards the house to make sure the bastards they had torn apart hadn't reassembled while they weren't looking. The pieces and blood were still where they should be. Indeed, it was a new batch of puppets.

"So what? We took them out easily the first time. Even if you attack with them, they won't even serve as a distraction." Christina expressed what the three of them were probably thinking.

"Yes. You killed innocents very easily." A sinister smile.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Violet was the one who responded, Christina was too surprised for that.

"Haven't you ever heard? If it looks like a duck and sounds like a duck, it's a duck. They're not some kind of monster, they're people from a distant village. Under my total and absolute control, innocent at heart. No matter how much blood they've shed."

So they weren't anything special, after all. They were human beings that she controlled like a puppeteer. It didn't matter. Sam took a step forward, preparing to attack. The ice spears didn't fly towards their target. Christina stopped him before that, grabbing his arm.

"Wait! Didn't you hear her? They're innocents."

You knew Christina was young and innocent (that had been a significant part of the fun), that is, she was bound to be fucking stupid. But to such an extent? How the fuck did she intend to get out of this without killing those beings before they could do it to them? The guray hadn't been innocent.

The worst of all is that he might be forced to follow that stupidity. If he started massacring innocents in front of her, he would lose her. And with her, Violet, obviously. Or he could cut to the chase and forget about his toys once and for all. He could always find others.

He couldn't think of a diplomatic way to express his thoughts, so he just said it outright. She'd forgive him for it, assuming they made it out alive, given they were in a high-stress situation.

"How the hell do you expect us to survive this if we can't hurt War and you won't let me take out her army?"

Christina seemed surprised. That he had spoken to her that way, that he wanted to do it—she suspected it was more because of the former than the latter. The girl bit the inside of her cheek. It was obvious from how it sunk inward. She was biting hard enough to draw blood.

"I don't know, but it's not their fault. They're being controlled. We have to do something, brother."

"That's exactly why! Because I'm your brother! She won't kill me, but she doesn't need you. I have to think about your survival. I'll feel terrible after killing all those people. If I'm the only one who survives? I'll be dead inside."

"We can at least try. Please."

War and her small army were approaching slowly, but they were approaching. He didn't have time to think it over.

"Alright."

Fuck.

I Am the One Who Rings Death's Bell, Part 3: END

 

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Chapter 50: I Am the One Who Rings Death's Bell, Part 4

Sam frowned.

The desire to possess his sisters had overcome his common sense. If they killed War, in theory, the puppets should be freed from her control. Not for any special reason he knew of, but simply because of the logic that there would be no one left to give them orders.

The fact is that what Christina wanted wasn't an impossible mission, not at all.

In theory.

But between practice and theory, there was a gap as wide as life and death. Perhaps the confirmation that War was forbidden to kill him was the only reason he was willing to attempt this madness. To win this fight without getting his hands dirty with the blood of the innocent, or some other equally melodramatic way that Christina and Violet would undoubtedly express it.

Sam thought...

No, to think he needed information. So the only thing he could do now was buy time to gather that information. That is, to flee with his tail between his legs, shooting only at War, who was advancing slowly but inexorably along with her small army.

Only at her, it was becoming increasingly difficult to attack without causing collateral damage. Due to the rush, constant movement, tension.

And also because, damn it, it was night. He could see less than he would like, much less. To make matters worse, he was still no closer to deciphering War's trick than at the beginning.

No matter how quickly he attacked, no matter how accurate his shots were, the horseman of the apocalypse remained intact.

It was creepy. Sam had seen spectacular things since coming to this world, things that were obviously supernatural. That was the point. Something so subtle would inevitably give him goosebumps, precisely because of that.

It also made him wonder what would happen when the subtleties were dropped.

What happened when an unstoppable force collided with an immovable object? Nothing, obviously. They would repel each other, and everything would return to the beginning. It was no mystery. But that only applied if he could be the immovable object, and he couldn't. As long as he had to fear for Christina and Violet's lives, what was happening was that his defeat was approaching with each passing second. Inexorably.

Sam took a deep breath. He felt like vomiting. The pressure, an almost claustrophobic sensation. He was in an open field, but it was as if walls were closing in on him. The darkness of this night was as dense as a black wall, definitely.

A crunch. An explosion of blood.

He saw one of the puppets fall without making a sound. It was missing a leg. Sam turned his head towards Violet before realizing what had really happened. Before processing it.

"Violet!" Christina shouted.

"Hey, it was an accident! I was aiming at that bitch, but it got in the way."

Had it? Sam hadn't been focused enough to realize, but it made sense. War didn't need a human shield. They hadn't been able to touch her even once after dozens and dozens of attacks, after all. But seeing his doubt, anyone would take advantage of the useless morality that bound them.

She was a demon or something like that, and she didn't need her puppets, not really. Why not discard them? It was the right decision to corner him. Maybe she believed him to be truly weak, maybe she knew he had to pretend in front of his sisters. In any case, sooner or later she would have made that decision.

And now... What would he do now?

This was his opportunity. If she was going to use them as human shields, it wasn't his fault anymore. He had tried. Christina couldn't say he hadn't tried, so... Or would she blame him anyway, because deep down she suspected him a little for being Satan's son? If she did, he could get out of it, make her feel guilty until she begged for forgiveness. It wouldn't be a problem.

"Christina, we tried, but now we have no other choice. Don't blame your sister."

Christina grimaced but didn't protest.

Good. Good. Everything had to go perfectly for him. That's why he had gotten this second chance. He had never believed in God or fate, but now he did believe in the latter.

He was destined for greatness. He was destined to crush his enemies. He was destined to get everything he wanted. Everything, everything.

Sam smiled like an animal and intensified the force of the ice storm. Three puppets were torn apart without doing anything to War.

"There has to be a way to save them all," Christina murmured. Was she still talking about that? For God's sake! He couldn't help but notice that she was doing what she could to ensure that attacks were only directed at War. She controlled water, so it was easier for her than for Violet or him.

They had projectiles, while she could manipulate the trajectory in mid-air whenever she wanted. It was a fundamental difference. She, at least, supposed she could keep her 'hands clean'.

She could afford the privilege of following her morality and believing herself better than others, despite death knocking at their door. Well, Sam didn't care. He knew he wasn't better than others. That he was a monster. It's just that her innocence was annoying in this sense.

"I'm getting tired of playing, Sammy," War said, bringing a hand to her heart, smiling sinuously. "You should listen to the voice of reason. Everything would be easier if you surrendered. You should have known from the beginning that you couldn't do anything against me, but now it has been demonstrated beyond all doubt. You're Satan's son, of course, and in time you'll be something great. In time. Right now you're just a chick fresh out of the shell."

"Shut the fuck up!" Sam spat between his teeth. "If it were that easy, you wouldn't be wasting time talking or trying to crush my spirit."

Advancing slowly, making the difference between them so clear. It was like a cat playing with its prey. At any moment she could have started running. He wasn't interested in her stopping the games, but she managed to offend him. It couldn't be helped.

He was a proud bastard. Besides, her logic made some sense. If it were so easy to crush him, why hadn't she done it already? She had said it. This was just a job for her, she didn't enjoy it. She had no reason to prolong it. Just because he couldn't see a way to win didn't mean one didn't exist.

Besides, maybe it wasn't about that. Maybe it was something much simpler and ridiculous. Maybe she was afraid. He was the boss's son, after all. Made in his image and likeness, capable of using infernal powers. And Satan had no idea.

He could tell her what he had gained thanks to the death of Evelyn and the others, but as for the massacre in the chapel and the events that followed, he was in the dark.

Maybe she was keeping her distance and playing it safe only for fear of an ace up his sleeve that didn't exist.

It was almost funny.

True or not, that thought made her seem more human than before and that was a good thing. Human. That is, vulnerable.

In response to his provocations, War shrugged.

"As you wish."

Tentacles came sliding out from under that woman's short skirt. For a moment the heat rose to his head again and he wondered if his daddy knew the kind of things he saw. That couldn't be true, of course. Satan didn't even know he was from Earth. But, well, men were stupid.

She seems to be designed for me, he thought, but still I can't lay a hand on her. Well, life is full of great and small injustices.

War ran for him. For them, and her army also started running. It didn't matter what Christina said. If he stood with his arms crossed, they would tear him to pieces. If he wasn't able to withstand another massacre, well, he would lose her anyway.

Sam shot to kill.

But she was too fast and it was that she was actively resisting, not just walking, so he had no chance. The tentacles flew around her and destroyed the pieces of ice with a single blow. It gave the impression that just grazing them would be enough for each ice lance to crumble into a thousand pieces. War had been right, of course. Maybe someday he would become strong enough, but right now the difference between them was simply too great. A gap he couldn't bridge.

The army of puppets was reduced significantly and without mercy by the three, fortunately by all three. But that was the least of it.

He already had War on top of him. Those tentacles would impale him easily. Sam dug his feet into the ground, preparing himself. He tried to form an ice barrier as quickly as he could. A water barrier formed twice as fast as he could have.

Christina.

No, stupid. Defend yourself! But the air to protest was ripped from his lungs in a single blow. The tentacles didn't reach him. The water barely gave him time to form the ice barrier, which also shattered easily, and that made him fly backward.

He landed on the grass. His head was spinning.

A scream of pain. His heart leapt into his throat. Christina...

She was still alive, but her right leg had been pierced by one of the tentacles. She was crawling backward on the ground, leaving a thick trail of blood. All his nostrils could capture was the smell of blood. This killing field reeked of blood, entrails, and burning, for some reason.

The real fight hadn't lasted even a full minute.

Christina was only wounded and not even seriously, but it wasn't going to stay that way for long. War prepared to finish her off. Sam extended an arm towards his little sister. Far, too far.

"Enough! You win."

War turned her head mechanically to look at him.

"I already knew that. What do you think you're doing? You're already defeated, this is not a negotiation. You lost your chance to negotiate a while ago. You threw it in my face. You have nothing left to offer me."

Sam spat blood and saliva onto the grass. His eyes burned. Whenever his demon eyes came out, he could feel a strange pressure impossible to mistake.

"Cut the nonsense, will you? No more games. What I'm offering you is my cooperation."

"Cooperation?" she repeated, still pretending not to know what he was talking about. Irritating.

"After you take me far enough away that you have nothing to threaten me with except coming back to kill my sisters. That kind of cooperation. That's what I have to offer you."

Slowly and after a while, War withdrew the tentacle from Christina's right leg. What was left of it.

"I'm surprised that you're really going to sacrifice yourself for them, when you can simply turn your back on them. Maybe you were right. You don't resemble your father, although that's no advantage right now."

War laughed. The bitch openly laughed at him. Why wouldn't she? She had won.

"Come here." War lifted him like a sack of potatoes, placing him over her shoulder. On top of that, she had to make it humiliating. Well, better this than if she had carried him like a princess or something.

"Sammy..."

Christina gasped. She couldn't breathe well from the pain. The blood flowing from her destroyed leg was slipping between her fingers. Her skin, white as the moon, was now tinged red. Like a pressed flower. The bloody mess of her knee reminded him of a pressed flower.

"Sammy!"

His head hurt. She should stop shouting, it was already too late to do anything. They shouldn't have stopped. They should have gone much further from the mansion. Or not, he didn't even know how they had been found. Maybe it wouldn't have mattered, it would have only prolonged the inevitable.

The point is that they had been decisively defeated. All that was left was to accept the end.

Of course, that didn't mean there wouldn't be a second battle. As soon as he had the chance, he would slit that bitch's throat. He couldn't allow her to get away after humiliating him like that. It had nothing to do with her being his enemy and that he had to kill her. Sam needed to get revenge for that humiliation, nothing more.

His whole body hurt, but he had no wounds. External ones, at least. War moved away from Sam's sisters. He saw how Violet approached her little sister while War took him away from there. She would take care of her and make sure she survived. He knew it, and she better succeed, because if not, that rage, that frustration, that terrible experience would not have been worth it.

Sam looked around, the little he could look at it being so dark, in any case.

The number of puppets had been considerably reduced, although, of course, that didn't mean anything. They were three or four people. People from a distant village, she had said.

Would that be his fate?

Reduced to a puppet, trapped in his own body, the ultimate prison of flesh? Even without saying yes to Satan. He was getting unnecessarily nervous.

At first, War had said she had no idea what Satan was planning.

So, for whatever reason, she shouldn't be able to turn him into a puppet. Or, at least, the yes wouldn't count if he pronounced it in that state.

Otherwise, forcing him to accept that Satan use his body wouldn't be a problem. Satan would have been ready to use the perfect servant to get him the body he wanted. He wouldn't have tried to force him in the mansion or manipulate him: he would have gone straight to the point.

It made all the sense in the world, but it didn't reassure him. It was impossible for anything to reassure him, defeated and trapped by an opponent ten times stronger than him. And War was just the first of the horsemen, according to the Bible.

If the Apocalypse established some kind of hierarchical order, it's that Death, the end of all things, was naturally the strongest of them all. The rest mattered so little that they hadn't even received names. Not officially, of course. And the Bible hadn't said they were women either, so in any case what it said mattered little.

The point is that he had no basis or reason beyond the certainty that Satan had not sent his strongest servant after him. If War was ten times stronger than him, what chance did he have against all the sisters?

It was so obvious that it didn't need to be said, but he couldn't succumb to despair so soon. There had to be a way.

And for his own good, he'd better discover it before War took him wherever she was going.

His hopes of survival, as an independent human being in any case, dwindled with every second, every step that demon took.

——

Violet put both hands on her little sister's wound, pressing to slow the bleeding.

It had no effect, or at least not nearly enough.

She clicked her tongue.

She was going to get dizzy.

With the smell of blood filling her nose and lungs, with the sensation of her little sister's blood running between her fingers. She took a deep breath by reflex. A mistake, of course. The only thing you could breathe here was death.

No. She's not going to die, not today or ever.

"We have to go after him," Christina said, as if protesting.

Violet avoided her gaze, tore off a piece of her dress and used it to bandage the wound. Something is something. Christina was a water mage, but she couldn't heal herself. They would have to seek medical attention. And answer too many questions.

But afterwards, well, afterwards...

"I know. I haven't said no."

"Then do you believe him now?"

She felt deeply uncomfortable. She still couldn't look her in the eyes.

"What he said to the angel could have been to manipulate us, tell us what we wanted to hear, but letting himself be captured is no advantage. So of course I believe him. I have no choice."

He had proven it.

If he were just manipulating them, he could have gotten out of this, avoiding being captured. While the horseman War (good God) had orders not to kill him, he would always have the advantage being alone. He had discarded the only advantage he had over such a terrifying enemy to save their lives.

So of course she had, they had, to return the favor. She saw no other explanation. There was no other explanation. And, naturally, she was so relieved that she wanted to cry. She had tried to be strong and rational for the sake of her little sister. To see what was there, not just what she wanted to see. But, of course, she hadn't wanted to lose her little brother either. She was so happy that tears were welling up in her eyes.

Christina extended a hand to wipe away the tears with her fingertips, slowly and lovingly. Times were changing very quickly. She remembered changing their diapers more than once, hers and Sam's, and now it was Christina who was consoling her.

Violet nodded, trying not to start shaking. She had to be strong. For her... and for Sam.

She helped her to stand up, let her lean on her shoulder. They still had a long way to go, plans to make. War hadn't told them anything, but it wouldn't be difficult to track them. If she took Sam to the village where she had bewitched all those people, well, there were trails all over the field. That was the most likely place. A fortress surrounded by hostages loyal to her.

If it was another place, well, there were easier and harder methods. They would manage. They always did.

"Come on, sister. It's not as bad as it looks," Violet said as if she had some kind of medical training.

The piece of dress she had used as a bandage was already completely soaked with blood.

I Am the One Who Rings Death's Bell, Part 4: END

 

[MadsGM]

Chapter 51: I Am the One Who Rings Death's Bell, Part 5

Sam found himself face to face with the Adversary, though how he got there, he couldn't say.

But they could only look each other in the eye because the Adversary was hunched over. This was because Sam was bound, arms and legs, to a chair that looked more like an instrument of torture. No, it was definitely an instrument of torture. He couldn't move his head much, but what he saw was enough to know he was in hell.

Where else? Satan was caged. He couldn't be anywhere else no matter how much he wanted to. Satan wasn't doing anything to him, for now. He had nothing in his hands. He wasn't attacking him. He was just giving him a creepy smile.

For being the devil himself, he actually looked quite normal. Aside from the burning demonic eyes like molten gold, of course. Too normal, even. As if he could go unnoticed anywhere, slip into any place. Without raising suspicions. Without anyone knowing anything until it was too late.

How many people had he walked behind, smiling as everything burned around him?

To how many people had he whispered in their ears?

For how many had he been the final push they needed to cross the line? With the appearance of being the most normal, anonymous person in the world. A guy you could trust no matter what. A kind stranger. An old friend.

Suddenly Satan had a scalpel in his hand. All the speculative and philosophical nonsense left his mind.

"Don't touch me, you son of a bitch." Sam thrashed around, but couldn't do anything against the shackles, of course. He had superhuman strength. He should be able to break the iron as easily as plastic, but Satan was surely aware of that. He wouldn't have tried to tie him up if he hadn't known it would work.

Satan approached. The scalpel blade glinted in the light of the hellfire.

"It's your fault for betraying me. From the moment you made your decision, you were always destined to end up here."

Sam laughed. It wasn't a smart decision, but it wasn't a decision at all. He was simply overcome by the urge to laugh in the face of the king of hell.

"You were the first to betray me. I would have been your perfect weapon as usual if it weren't for you asking me for the only thing I'm not willing to give you. My body, my own will."

"That's why I... fell from Heaven. I guess we're similar, after all."

"Lucifer, the Morning Star."

Satan cocked his head like a bird, his lips twisting into a parody of a smile.

"Oh? How do you know that?"

Sam didn't know what to answer. He hadn't expected it to be any secret, in the first place. He opened his mouth, though he had no idea what to say. The opportunity to speak was stolen from him.

The scalpel sank into his skin, drawing a scarlet line from his elbow to his wrist.

"Ah, you son of a bitch!"

"You've already said that, don't be repetitive. Anyway, I don't really care how you know. I can assume and that's enough for me. Right now I just want to make you suffer."

He ran the scalpel across his chest, cutting his shirt, tearing skin and flesh as well, naturally. Sam gritted his teeth. He didn't want to give him the satisfaction of screaming or moaning in pain, not anymore. That was the only resistance he could show, now that he had been cornered in this way.

Although, he had no idea how this had happened. He couldn't remember how he had gotten here. He was more than confused.

Yes, that should bother him more than the current situation or the pain.

He didn't remember how he had gotten here.

He had finished the massacre of the Wrights and, more importantly, he had gotten away with it.

He had Christina on his side and the certainty that Violet would soon fall.

He had retired to an old Wright vacation house to give him time to sink his claws into the girl, so she wouldn't tell the truth. If they had stayed at the mansion they would have had to face endless questions, of course, and it had been more likely that Violet would sing than anything else.

Despite the obvious consequences of revealing himself as part of the family that harbored the Devil's son.

And after that... What? Impenetrable darkness.

"What am I doing here?" Sam asked, knowing that Satan had no interest in answering. It was just a desperate desire to know, nothing more. Something like a prayer, and he was rational enough to know that his prayers would not be heard.

In this world there was a God, but he was nothing more than an infernal spawn, after all. He said it more generally, but well, the question was that...

The scalpel ran across his skin again.

"You know, you've just forgotten. But you'll remember very soon. I know."

"You think you know everything, huh?"

"Yes. I also know how this is going to end. I've known it since before my brother Miguel put me in the cage."

Satan...

He plunged the scalpel into his cheek, piercing his mouth violently, knocking out a tooth, his mouth filled with blood, he felt like he was drowning, no, he knew he was going to die here, he screamed as much as he tried to contain himself, there was no longer any possibility of containing himself, the pain was too much, the flames of hell crackled and roared and rose towards the heavens as if defying the heavenly hosts and it was a message to the Father who had pulled the Morning Star from the heavens.

I am a message, he thought suddenly with terrifying clarity.

His mouth was so full of blood he had to spit to avoid drowning.

His mouth hurt as if it had been set on fire and his whole body trembled.

He didn't like showing weakness to anyone, least of all to his greatest adversary, but what human wouldn't react this way after something like that?

Maybe that was the problem. That, deep down, he was still human. For all his evil, for all his perversity, a human being.

Vulnerable.

"We'll see each other soon, my son. Open your eyes."

What was he talking about? His eyes were open, though it didn't help much. The darkness was consuming his vision. He was going to lose it all soon. That was the feeling he had.

Soon the only thing he could see was a sea of darkness, and those demonic eyes shining in the middle.

Then Sam...

——

Sam woke up, breathing deeply as if he had just surfaced after nearly drowning. As if he had fallen to the bottom of the sea and struggled to emerge for so long that his whole body was cold and numb.

There was a town in the distance, a few lights still on. War had him over his shoulder. Suddenly all the memories hit him, forcing their way to where they should be. Yes. Now he remembered.

He had been defeated, humiliated, captured.

So that, what had that been?

"I see you're awake. We're home, kid."

"Bitch."

"Is that all you can say?"

They entered the town whose name he still didn't know. He couldn't move well, looking around, so if there was a sign with the name of that damned town he didn't see it. Although it didn't matter, of course. Because the town was dead.

All the inhabitants, without exception, had died though they were still walking around.

In the streets.

In the buildings, looking at him through the windows. There were lights everywhere, but it gave him the feeling that those beings didn't need it to see, just like War. Shit, he thought. I'm fucked. Shit, bitch.

He took him inside a building and threw him down the basement stairs, then tied his hands and feet with iron shackles. They must have had something special, because when he thrashed against them his wrists and ankles burned. Something against demons? A sacred object that purified?

In any case, it wouldn't be easy to escape and mutilate that bitch.

"You'll wait here until they come," War said from the top of the stairs.

"Who?"

"Who's going to be? Your sisters."

War closed the door before he could answer.

That was nonsense, of course. Christina and Violet wouldn't come to rescue him, not after being crushed so easily, escaping the clutches of death by a hair's breadth. Surely they would ask for help, but they wouldn't risk their necks to save him.

Their love, their devotion, couldn't go that far.

If he intended to use him as bait to lure them in, he could have taken them or killed them from the beginning, so it couldn't be that he needed them.

War simply sincerely believed that those two would come to rescue him. She was sure of it.

If only he could share that certainty.

The truth was that he was alone again and he would have to manage on his own, as always.

I Am the One Who Rings Death's Bell, Part 5: END

 

[MadsGM]

Chapter 52: I'm the One Who Rings Death's Bell, Part 6

War closed the door, plunging Sam into the darkness of the basement.

He supposed it could have been worse.

It wasn't a musty, damp, or overly hot darkness. It was a well-kept basement at a comfortable temperature, but it was still his prison, damn it.

Sam gritted his teeth.

He twisted against the shackles once more.

He knew he would fail like he had failed so far, as nothing had changed, but he tried again anyway. He didn't have much else to do or think about. And deep down, he knew that even if he managed to escape right now, it wouldn't exactly be the ideal time.

War was out there with her dozens of soldiers, her puppets. She hadn't said or suggested anything like it, but Sam was sure she could use them as her eyes and ears. Even if he broke the shackles and got out right now, carelessly and without a plan, he would simply be caught again in no time.

It was hard, being at this lowest point since he arrived in this world, but he had to calm down and use his damn head.

Everything had gone smoothly while he had limited himself to using his head, plotting one plan after another, any trace of apparent clumsiness or haste ultimately serving its purpose perfectly fitting into the puzzle he was building with his own hands. Since he lost control after Rose was killed and he reacted poorly, everything had gone from bad to worse.

Until he ended up like this, like a common prisoner.

Tied hand and foot, thrown into a dark basement like a sack of garbage. Yes, everything had started to go to hell since that moment. That's why he had to keep a cool head, even though his blood screamed otherwise. Yes, it was a bit convenient to blame his demon blood for his decisions, but he would do it if he wanted to.

Sam thrashed against the shackles like a caged animal, and in his mind, he spun around and around like a dog chasing its tail.

The first point was something he had already established before.

He could by no means expect Violet and Christina to come help him. One thing was risking your neck for family, and quite another was throwing yourself into certain death, no matter how sentimental you were. Besides, War wasn't stupid. She hadn't told them the village, what it was called, or anything like that.

How the hell were they supposed to track him without clues? Even if they wanted to try.

As for following him here, whatever this place was, he doubted it with Christina's injury to her leg. She was risking losing her leg if she didn't get medical attention; that seemed obvious at first glance, even to someone like him. It was a world of magic, so maybe someone could make her leg grow back like the limbs of a damn lizard, or heal it before that happened. But in any case, they needed to seek medical attention urgently, not follow him or do other foolish things.

And even if they could ask someone for help, the most rational option, the same problems applied double. Lost time, any trail that might have existed and he hadn't seen being erased, trampled. By the time the cavalry arrived, all of this would be over, or they would find themselves in another village, or not at all. Or they would just arrive in time for War to massacre them.

In short, even in the best-case scenario, help would not be helpful at all.

He could only rely on himself.

The second point: just because it seemed that War had thrown him in this place without even putting guards on watch, showing no respect for his intelligence and danger, didn't mean there wasn't something there, watching him from the shadows. Invisible, intangible. Whatever the hell it was.

It just meant he couldn't see his watchers at first glance, and few things were simple in this world or any other.

It could also be that there were guards placed right at the door; that sounded much simpler, but he wouldn't dismiss the idea of an invisible watcher in the madness of the world he was in.

Third point: he couldn't defeat War as he was now, and there was nothing wrong with that. He didn't have to defeat her right now.

He wanted revenge, but if his goal for the moment had to be to escape to fight another day, he could accept that.

Sam gritted his teeth.

Yes, more or less.

All his plans went to hell in an instant. The basement door opened, and the person who entered was not War. Nor was it a puppet; it was clear at first glance that she was much more alive than those discarded shells.

There was excitement in her gaze, which he didn't like at all.

She was a pretty woman, he had to admit. A thin white blouse and a long blue skirt. The style of her clothing was clearly out of place in this world, or at least in the small piece of it he had seen so far. A more modern style, using his world as a reference. She looked like a girl he could have seen any time he went out on the street. Ordinary except for her beauty.

Even so, he had no doubt she was dangerous.

Beyond the obvious—that everyone in this dead village was a danger to him—there was a clear sense. Like having a knife pressed against his back. He felt he would be torn apart if he breathed out of turn.

He locked onto that unease and spat out:

"Who the hell are you?"

"Guess," she simply replied. "It's not that hard."

He wasn't in the mood for riddles, but she was right; it wasn't hard at all. Because unease wasn't the only thing he felt when looking at her.

She was pretty, but not that much, deep down. She wasn't even his type.

However, suddenly there was an overwhelming desire to throw her to the ground and take advantage of her until her body couldn't handle it anymore. It wasn't his usual lust. It was more like…

"Hunger."

"Bingo. I'm here to rape you."

Sam pulled back.

He was too surprised to feel offended or in danger.

I'm the One Who Rings Death's Bell, Part 6: END

 

[MadsGM]

Chapter 53: I Am the One Who Rings Death's Bell, Part 7

He was going to be raped.

He was going to be raped, damn it, and there was very little he could do to resist with his arms and legs tied so securely. Now he had a very different motivation to escape these shackles, though in the end, it was all the same.

Determination wasn't enough; nothing could change how messed up he was.

Oh, yes. Very messed up, unless he thought of something and quickly.

Hunger straddled him very sensually. Hip to hip, chest to chest. She was well-developed in every way.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Did you think it was a joke?" Hunger licked his cheek.

It took all his willpower not to shudder.

He was the one who violated, not the one being violated. Was this some kind of karma? Well, he hadn't exactly raped Christina, but he had consented to have sex with someone he wasn't, so it was pretty close. On the other hand, if Sam had remained Sam, he probably would never have slept with her. Things were a bit confusing.

Why was he mulling over stupid, irrelevant things? The only thing he should be worried about was that this bitch was going to rape him, for God's sake.

"But why?"

Hunger leaned back, sitting on his stomach, a trail of saliva sliding from her lips.

She had left too much on his cheek. He told himself it was more like a dog's licks given the amount of saliva she had left him with, trying to disgust himself.

It didn't work.

He always knew it wouldn't work. After all, the hunger he felt wasn't even his own. He couldn't even resist her manipulation of his feelings. A violation in many ways.

If only he could take this lightly: What? A hot chick is going to rape me? She went crazy the moment she saw me and could only think about me plugging her up with my special cork? What a misfortune; it wouldn't satisfy my male ego at all.

In his old life, he had joked about it with his friends (rather, coworkers he had to tolerate and please). That if an ugly fat woman tried to take advantage of him, of course, he would call the police immediately, but if a hot chick did it, he would shed crocodile tears while enjoying his good fortune.

Probably most men thought they would react like that if they found themselves in that situation, too.

However, now that it had become reality for him, he just felt cornered.

"I've been out of this world for a long time, with only my sisters for company. Maybe it's just that I miss being properly fucked. Maybe I just want you to put me on all fours and split me in half with your cock." The woman laughed softly. "Although, of course, I'm not stupid enough to let you go for that."

"Maybe," Sam repeated, "but I doubt it."

"You're not half as clever as you think, you know? It's obvious you're just trying to buy time. But since I don't care, I'll tell you anyway." Her left hand rested on his pants. Sam swallowed hard, despite himself. "You're the son of Satan. His next body, not exactly like him, but compatible enough for him to inhabit."

Hunger smiled as if she were thinking of a private joke. Her cheeks flushed; her imagination must have kicked into overdrive.

"So I want you to get me pregnant."

His blood froze in his veins. It would have been better if she had no other goal than pleasure. Being used for a plan was somehow worse than the idea of being used just for his body, as strange as it felt to think in those terms.

"No," Sam said reflexively.

"I said 'I want,' but I'm not asking for your permission. I get what I want, Sammy, no matter what."

Sam kept his mouth shut. If he talked so much, it was because Hunger was right; at this rate, she would get what she wanted. If he didn't manage to do something other than just tongue-lashing, his integrity was at stake.

Worse still, his pride.

Though what he should be worried about was the idea of bringing competition into the world. The son of the son of Satan could also be considered the Antichrist, right?

Hunger pulled down his pants and underwear.

He was rock hard.

Of course he was, much to his dismay, but…

"Wow, it's smaller than I thought."

"Bitch." Sam spat in her face; he wouldn't allow that.

Hunger laughed and licked her lips, not even bothering to wipe off the spit. Considering she had just slobbered all over his face like a damn dog less than a minute ago, he probably should have seen it coming.

"I am. And so what? Humans are creatures of desire, who contradict themselves and invent millions of excuses not to satisfy their hunger. Faith, morality, duty, family. Oh, but what will others think of me? Or the simple fear of the consequences, too, but I'm not afraid and don't hide from myself. I am who I am. I'm an honest creature. What's wrong with that?"

Sam didn't respond. He couldn't respond.

He would never admit it out loud, but those were essentially his thoughts. The way his determination had taken shape since arriving in this world. No matter the consequences, without paying attention to weak excuses like morality, he would pursue only his own desires. Because he was greedy.

Because he had…

Hunger. A hunger that hadn't been satisfied in his past life and still haunted him, pushing him to the top.

[Redacted cuz too naughty for this site. I'm not happy about it, but it is what it is. I'm already skirting the line enough.]

However, the most humiliating thing of all was that his salvation arrived with the door opening. The undulating silhouette of a woman entered the indecent basement.

"What the hell are you doing?" she spat.

It was War, of course.

He never thought he would be happy to see her. That in itself was a humiliation, but he was. He was pathetically happy; he would have accepted help from anyone at this point.

***

Complete chapter uploaded on Patreon, not really because I think it's a legitimate donation incentive, but more because I'm not uploading the story to any site where the softcore porn wouldn't be breaking the rules.

And yes, I know the Horseman is called Famine in English, but it seemed easier for me to go this way with so much of the original text centered on the hunger Hunger causes. I wouldn't just have to translate but also reword it... I mean, it wouldn't be that big of an effort, but it's not a big deal either, right?

 

[MadsGM]

Chapter 54: I Am the One Who Rings Death's Bell, Part 8

Silence fell after War's question, but Sam did not let it continue for long. Or rather, he exploded.

"Get that fucking bitch of your sister off of me already! She wants to rape me, dammit!" he yelled on the verge of hysteria.

No, who was he kidding? He was hysterical.

War jumped down the wooden stairs in one leap, and well, that's precisely what she did. She kicked her own sister against the wall. Wow, that was really ugly. Sam didn't laugh out loud, however. He didn't have the energy for that.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" War repeated, drawing out each word. He had never seen her so angry. Well, of course he hadn't, since he'd only known her for a few hours.

To regain control of himself, he had to open up Hunger like a goddamn pig and watch as his dirty innards spilled out.

Nothing less would be enough to satisfy him.

"What the fuck were you doing?" Sam interrupted because he already knew the answer to that question. "Letting this bitch slip in, and because of you, I almost..."

A kick.

Of course, War crushed his head against the ground with her boots. Under no circumstances would he have paid for that, quite the opposite, although there were men deranged enough to enjoy such a thing.

He shouldn't be thinking about that kind of thing right now, but his head was a mess. Whatever came out would come out.

"And I don't need it, do your job better." She pressed his face harder against the floor. I'll make you pay for this, bitch. I'll make you pay dearly. I'll rape you until you beg me to stop. I'll rape you until you like it. When I get out of this, but I'll just kill the bitch of your sister. And for your fucking information, Hunger wanted to get pregnant.

War froze.

Mechanically, very, very slowly, she turned her head to fix those dagger-like eyes on her sister. Older or younger, it was clear that she felt intimidated. Hunger curled in on herself, as if bracing for a punch.

It was just for an instant, but it was enough to reveal her weakness.

Regardless of which sister was the eldest, it made sense that War would be the best in a fight. Or maybe he was seeing things wrong and it was just a more or less normal fight between sisters, nothing more and nothing less. Maybe Hunger could win, but sisters would never fight to the death.

It was strange to think they had a family dynamic, much as they called themselves sisters, but it could be true. Why not?

"Is that true?" War asked. It was like an echo of his thoughts.

In any case, he had no choice but to watch what happened as a helpless spectator.

At least War had had the decency to trample his face in such a way that he could still see everything. Not to pull up his pants, however, but that would have been a bloody miracle.

The silence must have been enough of an answer for her, as War didn't wait any longer.

"It's the boss's body. As soon as he found out about that, he would have disintegrated you."

And he would find out as soon as he took control, sharing his memories.

Oh, is she worried about her little sister? What a cute pair of bitches.

Hunger wiped her mouth, cleaning the trail of blood.

"So what? I still would have gotten what I wanted."

"We'd also pay for your actions, but it's clear that doesn't matter to you."

Hunger laughed.

"Don't take it so seriously. I doubt he'd mind having... another little Antichrist." Hunger licked her lips, tracing soft circles over her belly, as if she had already come inside her. Though barely, War had saved her from that. And he supposed he was grateful.

War grimaced.

"Get out of my sight. Now."

For a moment he thought he would witness a fight between the Horsemen of the Apocalypse, but in the end Hunger lowered her head and slunk away with her tail between her legs. More importantly, Sam kept his tail where it belonged.

"You're not going to leave me here again, are you?"

War looked back at him.

"At least increase the security, she'll try again as soon as you let your guard down."

War sighed.

"You're right." Then she pulled up his pants, as if he didn't need any more humiliation (on the other hand, he understood he was complaining about everything), and then hoisted him up on her shoulder again. "I'm going to change your location. But if you know what's good for you, you won't resist."

I Am the One Who Rings Death's Bell, Part 8: END

 

[MadsGM]

Chapter 55: I Am the One Who Rings Death's Bell, Part 9

Sam knew what was good for him.

Getting the hell out of here without looking back, obviously. But, even though his mind was anything but clear, he recognized that nothing had really changed. It was still a terrible idea to escape like this, without a plan.

It sounded easy, except he'd be caught again immediately.

So he had no plans to resist while being taken wherever, even if what would make entry more difficult for Hunger would make it harder for him to get out as well. He didn't like it, but that was how things were. It was the right decision. He understood that.

It took a great deal of willpower not to contradict his plans, trying to escape as soon as War pulled him from the basement into the moonlight. Because, of course, it hadn't been long since he'd been left there like a bag of trash. No matter how eternal it had felt under that damn bitch's tender care.

The Puppets were still where they had been when he arrived.

He imagined they didn't need to eat, sleep, or rest. Or maybe it was worse. They needed all those things but could ignore their body's needs as long as War gave the order. Until their bodies failed them. Collapsed, whether from hunger or thirst.

In any case, those creatures (because they couldn't be called anything else) sent shivers down his spine.

He couldn't think of a worse fate than ending up like that.

Surely, that's how he would end up if things went wrong. Satan intended to take everything from him, to reduce him to a mere puppet. It was like looking at his future. Sam swallowed hard. But that would never happen; under no circumstances would he say yes to Satan, no matter what he did. Selfishness was what had gotten him this far. The belief that nothing was more valuable than himself.

That would never change. There was no reason for it to change.

War took him to what had once been a town hall not long ago, but now it was as dead as the rest of the village.

She led him to the third floor, passing row after row of puppets, some standing like statues, others apparently patrolling the area. Then she just tossed him into another room that didn't seem to have anything special about it. Sam looked around as if it were a joke. But this was dead serious; Guerra had already turned his back on him, heading toward the door.

"Is that it? No extra security measures or anything? She going to come to rape me again, for fuck's sake!"

That was something none of them apparently wanted.

Had she bothered to move him, but wouldn't cooperate?

"There is more, but why would I share the details with my prisoner?" War said simply.

Of course. That made sense. Sam was still too affected by the experience; he should have thought of that. It was disgusting, feeling so vulnerable again, so human. He thought he had discarded all of that the moment Satan told him what he had to do.

He had been wrong, or maybe it was impossible to discard it all in the first place. Perhaps, despite the demonic blood running through his veins, he was nothing more than a human.

He felt like throwing up.

War must have interpreted that as a desire to protest.

"Shut up. I already have enough headaches."

War slammed the door. I have much more right to be angry; you know that, right? Of course, she knew, and she didn't give a damn. Well, the feeling was mutual.

"Great."

Sam took a deep breath and jumped to his feet. His legs were too close together because of the shackles, so he barely avoided falling on his face again, but he managed to regain his balance and move toward the wall.

He kicked it, leaving a hole bigger than his shoe.

"Let it be clear that this is not an escape attempt!"

He received no response.

He leaned back, already planning what he would do the next time Guerra or one of his sisters opened the door. He couldn't act recklessly, but he also couldn't wait too long. Both could lead to his doom. He was going to repeat that his situation hadn't changed, but it actually had. It had changed for the worse.

Before, he had only feared that Guerra wouldn't be alone with his puppets but accompanied by his sisters.

——

Christina sat, staring at her lap where her hands were intertwined. Her surroundings were very noisy, but the sounds barely reached her ears; they were muffled as if her head were underwater. Even if someone had approached her to shake her, trying to get her attention, it would have taken several seconds for her to react.

And it was no wonder.

She was waiting for her older sister.

Violet was inside, being interrogated. Christina had already had her turn. She had made sure to go first. It wasn't that she didn't trust her; she wanted to and did, it was just that trusting wasn't enough.

If she had learned anything from the last tumultuous days when her entire life had turned upside down, it was that.

Love was the only rock she could cling to, but sometimes it wasn't enough. Sometimes, something more was needed.

Of course, they had prepared their story before entering to ask for help. While they had lived their whole lives sheltered by the Wright family, that didn't mean they were stupid.

That's why she had to go first, even though it seemed Violet had changed her mind.

If she told a different story, if she told the truth, she wouldn't just be betraying Sam. She would also pay the consequences. She had been willing to wet her neck and kneel before the executioner's axe because...

Love was the only rock, the only spark of light in this dark world.

Even as she prepared for her betrayal, she desperately clung to the idea that these measures had been unnecessary. She had already lost too many things. She didn't need to lose trust in her older sister, who had always been there for her.

Soon she would find out if she had placed her trust well.

Soon she would know whether what Sam received would be help or the embrace of the flames of a pyre.

Let it burn, let the devil burn, the people would sing with a happiness bordering on madness. Christina clenched her hands. As if they themselves weren't unbearably monstrous in wishing for such a thing. As if they themselves weren't responsible for cornering her in the first place.

No one was to blame for being born. Everyone deserved a chance. Christina fervently believed that, or maybe she needed to believe it; in any case, she did.

The door opened.

With an uncertain and distracted expression, Violet approached her.

"What did you tell them?" she whispered, her question, the million-dollar question, that would decide countless destinies.

"What we agreed upon."

Christina searched for any trace of lies in her older sister's face. She found none, but that didn't naturally mean they weren't there.

Did she not want to lose trust in her older sister? She almost laughed at herself out loud. She already had. The proof wasn't that she had to doubt what she saw, but that she didn't know what she was seeing. Just a few days ago, she would have been able to read her like an open book as always. Now there was a gap in the middle that she would probably never be able to bridge.

Her heart was breaking into a thousand pieces, but she had to face reality.

"Will they help us?" she asked. A second chance.

"Yes."

And for the second time, she didn't know what she was seeing on that once-familiar face.

With a heavy heart, Christina prepared for the moment they would set out.

Yes, they already knew their destination. Tracking down Sam hadn't been difficult at all. By cooperating, they had finished quickly. They would have to repeat the exercise to ensure that War (whom they had naturally blamed for what had happened in the mansion as well, or at least Christina had) hadn't transported him elsewhere. But it wouldn't be a problem.

Getting medical attention hadn't been either, although her leg still hurt like hell; she just had to grit her teeth and endure it.

That had never been the hard part.

The real hell awaited them now. In just a few hours.

In the red-tinged village called Wormwood.

I Am the One Who Rings Death's Bell, Part 9: END

 

[MadsGM]

Chapter 56: I Am the One Who Rings Death's Bell, Part 10

Sam reviewed his options.

He had gained exactly four powers from that disaster. One was superhuman regeneration, and the other was linked to regeneration. He counted them as separate powers because he had the feeling they were. Whatever, it wasn't like it was an exact science.

He thought he had felt his regeneration improving in the middle of the battle, looking back, but as he said, it wasn't an exact science.

In any case, the second power tied to his regeneration was that when he inflicted damage on his enemies, his regeneration speed increased. That was all.

Obviously, none of those powers would be useful for getting out of here.

As for the two remaining powers that Satan didn't know about, he could teleport relatively short distances, but it depended on his line of sight. He could also become intangible like a shadow for a few seconds.

That could potentially work to escape from the shackles, but he had his doubts.

After all, it was a shape-shifting power; deep down, it wasn't much different from his ability to transform into the animals whose hearts he had devoured, something Satan was aware of.

But he figured he had nothing to lose by trying.

He failed, of course.

The attempt to turn into a dove also failed miserably. The hole his kick had left in the wall was evidence that the shackles didn't block all his powers, so he had some hope, but it was all for nothing.

Well, it was expected that it wouldn't be that easy.

He still had his super strength. The ease with which he had made a hole in the wall was proof of that. And yet, he hadn't made a dent in the shackles so far.

He didn't like it, but with every passing second, it became more evident. His only option was to try to break them with ice. Sam took a deep breath, preparing for the possibility of being impaled by accident.

It didn't matter. Thanks to his regeneration, he would probably just suffer from the damage he inflicted, if he inflicted any at all. Blake Wright and the angel Castiel had left him in much worse shape. And if he died, well, it would be a huge pain. It wouldn't be the end of his existence; he would end up in Hell, delivered to Satan on a silver platter.

But he wasn't going to die.

It wasn't that big of a deal—it would take such terrible luck it would be like a miracle. Except for the positive sense usually associated with that word.

The ice spears formed above his head, almost touching the ceiling. Sam took another deep breath and opened fire with great care. Otherwise, he would have ended up his own assassin.

The spears struck the shackles and shattered into a thousand pieces.

Sam grimaced, looked away, and threw himself back as if trying to escape the fragments. The ice shower continued. He felt three shards of broken ice sink into his stomach and the warm blood flowing freely, staining the cold, almost transparent ice the color of a field of red flowers.

It came to his mind like a picture burned into his memory. It seemed like a good place to die.

But there wasn't that much blood, and he wasn't going to die. He gritted his teeth. The ice shower…

Of course, it hadn't made a dent in the shackles either.

As expected.

His punches and kicks were more powerful than that barrage, thanks to his super strength. He had tried to destroy the shackles physically for so many minutes without success, so a brief shower stood no chance. It was common sense. Even so, it was frustrating. Because if even this wasn't enough, what exactly could he try?

Firing the ice over and over until it worked. That was the only way, and it would probably even work, sooner or later.

But dozens of pieces of ice shattering into a thousand fragments wasn't exactly quiet.

The room, of course, wasn't soundproof. And even if it had been, he had made a hole in the wall, so that didn't matter anymore.

If he kept this up, all he would achieve was to attract the attention of his enemies. Signing his death… Well, not his death warrant, they needed him, but it wouldn't be pleasant. Sam threw himself onto his back on the floor, staring at the ceiling.

"Great."

——

They had set off. The guards had allowed both to accompany them, although they were behind all of them. Because they didn't need to guide them, to show them the way. And to protect them, of course.

They were noblewomen, after all.

Christina didn't feel very noble, or very protected, nor did she burn with the desire for that to change. But she didn't protest. The sooner they set off, the better.

Besides, once they got there, once the chaos began, it wouldn't matter who was supposed to fight and who was supposed to be protected. Once there, she would do whatever she wanted. And whatever was necessary.

Christina tightened the reins of the horse. As a noblewoman, she had learned to ride from a young age. Neither she nor Violet had any problem. She urged her horse forward a bit, getting closer to Violet. Christina had gradually fallen behind, not by much, but enough for it to be obvious that something was up. Although the only thing going on was that she was lost in thought.

"Sister…"

Violet glanced at her from the corner of her eye and jumped to conclusions.

"Don't worry. He has to be alive. He needs him."

By the way, their escort wasn't very large. If Violet had revealed the truth to the guards, they wouldn't have left a single one of them behind—they would have launched a hunt for the demon's son. And she doubted they would have been allowed to accompany them, no matter that this 'being' was their brother.

"I know. I'm here to tell you that if things get ugly, if you have to choose between me and Sam, save him."

She hadn't had to think about it much.

It wasn't a pleasant conversation, but she felt she needed to make things clear. Because anything could happen in the heat of battle.

"What are you saying? You're my sister." Violet sounded offended. Concerned for her, of course, but it wasn't just that. Christina winced.

"And he's your brother, don't forget that. Besides, you owe him. All of this is your fault."

"What?"

Violet seemed genuinely surprised, for some reason. It was something anyone would be able to figure out, even more so a woman as smart as her. Christina supposed she didn't want to think about it. It was always hard to face the truth. Yes, she knew it perfectly well, like anyone in this world.

The truth was something cold, hard, and ruthless.

It was much better to look away.

Or at least, much easier. Most people couldn't distinguish between those two things.

That's what Christina believed.

"We left the mansion because we couldn't be sure of what you'd say. If we had stayed, if we had been able to call back the security staff, hire adventurers, whatever, this wouldn't have happened. So, you owe him."

Every word she had said was true.

Even so, Violet's expression turned unpleasant. Of course. She didn't enjoy hurting her. It was just that it was necessary; she needed to be sure. It was too important to just… trust.

"Okay. You're right. But you're both my family," Violet said. "I have no intention of sacrificing anyone."

I hope that's true, she thought.

"I have no intention of dying either, but it could happen. All I'm asking is that if it comes to it, you choose well. Because, I warn you, if you choose me, I won't live much longer."

"How can you say that?" Her voice trembled.

"Love, something you know well. Let's not pretend I'm the only one who sees him differently."

Violet remained silent for a long time, long enough for Christina to be convinced she wouldn't say anything. That this was the last nail in the coffin of the conversation.

But she was wrong.

"He was always so handsome, so kind, so well-dressed… And the only boy I ever had a relationship with. The ones from Ardenwood School and the nearby ones don't count."

"You don't have to explain that to me." She agreed with all of that, and… "I'm not the one who's ashamed of her feelings. I know who I am, and I'm proud of it."

This time, the silence would be final. She had no doubt. She knew it as soon as she saw her expression, like in the old days.

Christina rode her horse ahead of her older sister, energetically continuing the journey.

I Am the One Who Rings Death's Bell, Part 10: END

 

[MadsGM]

Chapter 57: I'm the One Who Rings Death's Bell, Part 11

They finally arrived; there was little time left before the sun rose.

The fateful town of Wormwood.

Christina recalled the verse from the Bible that Sam had recited on the way to that small vacation home. A terrible prophecy stained in scarlet. Only time would tell how true it would become. No matter how terribly selfish it was, Christina didn't care if many men would die. Her world had always been small, and now it had become even smaller, to the point that only three people could fit in it.

As long as her small world survived, she could accept almost any outcome.

It wasn't as if she had never felt any affection for any other family member, for the dozens of people who had died violently at Sam's hands, or that she lacked happy memories with them. Even her father was part of some of those memories.

But she had accepted the reality that Sam had acted in self-defense, that there had truly been no other way.

Even if it was to keep her sanity.

Now, the small world that allowed her to remain sane was at stake once again. So little time had passed since that horrible nightmare, and everything was on the brink once more. It was as if the world was conspiring to destroy her and her family.

Of course, the truth was far more terrifying.

It wasn't the world doing it, but Satan.

The monster that had plunged humanity into darkness and misery for generations before being defeated and caged. They weren't marching to confront him, but still, her heart raced. Christina took a deep breath and licked her lips. She was afraid. She was so afraid.

But she couldn't let fear stop her.

Finally, they dismounted, she and all the cavalry.

They entered Wormwood.

"Damn, it looks like a ghost town," someone muttered, barely audible. Christina only heard it because she was close to them. In any case, that was the thought that must have been crossing everyone's mind.

There was nothing.

No people, no lights.

Not even blood, traces of a massacre. It was as if one day all the people in the town had simply disappeared.

Dragged by the devil himself into the depths of hell.

Christina shuddered.

No, just one of his lackeys in any case. The devil remained in the cage, where he should be.

They moved closer, following the guards behind. None of them bothered to order them to stay back. Perhaps because the sinister atmosphere sealed their throats. If it were them, they certainly wouldn't reject any kind of help. Even those deemed useless could serve as another body for the enemy to get through to reach them.

They were behind in the formation, but that didn't mean they would be the last to fall.

In this dark and dead city, the attack could come at any moment and from any direction.

Especially because they had no idea.

They had been told just enough. They wouldn't have believed it in the first place, so she didn't feel guilty about the fact that they had no idea what they were getting into.

Christina clenched her fists, moving through the darkness. They didn't have to win the fight. Just give her the time and the opportunity to rescue her brother, nothing more.

She could accept the sacrifice and the blood on her hands for the sake of that outcome.

The first of the sacrifices was very sudden and shocking.

One of the men in the middle of the formation fell off his horse without making a sound, without any apparent explanation.

And just like that, his head exploded.

Obviously, it wasn't a gunshot. They would have heard it or at least smelled the gunpowder, because there were ways to suppress or hide the sound, but not that smell.

It was a type of magic of unknown origin.

Where had the attack come from? They couldn't even answer such a simple question in the first place, nor could they take the most crucial step with confidence—taking cover.

But they took cover, both of them, just like the guards, wherever they could, driven by the fear of dying.

In an instant. Without even realizing what had happened.

Without having the chance to see Sam's face one more time.

"Stay calm. We've been trained for this."

No, you haven't, thought Christina. And soon, you poor bastards, you'll find out. Because of her, but she didn't feel a shred of guilt. Maybe that said something about her, but she didn't give a damn.

First of all, her head could be the next on the chopping block.

She couldn't think about anything else.

"Calm down, I said! We need to find the direction of the attack. The enemy might have already moved, changing location, but at least that will give us an area to work with. At least that way, we'll know what we're up against, damn it!"

War had just crushed a man's life from a distance, like he was a damn insect. She could always have done that during the fight—if you could even call it that—at the vacation house. She could always have done that; she never needed to get close. Realizing this made her blood run cold.

She was the Horsewoman of War and Conquest, spreading nothing but death and chaos wherever she went. So it was to be expected that she would be indescribably superior to ordinary mortals.

But still, it was terrifying to feel like an animal writhing in the hand of a superior being.

——

Sam heard the sound of horses' hooves.

He heard a loud, fleshy noise, probably gory as hell.

"Well, looks like the party started without me. Great."

I'm the One Who Rings Death's Bell, Part 11: END

 

[MadsGM]

Chapter 58: I'm the One Who Rings Death's Bell, Part 12

From her vantage point in the darkness of a building, War smiled with satisfaction. More than a smile, it was something wild, like an animal baring its teeth. Her eyes glowed purple through the veil of darkness. Of course, just like a predator's eyes, the darkness of the night posed no obstacle for them. Her eyes penetrated beyond, seeing everything clearly.

Bang. In an instant, a man's life had been violently snatched away. His head exploded, and the contents of his skull scattered across the sand, without him ever knowing what had happened. One moment he was alive, and the next, dead. In reality, the first to fall were the lucky ones. When it was all over, War would have more time and freedom to play, after all. To stretch the muscles of her creativity, so to speak.

As expected, the rats scattered and sought cover, even though they didn't know from where the attacks would come. And there weren't many; to protect her brother, that girl hadn't told the truth. Otherwise, the cavalry would have been much larger and would have come to this village not to rescue Samuel Wright, but to kill the devil's son. If they had come here with hundreds and hundreds of soldiers, perhaps she would have had some trouble, but with only a few dozen... Ah, they had no chance.

She heard the rats speculate that she might be running elsewhere, changing locations to confuse them. That would have been the normal thing to do, but she didn't need to. War extended her index finger, aimed, and fired.

BANG. Another head exploded, another life crushed like an insect. War's smile widened. Despite what her name might suggest, she had never felt such pleasure in killing someone as she did now. After all, she had been lying in wait for so long, biding her time in the shadows. This felt like a drowning person finally surfacing. The blood that filled the air was like the oxygen her hypothetical drowning self had lacked.

War spread her arms to the sides, as if to welcome them to the bloody and prophetic village of Ajenjo, even though not a single one of those poor idiots had spotted her yet. Well, she had worked hard to give them a warm welcome, as the good hostess she was. What was it they said? Ah, yes, it's the thought that counts. War killed a third in the same manner. They still hadn't even located her. What a bunch of incompetents.

Although the situation changed faster than she could have expected. Suddenly, a whip of water coiled around her left arm and dragged her against the window, hitting her hard. The glass cracked, and with the second push, War crashed through the window. She unceremoniously landed in the midst of those bastards. She didn't even bother to do it in a somewhat more graceful manner to preserve her dignity.

But no one could blame her if they knew what she knew: she had a defense that worked automatically in 360 degrees. How the hell had that whip of water gotten so close to her and grabbed her, doing this? It made no sense. It didn't, but she had to face the facts. Somehow, that little brat had outsmarted her. Christina, if she remembered correctly: the little bitch she had left with a shattered leg, who should have taken much longer to find them, not to mention recover. What a pain in the ass...

Anyway, it was just a minor inconvenience. The most frustrating part of all: she realized that the little bitch in question seemed just as surprised, if not more so, than she was. Had she bypassed a defense system that no mortal had ever overcome purely by luck? Give me a break! No such miracle existed. It was a bad joke, a damn bad joke.

"Men, open fire." The order was given. Dozens of guards opened fire on her at the same time, but, of course, an attack of that level was something entirely different. Effortlessly, none of the bullets hit her; they were lost in the night. Even the gunpowder smoke quickly disappeared, along with the smell. Here, the only prevailing scent was the overwhelming smell of blood.

"How is this possible? This isn't any magic I've seen before." And they could spend the rest of the night asking themselves that; they would never get an answer. That wasn't magic, and she wasn't a sorceress.

"Welcome to this wonderful slaughter chamber. None of you will leave alive." Slowly, very slowly, the tentacles emerged into this world, and her silhouette was surrounded by dark energy, like a kind of aura. She didn't need the help of her older sisters; she only required that of her pet.

In theory, there should be a fundamental difference between someone who could only attack at close range and someone who could attack from a distance, but that meant nothing if the bullets couldn't reach her. There was no disadvantage. Neither numerical, logistical, nor strategic. Undoubtedly, she held all the cards.

"Those of you in a hurry to die, come at me. I'll welcome you with open arms." Literally, the tentacles would embrace them until they exploded like piñatas. Figuratively, they would be more names to add to her list. To her legend. To the fear of war that infused her with life and made her stronger. Yes, her older sisters didn't need to interfere in this. She hadn't forgotten about the whip of water. It was still there, coiled around her arm, trying to pull her and drag her across the ground again, but it was no longer possible.

War acted as if its presence didn't even bother her, and it truly didn't. It was just a minor inconvenience, just like her visitors.

"Violet, Christina, I'm here, right here. Don't you want to get your little brother back? Well, come for me. Stop trembling back there like rats."

She laughed, more to provoke them than because she felt like it. It always worked with spoiled little girls like those: young and stupid.

"It's time for the game to begin. The prelude is starting to bore me, and I'm not good at dealing with boredom."

I'm the One Who Rings Death's Bell, Part 12: END

 

[MadsGM]

Chapter 59: I Am the One Who Rings Death's Bell, Part 13

Christina clicked her tongue in frustration as her attempts proved so futile, but she did not undo the water tentacle that was coiled around War's arm.

Let her do it whenever she wanted and if she could.

It was the first attack from any of the three that had reached her. After so much suffering and fear, she could not let go of this miracle that she herself did not even understand just because War was like an immovable target. Withdrawing the tentacle would not improve her situation, and it was very possible that the miracle would not be repeated.

No.

It was no miracle.

She should stop thinking in such a stupid way right now if she really wanted to survive. It was a hole in her absolute defenses that she should find and exploit to the fullest.

But what?

What was it that had allowed her to breach her absolute defense so casually?

She had not seen War, only realized where the shots were coming from and had therefore blindly launched that attack, but could it really be that simple, right? Could it be something so simple and stupid? In that case, closing her eyes should make her attacks reach her. No. No, impossible. That couldn't be. But she couldn't think of any other difference.

Something had allowed her to reach War, hit her, and drag her into the street, an unfavorable open field position. She didn't believe that War herself had allowed her to do that.

It's not that it was completely illogical, necessarily, but she had seen her surprise, her rage, when she raised her head and fixed her gaze on her after the fall.

She had not pretended, she was not playing with her.

She had truly breached her defenses, and that meant she should be able to repeat it as many times as necessary. She just had to focus.

No. She had come here to save Sam, not necessarily to kill War, but... They would never really be safe until all their enemies were dead. So if she could take advantage of the opportunity right now, there was no reason to hold back.

To settle.

If she could kill War now, it was her duty to do so.

She had the means, even if she didn't know how yet, and she had time.

The soldiers would buy her time. While they died violently, Christina could think and test her ideas. Using more than two dozen people as sacrifices. That was a horrible thing, but she didn't care. She already had blood on her hands. Choosing to stay by Sam's side and do anything to help him made Christina an accomplice to the massacre of his family. The circumstances, how justified she believed it to be, didn't matter. That wouldn't wash the blood off her hands.

I don't need clean hands, I just need him, she thought.

Like that night, War moved calmly towards the enemies.

It seemed she had all the time in the world.

It seemed she didn't even see them as a threat, naturally.

The guards fired over and over. And over and over, the bullets were lost in the night without reaching anywhere, and without War making any visible effort to dodge. They simply disappeared. There was no apparent explanation.

But everything had an explanation, without a doubt.

So Christina positioned herself behind a wall and put to the test the first stupidity that had crossed her mind. That is, closing her eyes, forming her weapon, and blindly firing it towards the heart of the enemy.

At this distance, it shouldn't be difficult to hit even with her eyes closed. Rather, she could change the trajectory of the water in the air, so her water tentacle would act as her eyes. She wouldn't really be blind. That's why she didn't tell Violet anything about her stupid plan. She didn't need her. Not to tell her it had worked, nor to help her aim.

A second water tentacle shot out, violently emerging from the cover at a blinding speed. She kept it away from the guards, and when her memory of War's progress and rhythm so far told her it was time, she made the tentacle plunge even faster.

"Who the hell is that?"

"Keep calm. At some point the attacks will breach her defenses!"

"Yes, yes, she can't keep this up forever!"

The desperate attempts to cling to hope were suddenly cut short by a cold laugh.

"You'd like that, but I'm not even human. Your common sense has nothing to do with an existence like mine."

"She's crazy."

"Don't be fooled, she's as human as..."

One of the tentacles shot out, stretching too far, capturing one of the guards and lifting him up with his armor and all as if he weighed nothing. Then it squeezed. And squeezed. The tentacle returned to its original position, and War tore the poor son of a bitch in half over her head, bathing herself in his blood. The two halves fell to the sides.

"I am War, the Rider. I am one of the heralds of the apocalypse." Covered in blood from head to toe, with a terrible smile...

She really seemed more than human. Something larger than life. Something that took your breath away.

War spread her arms to the sides, continued walking.

"You make those faces as if you can't believe me, but deep down you know it's true since you set foot in this town. In my territory. There's something in the air, isn't there? Something abnormal. From another world. Well, you're absolutely right. It's not an instinct you should reject. This is not your world, it's my world."

From the depths of the darkness, sounds were heard like heavily creaking wood. The possessed people came out through the doors, windows and alleys, marching forward, blind, fearless, to exterminate the enemies of their mistress. Or die for her, which was more likely.

"What the hell is this?" said one. Christina turned her head quickly to look at him. His eyes were wide and his face covered in sweat, his knees trembling.

War laughed again.

"You'd better die or you'll find out. Go on, my children, kill or die. You are the wake of the red star."

All those puppets, so to speak, rushed forward, crawling on all fours, howling and roaring, saliva and foam escaping their mouths. They hadn't made a sound until now. War had changed the behavior of her slaves to instill fear, and looking around, it was obvious it was working.

Most of them took several steps back, suddenly, as if they had lost their balance. Suddenly they were no longer guards, soldiers or warriors, anything else that could be used to call them. They were just people who wanted to survive.

They lost their greatest advantage, their unity, with a single blow.

As for them...

"I'm coming for you, Christina. Don't think I'll leave you for last. I'm not that stupid. I'll tear you to pieces before you can repeat whatever it is you've done to me."

Fuck, she thought.

But she didn't back down, on the contrary, she took a step forward. That bitch was underestimating her if she thought she was a weak-willed animal that would crumble at the slightest display of her strength. If she were that kind of person, she would never have come to this town in the first place. She had seen enough last night.

Her leg still hurt as if it were on fire, but the pain only pushed her forward, as it always had.

——

Frustrated beyond measure, Sam shouted from the bottom of his throat, not caring who might hear him (well, he had long since stopped worrying about that, inevitably, with the racket he had had to raise) and hit the floor with his head.

Nothing, there was no way to break the damn shackles.

He could escape the room whenever he wanted by knocking down the walls, ceiling, door or floor. It wouldn't even be difficult. With the careless headbutt he had already opened a small hole in the floor.

But with the shackles still tightening around his wrists and ankles, he wouldn't get very far. War or Famine would catch him right away.

More likely Hunger, from the sounds reaching him from outside the guests had already arrived, starting the fight. And he doubted Hunger was fighting shoulder to shoulder with her sister.

For all her status as a Horseman of the Apocalypse, he didn't know if her powers were adequate for a direct battle. In fact, he didn't know what she could do besides act like a damn bitch. She had sucked his dick and also paid attention to the crown jewels. If she just wanted him to get her pregnant, she would have gone straight to the point instead of using the lips up top. God knows he had gotten hard fast enough. All that foreplay had been completely unnecessary.

Ahem, the point is that as long as he didn't get rid of the shackles, it would be quite easy to catch him, but maybe the cavalry would provide the distraction he needed to slip away. He didn't know, but it was worth a try. It was clear that this was his best opportunity. His situation wouldn't improve by waiting with his arms crossed.

Somehow Christina and Violet had managed to find him and send him help, some kind of magic, he supposed.

But when War took him out of here, they would surely lose his trail and his situation would get worse with every second. First, they would meet the other two sisters and he was in no hurry to be literally face to face with Death, no sir, but that would only be the beginning.

They would try all kinds of things to make him surrender to his master's desires. To submit, yielding his will, his body, his life.

And when all that failed, because it would fail, what would be next? Slit his throat and let him fall into hell, handing him over to Satan on a silver platter? Since they couldn't have his body, at least they could torture him to get even. Or maybe even death would not be an obstacle. What told him that Satan couldn't resurrect the dead? Castiel had walked around there and almost killed him in what was essentially a corpse, keeping him alive until he saw no choice but to flee with his tail between his legs.

It was a terrifying possibility.

If when they got bored of trying to get his manipulation by other means they could just do that, he was doomed. He would accept. Even that was worse than an eternity trapped in hell.

But it wasn't worth thinking about the future when his present was so uncertain in the first place. If he didn't hurry, it would all be over soon.

He left the room by opening a hole in the floor and protecting his head from the fall. He could have gone through one of the walls, but for fear of suddenly encountering some special defense, he had chosen a more indirect route.

He landed rather clumsily, rolling on the floor.

He had to lean on a piece of furniture to manage to get to his feet. The shackles did not leave him completely defenseless, but they impeded his movements too much. He took a deep breath, went out into the hallway...

And as expected, Hunger was there to welcome him. Smiling, pushing him against the wall with one hand. It reminded him, just as before, of a cat playing with its prey. He would have given anything not to end up in her claws again, but here he was once again. What an endless days he had been having since he left the mansion, damn it. He was supposed to have already gotten past the hard part.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Sam gritted his teeth, tensed his whole body. Okay, if he had to fight, he would fight.

"Get out of my way."

"Give me a good reason to do it." Famine leaned forward, showing off her charms. For a moment he could have sworn her eyes had turned purple. "After all, you have something I want."

"Yeah. Then I'll give it to you if you help me."

I Am the One Who Rings Death's Bell, Part 13: END

 

[DemiurgeMal]

i love this story. It's so different.
i also like waifus.
more world building would be nice. What's true and what's false.

 

[MadsGM]

Chapter 60: I Am the One Who Rings Death's Bell, Part 14

"Oh yeah? Are you going to give me something I can take whenever I want?" Hunger asked, licking her lips like the cheap whore she was. "We're all alone, my sister is a bit busy right now."

"The last time, I didn't resist because I was afraid the ice would reach me, afraid to die. But this time, I won't make it so easy for you. Because now I know I can survive that." Naturally, the wound on her stomach had healed a long time ago. The only thing that hadn't disappeared without a trace was the blood. "And because you're not pinning me to the ground."

Hunger shrugged.

"So what? I like resistance, at least as a prelude to submission. It only excites me more."

"There won't be any submission. I'm offering you my cooperation. If you help me get out of here, we'll meet wherever you say, and I'll give you what you want. We'll do it as many times as it takes for you to have your little antichrist."

"Once is enough. Give me your seed," Hunger placed a hand on her stomach, caressing it, tracing slow circles, "My lands are very fertile."

Sam suppressed the shiver threatening to shake him.
"Whatever. Do we have a deal? I hope you're not as stupid as you look and realize the value of what I'm offering."

Even though he wanted to take those words back, it was too late. But he couldn't help it. If there was one thing he needed more than anything else, it was control, and that monster had dared to take it away for endless minutes.

Would he pay for that?

For losing control of his emotions again?

——

"Run!"

Christina followed her own advice.

She immediately turned around and ran without looking back. She didn't need to see to know War was coming straight for her, running. She could hear the quick steps, the dust being kicked up, and her heavy breathing, like that of a wild animal.

Her older sister wasn't here to protect her, to take the consequences in her place, so this time she wouldn't get away with just a shattered knee. If she got caught, she would die instantly.

I'm scared.

She didn't have some kind of extra regeneration like Sam. She was as human as anyone. Just as fragile.

Afraid to die.

I'm so scared.

Violet planted her feet on the ground, suddenly stopping. She didn't need to look in that direction to understand what her ears were telling her, but Christina looked anyway, driven by the desperate feeling that it might be the last time she would see her older sister. And then she would be practically alone in the world. No, Sam didn't count in the middle of this nightmare. She would be alone, hunted.

But that's not what happened.

Violet barely had time to form a barrier of earth in front of herself.

She had done it to protect her, that much was clear. To give her a bit more time, just the faint hope of slowing down that monster. War broke through the barrier into a thousand pieces simply by running, and Violet...

"Sister!"

She flew against the wall of a building, crashing through it.

She couldn't stop.

She couldn't check if she was okay.

She kept running and slipped into another one of those buildings. A bar, or rather, a tavern.

Through the windows, she saw what she already knew, the only thing she could expect. The puppets swarmed the cavalry they had dragged to their death, and the night air filled with screams and flying blood. The smell reached her easily.

They couldn't even put up real resistance.

Unlike the ones that had attacked them in that house, these weren't playing. They had received the order to run and finish their prey from the start.
They couldn't handle the puppets, much less War.

The tavern doors swung open wide. A cold wind howled and seemed to cut through everything.

"Don't hide in the dark like a rat. Don't you want revenge? Don't you want to break legs, like I did with yours? From the look on your face, I thought you'd be a worthy opponent, but how quickly everything changed, how quickly you ran with your tail between your legs. Disappointing."

Yes, War hadn't seen her yet.

Before she had entered, Christina had hidden in the most obvious place in the world. Behind the bar. There she was, curled up, trembling. Much to her dismay. She had never felt so much fear. Naturally. Born into a great family, raised in wealth and privilege, this was literally the first time in her life that there was no one to protect her. Just herself.

Whether she lived or died here was entirely her responsibility. For the first time in her life. And that brought her no comfort or sense of liberation.

But she could no longer hide behind her great family, ah, so few of them were left... and it was her responsibility to protect those who remained. As much as she was the younger sister, she had to be strong. The last three pillars. All of them had to be unshakable, or the structure would inevitably collapse.

War kept walking slowly, moving forward.

She didn't need to look to know it. Damn, like she had said, it was the most obvious place to hide. But it wasn't a mistake. It was just that she hadn't had enough time to do anything else, damn it.

"I suppose you're too afraid of dying to face me, so I'll give you a reason to show me your claws." War suddenly stopped halfway, more or less.

What was she talking about? She already had enough motivation. She had her brother, and she'd do anything to bring him back. Was she referring to Violet?

No.

That wasn't it.

"You know the names of my sisters, right? Well, one of them is with me. Hunger. And your little sister made her very hungry." War licked her lips disgustingly. "She tried to rape him. I caught her with his dick in her mouth, she was almost there."

Her blood ran cold.

But then, as if replaced by lamp oil, her body burned from head to toe. She gritted her teeth. That bitch, that bitch she didn't even know, had dared to lay a hand on him? She could tolerate sharing him with Violet if it came to that, but with a complete stranger, with a monster?

She had sucked him off, drooled all over him like a damn dog.

And the worst part, with the intention of getting pregnant. She hadn't crossed the line. She hadn't had time. But the intention was all that mattered. Whether it was out of lust, some plan, she didn't care about the reason, but she had tried to beat her to it!

She was going crazy with rage.

For the first time in her life, she felt she could gut someone with a smile on her face.

Especially because that Hunger wasn't on the battlefield. She had stayed behind, so now she had a free path to do whatever she wanted.

No, she thought. Not while I'm still breathing. Damn it.

Christina jumped onto the bar and leapt toward the enemy, twin spears of water in her hands and more water shooting out behind her, not just water, but the abundant liquid in this place, alcohol and wine.

She pulled from anything, forced her magic harder than she ever had, all to destroy that bitch as fast as possible.

Christina had completely lost her fear. Now, she didn't even consider War her enemy, just a mere obstacle.

She saw red.

She couldn't even breathe properly.

I Am the One Who Rings Death's Bell, Part 14: END

 

[meloa789]

You forgot the threadmark.

 

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Chapter 61: I Am the One Who Rings Death's Bell, Part 15

"That's a very, very tempting offer, but we have a small problem that's actually quite important," said Hunger. "How am I supposed to trust you?"

"I was hoping you'd have some way to resolve that. I don't know, some kind of unbreakable demon contract, or at least one with a consequence that any sane person would prefer to avoid. Something like that," Sam replied.

"I'm afraid nothing so convenient exists," Hunger retorted. "For starters, I'm not a demon, I can't make contracts as I please, that's not how things work."

"I see."

Well then this would be a problem, Sam thought.

Hunger had no reason to trust him. If she wasn't given some guarantee, the easiest thing would be to turn around and not fulfill what was promised. He surely didn't seem particularly convincing after having resisted so fervently in that basement, at least in word, if not in deed.

He came to a quick conclusion. He didn't like it, but it was the kind of decision he would make with a cool head. And he had a cool head, despite his nerves. That is, it was the right decision, without a doubt, no matter how much he disliked it. No, precisely because he disliked it.

"I'll give you Violet as a hostage."

Yes, Violet.

He did indeed have a cool head, but that didn't mean he wanted to bet his most prized toy. Hunger didn't need to know which was his favorite. It didn't matter.

"Am I supposed to believe that you care about her at all? Because that's the only way she has any value as a hostage," Hunger crossed her arms under her chest, looking at him as if he were trying to deceive her, as if he thought she was stupid, when it was nothing more than a genuine offer.

Briefly, he wondered if Satan felt that way on the rare occasions he chose honesty, with all that reputation as the prince of lies and all that. Well, it surely always followed him. Anyway, it was funny to think about those things, but priorities, he had to focus.

"I do care, okay? I'm not saying I'm going to kiss her feet, or that I'm going to die if she dies, but I don't want to lose her as a sexual toy. That's something you should understand very well, right?"

Hunger smiled.

"True. My sister, War, is more about making others submit, taking away their will. But I seek pleasure above all. I seek reciprocity, you understand?"

It's funny you say that. Bitch.

"I'm not interested in what you seek. I just hope you now understand that Violet is a valuable hostage."

Hunger nodded several times, slowly.

"We'll do it that way then. It shouldn't need saying, but Violet doesn't have to know anything about the exchange. Nothing, you hear me? I have a reputation to maintain. If you reveal me, I'll lose it. That's what I'm putting in your hands, apart from her life. It's very important to me. So help me get out of this shithole, okay? Then we'll look for her. We'll look for her and I'll give her to you."

"No need to look for her. She's here, with your other sister."

Sam was stunned.

They had come for him, despite the risks.

They had come, defying any common sense.

He didn't understand it and wasn't sure he wanted to understand it. It was good that his toys were so devoted, but it wasn't pleasant, for some reason, to think about that. About the madness they were committing, even though they had made the deal more convenient for him.

"Okay, don't tell her anything. You have to make it seem natural, if not, there's no deal."

"I got you, kid. I got you."

"Okay, alright. We have a deal."

Hunger extended a hand forward. Sam looked at it for a long moment, disgusted. Well, the end justified the means. He shook that disgusting whore's hand as hard as he could, that is, without trying to break her bones or rip off her hand. It was more to send a message.

"Agreed. And if you screw me over, I'll screw you over, but not in the way you want. You hear me?"

"Yes, yes, I'm looking forward to our exchange. An exchange not of hostages, but a hostage for a fuck. It might be the first time in history that something like this happens."

Hunger laughed. She didn't take anything seriously. For Sam, this woman was repugnant in every possible way.

That's why I had to hand over my older sister on a silver platter, just to convince her that I won't back out of fucking her after all.

But there were other ways to resist that deal. He would fuck her, okay. And if her grounds were as fertile as she said, then that monster would get pregnant with his seed.

But he highly doubted the little antichrist would come out so quickly.

She might not be in labor for nine months, but it wouldn't be born in a few days or weeks either. The thing is, he would have time to find her and kill her to get rid of her and the disgusting offspring that should never be born. To open its mother's womb, rip it from the uterus and smash it against the nearest rock until the damn thing stopped moving.

Sam smiled like an angel.

——

Determination was important, no doubt. You couldn't win if you didn't even believe in yourself. But determination was just that, a feeling.

It couldn't perform miracles. It couldn't make the impossible, possible.

Christina already knew that, but she painfully remembered it right away, with the most crushing and definitive defeat of her life. Leaving her completely at the mercy of a monster.

She raised her head to look at her death.

I Am the One Who Rings Death's Bell, Part 15: END

 

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Chapter 62: I Am the One Who Rings Death's Bell, Part 16

Why had she lost?

The answer was painfully simple. A fight was something that happened between two people who could harm each other. Therefore, what had occurred wasn't even a fight. But she had let herself be carried away by her fleeting feelings and lunged at the enemy as if her righteous anger were enough to change the situation.

Books might work that way, but reality didn't. Willpower wasn't enough, and what should happen, apparently, occurred rather infrequently.

She couldn't fight her. Nevertheless, she had let herself be carried away, so now she would pay the price. Her miserable life. So long. So short.

So painfully short.

If only she could see his face one more time.

The tentacles came to kill her without mercy, incredibly fast.

Her body moved without any spirit. She knew that even if she dodged the attack, the next one would tear her apart. It wasn't that she had lost her survival instinct due to desperation. Her actions were simply those of someone who recognized she was already dead.

But once again, she was completely wrong.

The tentacles exploded into pieces without touching her, for the most part.

Some fell near her, embedding themselves in the wooden floor like enormous spears, but that was all. Christina was intact.

Physically, at least.

Her pride not so much, but that wasn't what she was thinking about now. Her heart was racing.

"Sammy!" She turned with her heart in her throat.

Only Violet had saved her at the last moment.

Well, that was a horrible way to put it. Of course, she was happy to see Violet, to know that she was more or less okay after that attack, that it hadn't been so bad. And she was grateful that she still had her head on her shoulders.

But it's just...

It's just that she had wanted so badly to see him.

The truth is that she had lost her spirit. Even with Violet's help, she no longer believed they could defeat War. So the crushing disappointment she felt was because most of her assumed that this had been the last chance to see her brother.

She knew that was the wrong way to think.

That if she assumed defeat, there really was no hope, but it wasn't that easy. Not after everything she had seen. It wasn't nearly as easy as it should be. To have courage, to fight. Even though she had always been taught to be persistent, to not bow her head to anyone.

For a moment, she thought her parents would be ashamed of her if they knew. For being a coward. For dishonoring the Wright name.

As if they weren't underground.

As if the Wright mansion hadn't burned to the ground.

As if her mother hadn't died even before the rest of her relatives, without her even knowing it. They had noticed something was wrong with her, that's why they had tried to keep her away from Sam when what happened with that boy happened. With Ivor.

But they hadn't known anything.

They had had no way of knowing, and even if they had found out by some miracle, they wouldn't have been able to change anything. That was something Christina knew perfectly well. That Violet knew perfectly well, she wasn't the only one obsessed with these thoughts.

Yes, she wasn't the only one.

She wasn't alone.

Christina stood up, standing beside her sister. Side by side. As firm as they could be, both in pain, tired, despite the fact that it had only just begun.

This farce. This hell.

"You should have run away without looking back," said War, tilting her head like a bird, as if to study Violet better. "Little fool. What do you think you've achieved? Stopping a single attack? I'm going to gut you and your little sister too."

"Maybe, but it's my family. I guess a monster like you can't understand what that means."

War frowned softly. She put a hand on one of her hips. She didn't need her hands free to kill them, anyway.

"Maybe I do, maybe I don't. In any case, I don't get along with my sisters."

"What a pathetic creature," said Violet. "I almost feel sorry for you, then."

War snorted.

"Ha. We'll see if you have so much courage when I make you choke on your own blood."

Then, as if the situation wasn't bad enough, the door opened and a woman entered the tavern. She wasn't wearing armor, so you didn't need to be a genius to realize she couldn't be on their side. Although Christina would never have guessed just how much worse the situation had become.

"Sister," said War. "You show up now, when everything is about to end? Typical, lazy bitch. I imagine that means you've had fun with Samuel."

Christina's blood boiled even before seeing the woman's smile in response, apparently confirming her words. I can't let myself be carried away by my emotions again. I have to keep control.

Perhaps their chances of victory were nil, but if she lost her composure, she really wouldn't have any.

"Yes, I'm done with him."

War spat.

"Well, come on, help me with the cleanup, whore. And you'll have to explain it to the boss yourself. Damn irresponsible bitch."

The other monster pointed at her sister with a finger.

"What the hell are you doing?"

And she fired, exploding her right shoulder, sending her flying against and through the wall at the other end of the room.

Christina tried to keep her hopes in check. The fact that the newly arrived woman, one of the horsemen of the apocalypse, was against War, her sister, didn't mean she was on their side, no sir. Why would a horseman of the apocalypse be on the side of the humanity they wanted to exterminate with fire and blood? But then, another person entered the tavern. Sam. The expression of the boy, the love of her life, softened when he saw them. Violet too, but especially when he saw her. That made her heart race in a not at all unpleasant way.

"I know it's confusing," Sam said, "but that's precisely why it's too long to explain now."

"I fucked him!" said the woman, the damn bitch. "It's not long at all. Long is what I put in."

"Shut up, Hunger, shut up for once. That didn't happen, remember we have a deal, fulfill that deal, finish what you started."

"Anyway. Men." Hunger tossed her hair back, her long hair, as she advanced towards the cloud of dust that covered the hole that had undoubtedly been opened in that wall with the body of her own sister.

Christina swallowed. She had already been reunited with her brother, but what remained, the escape and everything else, could it be as easy as it seemed right now?

War emerged from the smoke, her face twisted with rage. The wound on her shoulder was still visible, but it was almost closed, even the blood had almost completely disappeared. The blood that stained, that had stained War, and the blood that had been spilled on the floor. What magic that was.

"So you've betrayed me," War said, "nowadays you can't trust anyone, not even your own sister."

Hunger shrugged. "Of course, we're the horsemen of the apocalypse, we're here to destroy the world, not to hold hands and sing Kumbaya."

I Am the One Who Rings Death's Bell, Part 16: END

 

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Chapter 63: I Am the One Who Rings Death's Bell, Part 17

"At least have the decency to tell me what that little brat offered you, to make you stab your own sister in the back," War said, her body perfectly still. For now.

But Sam was on edge anyway. Even behind Hunger, even with the protection and aid of her sisters, he knew how fast that cursed bitch could move. And worse still, he hadn't figured out a way to break through her defenses yet, meaning Hunger was the only one on their side who could actually fight.

Everything hinged on someone who, until recently, had been an enemy. Someone who had violated him (it hadn't gone as far as penetration, sure, but it still felt like a violation), and someone he didn't even know well enough to trust. Not trust in the usual sense—that wasn't even a consideration—but to manipulate her, to make her play along.

He'd tried to get her to reveal War's weakness, but she'd refused. She'd argued that her goal was to defeat War, let them escape, and claim her reward— not sign her own death warrant. Because afterward, she said, War would want to gut her regardless of their sisterhood.

It made sense, and Sam had realized there was no convincing her otherwise, so he'd given up and focused on attacking before it was too late. He hadn't given himself up for his sisters, his so-called sex toys, only for them to die trying to rescue him.

He still couldn't believe they were actually here, risking their lives when they could've left this suicide mission to someone else. It made no sense to him.

It was the kind of thing he'd do—but for entirely different reasons. Because he only trusted himself to get the job done. The only exception was a case like this, where he literally couldn't do it himself.

But he knew Violet and Christina well enough to manipulate them, to make them dance to his tune, just like he had from the beginning. He knew that wasn't their reason for coming here. They hadn't come out of distrust or for some selfish motive—they'd come out of love.

He didn't get it at all, and he still wasn't sure how to feel about it. But he didn't need to feel anything. Not until they got out of Wormwood. Until then, his mind needed to stay blank, focused solely on the uncertain matter of survival. He always had bigger problems to worry about.

"Are you not going to answer me?" War asked, her voice dripping with disdain. "Well, I suppose it doesn't matter since I already know. As hard as it is to believe. Do you really want so badly to be his whore, to bear his child?"

"No." Hunger smiled. She didn't care what her sister thought of her, and besides, she wasn't wrong. "We're going to kill Satan together."

But Hunger responded with the lie they'd rehearsed.

Sam relaxed a little. He hadn't been sure she'd play along until now.

Of course, he didn't trust her. He barely trusted himself most of the time. But he had to admit, so far, she was keeping her word to the letter.

In response, War shook her head. Her eyes gleamed with that ghostly purple glow again, her gaze sharp, disgusted, like she was looking at a bug crawling across the road. Nothing more.

"You've truly lost your mind. The Morning Star has only one enemy. Only God, who clearly has no intention of showing his face no matter what, could ever defeat him. Not that mutt."

"Believe what you want, little sister. It's not like I'm asking your permission." Hunger shrugged.

"Alright, I get it. If you're so eager to die, I'll kill you myself. Whatever I do to you will be a thousand times better than what Lucifer would if he got his hands on you."

"Is this the part where I say, 'thank you, how thoughtful of you'?"

"Exactly!"

Roaring like the wild animal she was—and they both were—War lunged at her sister. When she wasn't toying with her prey, she could move at a blinding speed, Sam had to admit.

If only Hunger were the weak little slut who wanted to get knocked up, it would've made things a whole lot simpler. He could only hope Hunger would prove able to rise to the challenge, or they were all screwed.

"Let's run," Violet whispered, tugging at his arm.

Sam shook his head. He'd love to, but it wasn't an option.

"I made a deal. If we leave now, we're done for. We all escape together, or none of us do."

It seemed absurd to him that she hadn't even let him run while Hunger bought them time—another one of her ridiculous conditions. Since his position was the weakest, he'd had no choice but to agree. He still hadn't ruled out the possibility she'd betray them. If he were in her shoes, he'd have demanded the same thing. Trust no one. Especially not someone you couldn't see.

He didn't know her, couldn't predict her moves, and the same applied to her.

It was clear that they both needed to be in each other's sights to feel at ease.

Hunger and War clashed violently in the middle of the storm. The tentacles were a whirlwind, little more than dark purple blurs cutting through the air. There were dozens of them, appearing out of nowhere, moving so fast it seemed impossible to avoid them, especially at such close range.

But Hunger dodged them all anyway.

Not through magic, not by using some mysterious defense system like War's. She moved, dodging them physically. Sam had to squint just to keep up with her movements.

They were on a whole different level. Both of them.

Hunger shot at her sister again (hell if Sam knew what with), and this time the wall she smashed through was further to the right. It was like she'd tossed her sister out into the street, like a guy thrown out of a bar for drinking one too many.

War hit the ground hard, teeth clenched. She ground them like two nuts in a press.

The attack might not have caused any damage she couldn't heal in a few seconds or minutes, but it had wounded something far more important: her pride.

And Sam was still far from discovering War's secret—the fatal weakness that would let him tear her apart.

As far as he could tell, Hunger wasn't doing anything special. Just attacking. The only difference was that her attacks, for some reason, actually hit their target. Just because.

Because she was a Horseman of the Apocalypse too, he guessed.

In any case, it didn't help him. Frustrating. Sam vaguely registered that, once again, the Puppets were the only living things (if you could call them that) in this cold, dead city. The cavalry that Violet and Christina had worked so hard to bring here had been completely wiped out.

Well, he could still see and hear some of them clinging to life, but they were just dying slowly now. Their gasps and gurgles, choking on their own blood like fountains, filled the air. It sounded like frightened animals. They might still have a heartbeat, but they were as good as dead.

They weren't "breathing." He couldn't even say they were capable of breathing.

That's how bad they were.

They followed Hunger out of the tavern at a relatively safe distance. The Puppets stood still, just like their mistress, waiting for orders.

"I'm going to make you suffer for this," War said. "Over and over again, until I'm satisfied."

Interesting.

Even though Hunger had pushed this far, War wasn't talking about killing her. Sam suppressed the urge to laugh, mostly because drawing attention to himself right now would be... inconvenient. Mostly? Well, there wasn't really another reason.

Interesting, though, that they were still sisters in the end. That they had a concept of family.

That would make them weak. Something to remember.

Hunger raised her right arm again.

She fired, but whatever the projectile was, War must have dodged it because Sam didn't see anything. And then she was across the distance between them again.

"Why doesn't she attack from afar?" Christina muttered, eyes locked on the battle. Watching. Waiting. Analyzing.

She was full of determination, but what did she mean? War could attack from a distance too, and yet she was choosing to close the gap? If that was the case, why? There was always a reason.

Was there some kind of risk for Hunger if she attacked from this range, even though it had worked perfectly the last time?

He couldn't think of anything else.

Could it really just be a matter of preference? Or was he being stupid? He'd just said it—Hunger had no intention of killing her sister, and even War herself was holding back. This wasn't a battle. You couldn't call it a battle if neither side had a killing instinct.

Without the intent to kill, their movements didn't need to be optimal.

Sam felt satisfied for having figured that out, though it didn't really change the situation.

Without knowing how to bypass War's defense system (assuming it was even possible for someone other than her sisters, and for his sanity's sake, he had to assume it was), nothing he could do would make a difference.

Everything was in Hunger's hands now.

"This reminds me of when we were younger, always fighting," Hunger said.

"That never stopped."

"Oh, really?"

Hunger let out a laugh that could almost be called sweet.

She held the lives of all three of them in her hands, not to mention the promised prize at stake, yet she still wasn't taking it seriously. She acted like she was just playing with her sister, whether older or younger, whatever.

"If they aren't taking it seriously, then we'll have to do something ourselves," Sam whispered. He really didn't want to draw attention. The sound of his voice was almost completely drowned out when, suddenly, half a dozen Puppets were sent flying through the air.

In pieces.

He had no idea if it was the result of Hunger's attacks or her sister's. With so many tentacles blindly flailing about, it was probably her sister's doing.

"Do what exactly?" Christina asked.

"Dammit, I wish I knew."

I Am the One Who Rings Death's Bell, Part 17: END

 

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Chapter 64: I Am the One Who Rings Death's Bell, Part 18

The full moon. A giant blind eye. Its light fell on the blood scattered across the ground and the limbs strewn about. Under the moonlight, that sea of blood didn't even seem real. As if it would vanish the moment you looked away.

The blood of people who had stopped being people. The blood of those who had come here thinking it would be a simple mission to rescue an aristocratic brat from a madwoman.

But both were merely human.

He was different. Special. He wouldn't die and disappear in a place like this. In this world, Sam was a completely unique existence, and he intended to keep it that way. That's why the Antichrist Hunger desired would never be born.

And if it was, he would at least make sure he was there to crush its skull, preventing it from becoming a threat to his special existence.

But now, the fight. War against Hunger. Hunger had called her little sister. And, so far, it seemed that Hunger was indeed much stronger.

It made sense. Wars didn't happen all the time. Maybe at first, but even then, those conflicts were on such a small scale that they could barely be called wars. And with the progress of civilization, wars would naturally become less frequent.

But everyone felt Hunger.

If things worked like that, it was no wonder that up until now, War had floundered, unable to do anything. The fight couldn't be more one-sided. Things were going well. Too well, naturally.

If there was a problem with this, it was the fact that they weren't trying to kill each other. No matter how superior an opponent was, it was much easier to defeat someone trying to kill you if you weren't willing to respond in the same way. War was holding back for now, but that could change in an instant. And she had more reasons to change than Hunger.

If things kept going like this and War felt cornered enough, Hunger could lose the fight before realizing War had turned into a true enemy.

Therefore...

"We have to do something, but what? What the hell do we do?"

"When we got here, I managed to hit her," said Christina.

"Really?"

"Of course! It's just... I don't know how I did it. I'm still trying to figure it out."

"Tell me exactly what happened."

Christina did.

It couldn't be because War didn't see the attack coming, right? That the defense required her to be aware of what was coming, and any surprise attack would work on her? That seemed too simple.

Similarly, the other more obvious possibility—that the key was that Christina hadn't seen War—was even harder to believe.

He could dismiss that immediately, in fact.

It was something even a fool would think of, so he could safely assume Christina had tested it, closing her eyes and failing.

Beyond the most obvious ideas that anyone would come up with, and therefore wouldn't be the answer, what did he have?

Sam smiled like a wild beast. His spirit and body filled with vigor once more. After all, he was back in the fight. Now he was a "fighter" again, someone who could hurt his enemies.

His eyes burned anew. The flames of hell flowing through his veins froze the space around him. A dozen, two dozen. The number of ice weapons grew rapidly. Not just "spears." They were no longer just spears. Swords, maces—he gave them all sorts of shapes.

His sisters looked at him but said nothing. It was obvious he was preparing to try something. No. Not try. He had found the answer.

He was sure. He just felt a little embarrassed that it hadn't occurred to him sooner.

War and Hunger were clashing in the air, making an unnecessarily flashy display of their powers. They couldn't fly. They had simply jumped and hadn't yet fallen to the ground. It wasn't advantageous for either of them, but once again, they were basically playing.

He wasn't.

He had never known how to lose, not even in, say, a simple video game. He held onto that resentment until the next time. He was petty to the extreme and proud of it.

"War, say hello to daddy dearest when you get to hell."

He didn't pay for gloating too early. War was too occupied with her sister, and couldn't know he had found the key.

Sam fired, and this time his attack hit.

Not most of the ice weapons, but enough. War fell to the ground, pierced through her torso, bleeding. She opened her mouth to speak, but all that came out was blood.

"What? How is this possible? You told him! You told him!"

Sam prepared more ice weapons but didn't fire. He had to wait. War's defense system, previously so overwhelming, now seemed childishly simple. She couldn't defend and attack at the same time. That was it.

He had to wait for her to attack again, strike at the right moment. That was all. Just that and nothing more.

"No, sister, I... I didn't..."

Hunger seemed genuinely affected by what had happened and the accusation. How amusing. He could cross out the word "seemed"—she had no reason to act.

"We had a deal!"

Not anymore. There were two reasons why she hadn't wanted to tell him War's secret weakness. She didn't want her dead because she was her sister, after all. But besides that, it would mean losing her advantage.

She had only been so desperate to make a deal with him because she was the only one who could stand up to War.

Now that things had changed...

"Yes, a deal with the Antichrist. Don't give me that nonsense. Any of us would've taken the first chance to betray the other. I just happened to be the first to find it. I told you. I told you you'd pay for this."

Every time he looked at her, it felt as if he had ants under his skin. He couldn't get rid of the humiliation with which she had marked him. Sam would rape women without thinking twice, so he supposed that taking it so personally would make him a hypocrite in the eyes of someone who knew his true nature. Sam didn't see it that way, however. He was consistent. Everything was acceptable as long as he did it.

In any case, the only way to feel clean again was this.

"I don't need War alive. Get out of my way or you'll die screaming too."

I Am the One Who Rings Death's Bell, Part 18: END

 

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Chapter 65: I Am the One Who Rings Death's Bell, Part 19

If he had done nothing, Hunger would have decisively defeated War and they would probably be out of here already. He was aware of that. Anyone would be, and it made sense that if you had an easy way to win, you'd pursue it. But that victory consisted of fleeing with their tails between their legs with no gain other than their survival. War and Hunger, pregnant or not, would certainly continue to be a problem. All he would achieve with that would be to gain time to catch his breath and plan his next move. When he couldn't aspire to more, that had been not only acceptable but his most fervent hope. But now he could aspire to more. He was capable of getting rid of half of the damn whores of the apocalypse, why should he waste the opportunity?

"We had a deal!" Hunger insisted, as if she felt truly betrayed.

"I didn't say anything about not killing War. You can have what you want if you step aside, or you can die screaming like her. But I already know what you're going to choose. So die."

Sam fired the various ice weapons. It was worth taking the time to mold them, even if it was just a few seconds, because after all, a few seconds could decide the outcome of a battle. The reason different types of weapons existed was that. There were spears, swords, maces and all that because the shape mattered, not just the material, which was always iron, or so he hoped it would also apply to ice, which would give him an advantage.

Anyway, he was no expert.

They flew out quickly. He couldn't reach War, as she was just lying on the ground, as if still trying to process the betrayal of her older sister, spitting blood from her mouth, her wounds regenerating, although he observed not as quickly as Hunger's attacks, for some reason.

Did his nature as Satan's son give his attacks a special boost?

In any case it was advantageous, don't look a gift horse in the mouth. He directed his attacks towards Hunger, who was the biggest threat. Hunger dodged it, as said, she didn't possess the same defense system as her sister, so she had to physically dodge, ducking, jumping, contorting. The damn woman slipped like a snake between the ice weapons and none of them hit the mark. Then Hunger raised an arm and aimed at him, firing that invisible charge. Sam gritted his teeth and prepared to receive the shot, even though he couldn't see it, all he had to do was catch it. He raised a large ice barrier in front of him, and then realized he should do the same in front of the three of them, to keep up appearances and for the value he believed the sisters had for him.

He raised the barrier as fast as he could, as strong as he could, solid, unbreakable.

He wished it was, but it shattered into a thousand pieces and he flew back along with the ice remnants, back to the tavern. He writhed, it hadn't been a direct hit or he would have lost his limbs, at the very least. What power that attack had, damn it.

Yes, Hunger was the biggest threat without a doubt, but it didn't matter. At least he knew, unlike with War a few minutes ago, that he could hurt her, that he could kill her. She had no special defense, no secret he had to unravel.

He got up again while Violet and Christina distracted, one couldn't say they did much more, Hunger with their attacks.

Now the sisters had a reason to ally against him. It wasn't a good situation, but the alternative was much worse in his opinion. Besides, he had a plan, a fucking good plan. He wouldn't have set it in motion if there wasn't a way to cling to victory. He wasn't that kid who had sabotaged his own mission to prove something to Rose, to Detective Adams and to everyone, to not feel inferior. This time he had a head as cold as hell. And his enemies would discover, like the Wright family, the bite of ice.

War slowly got up, taking a few wobbling steps towards her sister.

"Who would have thought we'd be fighting side by side again so soon?" said Hunger.

"Don't think I've forgiven you so easily," said War, with a grimace. "But for now we'll do what needs to be done, okay? Don't come at me with nonsense, sister."

"No, no. I didn't... I didn't want this to happen."

"I got it. Now move."

"Get into the tavern and go up to the first floor," Sam shouted, ordering.

He had no idea why he was saying it, but Christina didn't hesitate for a second to turn around and start running inside. In no time he saw her going up the stairs. Violet took a little longer, but eventually followed her little sister. Well, she was here, risking her neck for him. Despite everything, he couldn't ask for much more. It was already a miracle that she hadn't reported him to the authorities. He supposed it was more for what could happen to them than for him. But in the end, intention wasn't what counted, but results.

War and Hunger approached together. Just walking for now. Sam was right on the threshold. The tavern light illuminated his silhouette.

"You've made a serious mistake, Hunger. Do you think your sister is going to let it slide? This betrayal, this pain. The humiliation you've put her through. Shaking her around like a toy. Proving she's weaker. You could have had exactly what you wanted. But because of sentimentality, now all that's going to happen is that you'll die as soon as you lower your guard, at the hands of your own sister."

"You don't know us," said Hunger. It wasn't a particularly convincing answer. He wondered if Hunger herself believed what she was saying. He supposed she had to believe it.

"It's true, but I think it's enough to tell the truth. You're not called what you're called by chance. You're always hungry. A voracious hunger for everything. Because you're famished. You lack everything. And your sister's... Well, War is confrontational. War has hot blood. She would never back down from anything. And what she likes most is violence. But she's not going to applaud you for achieving the good maneuver of betraying her. No, sir. She'll make sure the enemy isn't close enough to try it again, like any good general in a war."

His shoulders shook slightly. It was forced laughter, but necessary.

"As I said, you don't know us," Hunger said simply. "After all, we are sisters. We are the only beings in this creation that resemble each other. Unlike you humans, who can go around killing any human that comes your way. Since you reproduce like rabbits, that at any moment I can step on hundreds or millions of you like ants and expect you to come out again. We are only four. And we stick together. No matter what."

Sam clicked his tongue. He hadn't expected his strategy to work, but he thought he had to try. Was it possible that Hunger had told the truth, that the bond between the sisters was so unbreakable? That was something to keep in mind anyway, for when he dealt with Death and the other sister. Pestilence. Just by the name, by how it affected or defined their personalities and what it suggested about their powers, he had no desire to encounter Pestilence. Death least of all.

But Pestilence would be, well, real fucking disgusting.

I Am the One Who Rings Death's Bell, Part 19: END

 

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Chapter 66: I Am the Chorus of Screams, Part 1

"I'm tired of talking," said War, taking a step forward. But Famine prevented her from continuing, placing an arm in front of her. Well, rather, she asked her not to continue. She couldn't really stop her from doing anything.

"Before the fight begins, I have a question: What do you think you're going to achieve, Sammy? Making your little sisters run to the first floor of that shitty tavern. What do you think you've accomplished? Stabbing me in the back and turning me against you? Now what? We sisters are working together. Do you really think you have a single chance of winning, when you couldn't even handle her or me separately?"

Famine laughed. If there was something Sam hated, it was people laughing at him, especially when their words had no basis.

"Is it the arrogance of being Satan's son, the Antichrist, about whom there are so many legends of bringing the world to ruin? Is that it, simple and pure arrogance? Did you inherit your daddy's pride, is that it?"

Sam stared at her intently. Around him, there was something like static electricity, as the air cooled and weapons formed. And yet, Famine and War simply stared back at him, as if his gathering of strength meant nothing.

"No, it's not about arrogance. I've shed that feeling forever. It's just that I know. I know perfectly well that I can kill you here. So I'll try. At the very least, one of you will fall. I swear by myself." After all, he had nothing else to swear by. Neither God nor Satan. Both could go fuck themselves.

"Okay, then I'll accept that you're not arrogant, just plain stupid," Famine replied.

Sam laughed, as she had done a moment ago.

"Think what you want."

The weapons flew towards the sisters. The time for talking was over. It had been over for a long time. This was the inevitable. In this dead city, filled only with corpses and broken dreams, Sam would settle scores with Famine and her sister. And if the other bitches wanted to make an appearance to try to screw him while they still had the chance, let them. He felt prepared to finish off Pestilence and, as for Death... well, he couldn't kill her like her sisters, so he could set aside the worst. Not worry about it.

Yes, he would resolve it, whatever happened. Any obstacle that got in his way would be destroyed, as always. That wasn't going to change, it didn't have to change.

War and Famine dodged the weapons, jumping to the sides. The various ice weapons fell in the place where they had been a moment ago, raising a large cloud of dust, but nothing more. Not a drop of blood was spilled. They had dodged them without problems.

Sam clicked his tongue and stepped back, entering the tavern. He could no longer hear his sisters, wherever they were. He hoped they would listen to him, that they would wait up there, instead of trying to come and bail him out, only to cause him more problems.

War burst into the tavern, throwing herself through one of the windows and rolling nimbly across the floor, even over the broken pieces of glass, without getting hurt. Graceful as a fucking panther. Famine, well, was a bit clumsier. She simply shattered the wall. In a very unnecessary way, she created her own door.

"Is this what you call power against us?" asked Famine, shrugging.

"Stop talking already. Fuck," War snapped.

What sisters. Sam hadn't known Famine for long, but it should be obvious that War couldn't make her abandon her annoying playful attitude that reminded him so much of a cat. But of course, without the part where it was cute. Because she couldn't be more repulsive, even if she were literally a bag of trash, pus, and other shit.

The sisters lunged at him. Normally, he would welcome such things with a smile on his face, but unfortunately, they didn't do it in the good sense. As they approached, Sam wished he had a sword or something, or at least more command of natural magic, not just the infernal one he had awakened with the murders. He hadn't had time to study a fucking thing, almost, of course. But that was no excuse.

He tried to keep them at bay, always maintaining a certain space between them, firing incessantly. He wasn't going to get tired. He wasn't sure he could get tired, no matter how much he persisted in the effort.

Famine received one of the attacks after so much dodging. In the end, she had no choice but to raise an arm and take an ice lance through the skin, flesh, and even bone. He heard it crunch and that was more satisfying than the blood on her pale skin, as if he were marking her as his own. Marking the person who had marked him, who had dared to rape him. Well, to try. To make a dent in his mask of absolute control that he had had since he arrived in this world.

No, he had arrived alone and scared, wondering if he hadn't gone mad. Wondering what the hell was going on. He had taken control when Satan appeared and entrusted him with a mission for which he was perfectly suited. Come on, as if he had been born only for that.

Sam tried to take advantage by lunging at Famine, physically trying to keep War away. He might not have a sword, but he didn't really need one either. His own body was a weapon thanks to superhuman strength. He grabbed Famine's injured arm, pulling it, trying to twist it, break it. But it didn't work. He could see her face, covered in sweat up close, writhing in pain. And it was the most unsatisfying, of course. But he couldn't break it. He wasn't strong enough and she didn't give him the chance to keep trying. The bitch, as if she hadn't done enough to his cock, kicked him. The air escaped from his lungs suddenly.

Sam curled up on himself, bringing a hand to his groin, unconsciously. As if that was going to calm his pain instead of the opposite. By the time he reacted, or rather tried to react, it was too late. Famine shot him at close range, and it didn't kill him. No, his body managed to resist, but it sent him to the first floor along with his sisters, breaking through the ceiling with his body. Well, he couldn't see his sisters anywhere, but they wouldn't be far.

Sam took a deep breath, coughing, feeling as if an elephant had run over him. Okay, the fight wasn't going too well so far, but it wasn't a matter of arrogance. He had a lot, a lot of confidence that he could handle those bitches. It was just a matter of time, he had already wounded War and Famine. With a decisive blow he could finish off both, he could end this forever. He just needed to play his cards right.

Sam got up, panting, before Famine, and then War, pursued him through the hole. They didn't want to give him any fucking respite, naturally. Who the fuck would? War's tentacles were still coming out of her skirt and (for once, Sam thought he didn't want to be close enough to see where the fuck the tentacles were attached, if they were attached anywhere) wrapped around his right arm.

Sam roared and slammed the tentacle against the wall, breaking the wall before the tentacle. But he injured it, so he could sink the fingers of his other hand into the tentacle and pull, and pull until he tore it off. The damn tentacle spilled a black fluid like ink everywhere, that being its blood.

I Am the Chorus of Screams, Part 1: END

 

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Chapter 67: I Am the Chorus of Screams, Part 2

Sam had managed to get rid of one tentacle, but it didn't give much relief. A dozen more bastards came at him, and he could only dodge by leaving the room, creating a hole in the wall, and throwing himself into the hallway, rolling through the dust and debris, then getting up and running again.

The tentacles had a limit. They couldn't stretch indefinitely as if made of rubber. They looked like the tentacles of an octopus—or more like a Kraken from the legends. A creature that very possibly existed in this world. He had no desire to test that hypothesis, though.

"So much confidence in yourself, and yet you're running like a rat!" War shouted.

She thought she could provoke him. How childish. As he'd said, he'd let go of arrogance. Neither she nor anyone else could make him trip over the same stone, not anymore.

Sam had all the advantages, especially the powers neither Satan nor they knew about. He was saving them for the right moment. They'd still be effective after losing the element of surprise, but he had to choose carefully when to reveal them. It would be a decisive moment that could determine the outcome of the battle. He could turn intangible like a shadow when cornered, flipping the situation in an instant.

It was a plan for victory, the simplest one that couldn't go wrong. The less complicated a plan, the easier it was to succeed. That had become very clear to him during the few weeks he'd spent at the Wright mansion—if he hadn't learned it in his previous life.

Sam kept losing ground, retreating, and yet he hadn't seen his sisters anywhere. Either they were being sensible and avoiding the fight, staying hidden, or they had taken the initiative to go up to the second floor. Sam didn't mind; on the contrary, it was fine with him. Things would get complicated if they showed up now. He wanted everything to be simple, to end in the blink of an eye. Paradoxically, the more help they provided, the harder it would be to achieve victory according to that plan.

How could they believe he was cornered if he had two allies fighting by his side?

Not to mention the possibility of them dying after all the effort he'd put into keeping them alive and submissive for his enjoyment.

War and Hunger attacked together; the tentacles kept chasing him relentlessly. Meanwhile, Hunger fired several shots from behind her younger sister. The advantage of fighting in a hallway was that, although he didn't have much room to maneuver, the attacks couldn't come from too many directions.

It was an invisible attack—a projectile—that he shouldn't have been able to dodge or even feel, but he had plenty of time to react, raising an ice barrier, though it exploded instantly.

And so it went. Three times he raised the barrier, and three times it shattered into a thousand pieces, but at least it blocked the projectiles and kept the tentacles at bay. That said, he was soon going to run out of hallway. He'd have to pick a door to throw himself through.

He frowned, getting ready. He made ice manifest right under where War would step a split second later, actually less than a tenth of a second, trapping her and sending her flying into the ceiling from the impact.

And at that moment, to his astonishment, spikes of earth grew from the ceiling, impaling War all over her body. Sam was stunned. What the hell was that? What incredible coordination. How had Violet seen that coming when even he hadn't?

It looked like they'd planned it out, but no, they hadn't.

Hunger laughed shamelessly, taunting, "Caught like a fly."

They were always bickering like sisters, pushing and teasing each other, yet he hadn't been able to break their bond or turn them against each other. Strange.

Hunger stomped, shattering all the earth spikes, ignoring her sister's frustrated growls as she fell and landed.

"I see you! Now I've got you!" Hunger sang out, like a deadly warning.

She fired toward the ceiling. Sam tensed, knowing he couldn't react blindly, not through another floor. He braced himself, watching closely, waiting to see a blood-soaked limb fall through the curtain of smoke—not just ceiling debris—but nothing fell. Apparently, or so he hoped, Christina and Violet had narrowly saved themselves. Or, at the very least, he hoped they were still alive.

Sam bit his lower lip hard, drawing blood. At the very least, he hoped they hadn't been seriously injured. He knew it wasn't certain. It wasn't safe.

"You're all like rats," Hunger said. "Must be a family thing."

They kept advancing, cornering him—just as he wanted. And then the moment arrived.

That damn dog's tentacles shot toward him, and he had no space to maneuver, no room to dodge, and no time to form the ice barrier. So he was impaled all over his body, just like War had been moments earlier. The way the tentacles twisted and pushed inside told him this had become personal a long, long time ago.

War took a few steps forward, intending to finish him off. Well, to knock him out. As much as she might have wanted to, she couldn't kill him.

But he could, and his chance had come.

Hunger seemed to sense something and shouted a warning to her sister, but it was too late.

Sam turned intangible like a shadow, slipping out of the damned tentacles' grip, and thrust one of his arms through War's chest, slipping through her ribs as well, until he reached her heart. When he felt his hand pass through the organ, he broke out of his shadow state.

Every creature in this world needed a heart, and now he had hers in his hand.

I Am the Chorus of Screams, Part 2: END

 

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Chapter 68: I Am the Chorus of Screams, Part 3

Hunger had so fervently pursued obtaining his body and a child of his, but in the end, Sam stole her sister's heart. It was funny and he also destroyed it in the following way: by getting rid of his shadow state with his hand inside the heart, for naturally when he became solid again, the organ exploded into a thousand pieces.

He knew perfectly well that War was an extraordinary being, a horseman of the Apocalypse. He could survive many things that he could take for granted, that he and his sisters could endure, but not the loss of a heart, he didn't believe it. As extraordinary as she was, she had two arms and two legs, spoke his language, and her brain was in her skull. She wasn't a life form so different from human beings; in fact, as far as he knew, perhaps the bodies he saw were nothing more than vessels, just like Belphegor and Castiel, who had only dragged some poor bastards as wrappers.

So it should work, that's what Sam thought as he pulled his arm out of the hole in War's chest. It should work. The last thing he needed was for War to prove she could survive without a heart, unable to breathe, without blood pumping through her body. That would be crazy, but his heart filled with relief when he saw War fall to her knees before him, her body going limp, powerless, as if she were surrendering, as if she were prostrating herself before him. The feeling of conquest that overwhelmed him was intoxicating, even though her eyes, dimmed, seemed to no longer even recognize him.

Was she dead so easily? Well, no. Tentacles shot out towards the hole in her chest and intertwined there, right in the gap left by the heart. Through the bloody mess, Sam saw how the tentacles joined together forming a substitute heart, which immediately began to pump. What madness. He couldn't have expected this. His eyes widened, he took a step back. It wasn't as sure a victory as he had hoped and desired, and now he couldn't repeat the same trick a second time. That was more than clear.

"Well played," said War, spitting hard, trembling from head to toe. "Well played, I admit it. This will take me some time to recover, but I'll do it gladly. I'll suffer whatever it takes. When I finish tearing you apart, you little son of a bitch... No one has ever hurt me like this, no one has ever humiliated me in such a way, and you're going to pay for it. You've made the grave mistake of turning Hunger against you, even though you had no fucking idea and still don't have any of what I'm capable of. You should have humbly accepted her help under any terms, but now it's too late. You're going to die."

War pointed a finger at him, then took that finger to her mouth and bit it so hard that blood gushed out and the bone was heard cracking. Writhing, she screamed: "You're going to pay for this," she said, spitting her own blood with each syllable. "Your sisters will see how I destroy you."

Sam turned around and ran upstairs, towards the support he needed, but no matter how enraged War was, she didn't take such a detoured path but the most direct one. Naturally, with her tentacles, she propelled herself up through the hole in the wall towards his sisters. Hitting him where it hurt, Sam flinched and changed course.

War fired at his sisters. He didn't see anything, but he heard enough, and Hunger also opened fire on him. He had to dodge as best he could while running towards the hole, throwing himself to the ground, sliding. He must have looked pathetic, but as long as he ended up emerging as the victor, it didn't matter what he looked like. Pride could be eaten by dogs; what counted were the results, not the means.

Sam dodged Hunger 's invisible projectiles for quite some time, but eventually his luck ran out. One of the shots provided him with an explosion of pain that ran through his entire body. His mind went blank, but that was it, that was all. Just that. He sighed with relief to see that he had only lost his right arm.

Sam jumped through the hole, landing where War had landed a moment ago, who was about to finish what she had started. Sam intervened, and the tentacles pierced him deeply from side to side.

"No!" Who screamed? Christina? Violet? Himself full of fear and rage? He didn't know, but they had really fucked him up, that he knew very clearly.

I Am the Chorus of Screams, Part 3: FIN

 

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Chapter 69: I Am the Chorus of Screams, Part 4

Sam had intervened at the last moment, taking the tentacles meant to shred his little sister into his own body. It wasn't a logical or rational decision; he had prioritized his fleeting plans and desires over his own survival. But what could be done? The proud, selfish, and greedy one... he wanted it all. The tentacles writhed in his wounds. That bitch War wanted to make it hurt as much as possible. It wasn't enough to stab him. She wanted to tear him apart from the inside. She's returning the favor, Sam thought. And then he laughed. Except that I... if she destroys my heart, I can't regenerate it. Other organs maybe, but not the heart.

"Sammy!" Christina shouted, approaching. A ball of water swirled in her left hand, ready to be fired.

Sam raised his leg and stomped on the floor. The wood, already weakened by War, gave way, opening a hole in the ceiling. What had once been the ceiling came down completely, and they fell.

War didn't land too gracefully. Not with feline agility, but rather stumbling. And even the grip of the tentacles loosened a bit. In any case, enough for Sam to break free. Sam cut through all the tentacles with a rain of ice, like a steel curtain. They left fragments inside him, but that was the least of his concerns now. They would be pushed out as his wounds regenerated.

War's face was flushed, red as a tomato. The black blood from the tentacles had stained even her legs and skirt. Apparently, though he hadn't noticed until now, she felt what happened to the tentacles. Maybe she only had a minimal connection, but since he had cut so many tentacles at once, it had really hit her. He had hit that filthy bitch where it hurt.

"You're a slippery little bug, Samuel!" Hunger shouted, lunging at him. She had given up on trying to shoot him.

Sam was missing an arm. He was painfully aware of this, but it didn't incapacitate him. He lacked the arm to fight, his best weapon... He didn't have to control it with his hands or feet. His willpower was enough, which had always been his greatest weapon anyway. But the body adapts to everything, albeit slowly. He responded to War's attack as if he still had a left arm. Too late, he realized he wouldn't be able to deflect or block anything. But he didn't pay for the mistake, as a wall of earth rose in front of him just in time. War's arm was buried there. And as she pulled it out, Sam ran to the side.

He grabbed War by the head and slammed her against the wall. Through it, of course. Now that he had her in his power, he wasn't going to let her escape so easily. He grabbed one of her thighs, but not as she had wanted him to, rather to squeeze and twist, trying to tear it off. The flesh and skin, though with difficulty, yielded to his strength. He felt the bones crunch. He smelled the blood flow before seeing it. He also felt it running between his fingers. A familiar sensation, comforting and pleasurable. Sam smiled with gritted teeth, nothing more than a savage animal. His eyes like gold coins, reflecting nothing.

He changed his mind. He let go of her thigh and plunged a hand into her stomach, twisting her entrails. But he couldn't get very far before War intervened. The tentacles were blindingly fast and stretched easily over great distances. Her wounds had begun to heal, so he wasn't keen on being impaled again. He was getting used to the movement of her tentacles; watching the fight between Hunger and War above all had helped him do that.

Despite his superhuman abilities, Sam wasn't faster than the tentacles, but all he had to do to avoid being impaled by those things was to step back, react, looking at War, not at the tentacles. He could react a little before the attack itself, and that time gap gave him the advantage he needed. Yes, he was doing things right. Although he had been furiously trying to brutalize Hunger, he had also been paying attention to the sister, so he suffered no damage, managing to step back without problems towards his sisters, towards the protection of their magic.

Ambre half-rose, sitting in a pool of her own blood. "Oh, what a fucking bastard," she muttered. Hunger grabbed her broken leg and, gritting her teeth, put it back in place. That wouldn't fix the damage to the bones or the blood escaping from the wound, but apparently, she had enough brute strength to grit her teeth and simply endure it, for the time it took to regenerate. He guessed it wouldn't be long. War had already suffered a wound a hundred times worse, he had destroyed her entire heart, and there she was, alive and kicking.

That's why he needed and was willing to accept the help of Christina and Violette. Ha, frankly, he didn't know what to do. He had played his surprise card, put his ideas into practice, and it hadn't been enough.

War and Hunger approached them down the hallway. Both wounded and bleeding. You could call them wounded, no matter how serious the injuries looked, knowing there was no chance they would die from them. He supposed that in reality, they weren't. In any case, they looked like two terrifying ghosts.

Christina tried to push War against the wall with a torrent of water. But War undid it. She shattered it with her tentacles. Then, the tentacles flew towards her sister's throat.

Sam threw himself in front of Christina. But this time, he managed to form an ice wall in time to protect them without having to sacrifice his body. Although he had only gained a little time, a few seconds.

They were running out of hallway, out of time, and out of hope. The situation hadn't changed much, despite all the twists and turns they had taken. Somehow, they had ended up in the same place. At the starting line. It was maddening.

I Am the Chorus of Screams, Part 4: END

 

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Chapter 70: I Am the Chorus of Screams, Part 5

Losing an arm was truly awful. Beyond the obvious: the pain, the blood loss - so much blood, too much - and that feeling of lightness, as if his consciousness were a balloon ready to float away and never return.

That sensation that it was still there... All that phantom pain wasn't an exaggeration. Without looking with his own eyes, he would swear the arm was still there, attached. That's what bothered him most, really - not being able to trust his own senses.

I need control, he thought. That had never changed. Earlier he'd said they were running out of hallway, out of time, out of hope. Well, that wasn't true. Sam turned around and blasted a hole in the wall, big enough for a line of soldiers to march through. Several lines, even.

So the three of them made it through without trouble, jumping out. Dropping two floors and landing smoothly, breaking nothing, not even twisting an ankle. He managed it because he wasn't human. As for his sisters, they used their magic to cushion their fall.

They started running. At first they followed him, but Sam wrote them a warning: "Let's split up." More of an order, really, which they obeyed without question. There was no reason to fear the puppets now, if there ever had been. They could divide, confuse their pursuers, coordinate surprise attacks.

Well, logical or not, whether it was the best idea or not, they had tried it and it hadn't worked out. The best he could do was try to destroy War's heart again, the false heart she'd made with tentacles, before his own could regenerate.

"I'm tired of chasing you, Samuel. So tired of it," War said.

Yeah, and what about it? Sam thought. Am I supposed to let myself get caught?

He was hidden in one of the alleys, breathing deeply, trying to discern the location of those fucking apocalypse sisters by their footsteps. It wasn't as hard as it could have been. For one thing, it was dark - it was as if night sharpened his senses. Any living being would do the same, he believed. Secondly, the city was dead. If it had been full of noise, the sound of footsteps would have been hopelessly lost. But this way he only had one thing to focus on.

The footsteps, at least one set, were approaching his location. As if they'd spotted him, as if they were just playing with him. But that wasn't the case, he knew it wasn't. Sam would be very careful, but this would end with him pouncing on that bitch. And being triumphant - he wouldn't accept any other possibility.

Sam waited for the right moment to ambush War. The moment might or might not have come, but either way Hunger acted first. She grabbed him by the neck from behind, squeezing. He hadn't seen her coming, hadn't even heard her. He felt ashamed of how these two were toying with him tonight, almost effortlessly.

He knew they'd stopped playing. This was undoubtedly the most dangerous they could be without risking killing him and losing their lives to Lucifer's punishment. But still it felt like they were playing with him, like a cat with its prey.

I need control, he thought.

"You're not as clever as you think you are," Hunger whispered in his ear.

I need control, Sam thought, not for the last time, because control was the key to everything, the path to happiness. If you couldn't even control your miserable life, the world would do nothing but crush you.

It was all like that mansion. Everyone trying to uncover each other's secrets, destroying them to knock them out of the race. Though the objective wasn't clear, and the race never really ended. An invisible hand just moved the goal a little further away each time, just when you thought you could reach it.

Maybe he was thinking about such nonsense because Hunger's grip on his neck was too tight. Lack of oxygen. The bitch was acting like she meant to kill him, though she didn't have the guts to do it.

"Let me go," Sam ordered, and indeed she did let go - with a kick to his back, to be exact. Sam went through the wall, rolling in a cloud of dust. He nearly got deeply impaled by one of the wooden fragments. If not for a bit of luck, it would have pierced right above his heart. Well, not exactly right above, but still too close for comfort anyway.

Hunger grabbed him by the hair, yanked his head back and made to slam it against the ground. She probably saw herself in her mind repeating it until she knocked him unconscious, until she made sure he wouldn't be a problem anymore. But problems came to the bitch: two water tentacles grabbing her legs, lifting her like a complete puppet.

Of course, that forced her to release her grip. The tentacles overpowered her, throwing her against the ground as she had intended to do with him, only twice as high and with double the force. But that didn't have a definitive effect against that monster, just the blessing of getting her off him.

Cristina repeated the attack. On the third attempt, Hunger got rid of the water tentacles by shooting. She had no fear of shooting so close to her own head - it must have been something she was immune to. That, or she had aimed exceptionally well. Either way, he was willing to believe either.

A few seconds after Hunger stood up, the water tentacles returned and pierced through one leg, forcing her to contort her face, to scream and groan as she fell to her knees. Another tentacle tried to bury itself in her neck, but Hunger caught it mid-air, squeezing hard, and it dissolved. The tentacle dissolved, becoming just water that trickled down her palm, stained with blood - both red blood and the tar from her damn sister's tentacles.

"There's no way to know where those water magic attacks are coming from," Hunger said. "You're a slippery little bitch, Cristina. But nothing will change the inevitable outcome. Come on, let's stop going in circles. Soon we'll have Sam at our mercy, and you'll crawl out of the shadows again. While you're at it, you might as well speed up the process, skip to the end, to save us all our valuable time."

Of course, neither Cristina nor Violet were foolish enough to respond to her provocations.

"Have it your way..."

Sam jumped backward, barely dodging the tentacles that came for his feet. Instead they buried themselves deep in the ground, breaking stones, sending earth and sand flying. It had been close. He didn't want to end up impaled like nothing more than food on some superior being's plate. He couldn't bear that humiliation - he couldn't bear almost anything, truth be told.

I need control, Sam thought. His demon eyes burned and his body felt full of strength. He could do this. Even if it was just one of them - ideally he'd get rid of both, of course, but even if it was just one. He had to kill one of them in this town or his problems would become too much. He'd end up drowning.

Castiel, Hunger, War, Pestilence, Death and Satan - at the end of that fucking conga line. He had to kill at least one of his enemies or soon he'd feel like he had water up to his neck.

Well, water was what had saved him, and not just now.

Hunger tried to pierce his head with a fist. Sam could have easily dodged, and he did, but he hadn't needed to - the punch was stopped by an earth wall that suddenly rose up. It was a trick they'd used before, but if it wasn't broken, there was no need to fix it.

With Hunger's fist buried in the stone wall, Sam took his chance to pounce on that leg again.

"Now I've got you, damn bitch." He threw himself at the leg, tackling it, unbalancing the bitch. Of course, he meant the injured leg - he intended to finish the job. It was only fair to finish what he'd started and not leave messes behind him.

So that's exactly what he would do.

This time, Sam didn't just use his brute strength. He sank his teeth into the wound, clenching and twisting. He sank his teeth into the flesh of Hunger's thigh with an eagerness he'd never had for anything in life. His mouth filled with blood and torn skin, but he managed it.

Yes, he tore off the damn leg, returning the favor. It wasn't exactly the same - she had taken an arm from him, not a leg - but it was much worse to lose a leg, at least during a battle. So Sam had decided on that.

War jumped on him and kicked him in the stomach. Sam doubled over, rolling away from Hunger and the pool of her own blood - that is, Hunger's blood. Well, in his body they were mixed from head to toe, he didn't know where his own blood ended and his enemies' blood began.

War kicked him in the stomach again, even though she could have used the damn tentacles. Sam doubled over, struggling to breathe. Damn bitches, both of them. He had to maintain control of his breathing and his life. He had to do everything possible to maintain it.

Sam grabbed War's leg as she was about to kick him, squeezing it hard enough that she was forced to lower it. Her grimace didn't promise anything good either.

War stomped his head into the ground with her free foot. "Just pass out already. Make things easier for everyone. Even for you. Even for me."

Sam gritted his teeth, trying to overcome the pain. Pain was nothing more than a temporary sensation, something that superior willpower could simply turn off to focus on what really mattered.

An earth wall rising between them separated him from War, gave him the chance to slip away, though he couldn't run very far. He vanished into the darkness of Anjenhong once more. No doubt both had seen him slip into the alley, but he didn't want them to expect his direction of surprise attack.

Yes, the surprise attack had to be effective. Sam was good at many things, and one of them was playing with people's expectations. He didn't want it to be difficult to catch those two by surprise, considering that he was probably the first serious opposition they'd faced in many years. A lifetime, maybe since they were created, or born, or however that worked.

For all he knew, maybe they simply started existing - one day nothing, the next day something. It was an interesting philosophical debate, but he didn't give a fuck about their current circumstances. However it happened, this had to be done.

Sam, Violet and Cristina synchronized very well again. They formulated a plan without words, on the fly. It was extraordinary coordination. It really was true that they were siblings.

First, Violet formed a stone circle around the sisters. It wouldn't cost them anything at all to shatter the stone walls, as Hunger had done twice already, and he knew that clearly, just as he knew they wouldn't allow them the time to do such a thing.

Next, Violet filled the stone circle with water. She left them up to their necks. It was in the blink of an eye, and the most important part, last but not least, fell naturally on Sam's shoulders.

The ice weapons, of all shapes and sizes, fell to fill the sudden stone public bath.

The walls could never be more than a slight distraction, but it turned out to be enough. The ice souls pierced into Hunger everywhere. War avoided the worst of it since she only decided to attack at the end and didn't calculate the movement well.

Yes, he remembered the rule perfectly, the little trick he'd discovered: War's defense system only worked while she wasn't attacking. Or rather, it took a second to switch from attack mode to defense mode. Nothing more than a second, maybe less. It was a very easy weakness to exploit - the only difficult part had been discovering it in the first place.

War and Hunger came out of the sudden bath thrown on the ground, soaked from head to toe, but alive. They hadn't been able to finish the job, not even get close to destroying the tentacle heart that War now had. But it was fine.

Sam licked his lips. It felt good to see them thrown on the ground, humiliated. It felt good to see them at a disadvantage, for a change, even if it was just once since they'd started this fucking fight.

Sam breathed deeply. He didn't know how much longer it would last, but in his heart he suspected not very long. One way or another, there was very little left now.

I Am the Chorus of Screams, Part 5: END