8 dead souls, in the matter of a single minute.

Twirling her hair around her finger, humming and skipping with every step towards her goal of gorging the flesh and eating their hearts out.

This time, she went slower-paced as ordered. Each limb she detached and tore off were each seen like a miniature statue of the whole human anatomy. To her, it was all a delicacy to enjoy. One which she knew was delectable as it had the same tastes as before.

Though, there were some exceptions in the manner of what kind of taste was used and how it was done.

With ease she cracked a spine, removing all 33 vertebrae with a pop. Her least favorite aspect of the body to eat was the ribs and sternum, the sharpness of the ribs made it difficult for her mouth to handle. At the same time, the toughness of the sternum made it a hassle to take a bite and remove a chunk of it. In general, bones to her were more of a thing to hold on to rather than devour and digest the marrow as part of her 'usual diet'.

Still, as long as it's in her body, her mouth has absorbed and ingested it, as nothing's stopping her from enjoying the taste and flavors of its tissues. She sat down on the snowy street. For all she cared, the citizens could come and kill her right now, but her meal is her main priority, so she would deal with any threats if the time arises.

Once the vertebrae and spine are out of the way, removing the sternum is much simpler. Once again, with the ease, her hand grasped onto it with two fingers and ripped out a slab of flesh from the upper portion, with an audible crunching noise that felt almost... delightful. After she swallowed a hunk, her body shuddered, her knees buckled as a surge of excitement coursed through her veins, it seemed like a whole new sensation that she felt like tasting more of.

Before she could continue her feast however, 'Listen, you ought to go eat the rest of these bastards that are watching. I'd rather not have anyone watching this sort of thing happen. Like a persons audience observing an intimate, embarrassing moment of the girl he likes masturbating. But, what you have and are doing is basically the same as an incestuous sex act, not that it bothers me, I just don't want to have your thoughts corrupted with such imagery, though you seem fine at the moment. Go do some hunting, that'll excite you more.' Zabulus said.

As if a feral, wild beast, she leaped on the closest man nearby who still hid away in the dark. Pouncing on his chest, her jaw ripped open his flesh from throat to abdomen. Then Jejunum and ileum split from their host's anterior to his abdomen and she wretched with glee.

Her hands forced themselves into the remains, tearing out his stomach, gutting the unfortunate bastard's torso with a disgusting, squelching sound that rang out loud and clear in his dying ears.

Blood covered her pale face like warpaint, her nose taking in the intoxicating stench of a human carcass. Again, and again and again she ravaged him, slashing and slicing away, his liver and gall bladder becoming mush with her every move.

Without a moment to waste, Alice leaned in towards the cadaver and started the dissection process, holding the large intestine in her right hand, and cutting it into small pieces, filling her mouth with the now liquified intestine and gobbling it down, which was followed by a satisfied burp and a large exhale.

Munch.

Slurp.

Chomp, Crunch.

Huuuulch.

Gnarl, Bite, Slither.

She looked like a disgusting little beast devouring her meal, looking as vile and malicious as ever, especially with a background of a dark street. No words needed to be spoken, she understood the necessity of slowing down the pace, and being more meticulous as well, but was it the time? Not at all.

A burning memory. Her father's love. They filled her body and soul. In spite, in hate, yet in love. Her emotions changed.

Tear and cut,

Their organs ripped,

Vital fluid washes over her,

Their essence was a blessing.

Half the crowd, now gone. 27 bodies on the floor, with a puddle of red coating the floor. This made it easy for Alice to navigate the area, while not having to step in the fresh crimson blood and puddles.

A leg was ripped off, her claws clawed into the quadricep muscles' skin, shredding away its membrane as she slowly pulled its flesh off with her teeth, tearing them up and into pieces and ripping them away with her hands. It seemed to taste the same regardless. Even if her claws or hands were bloody, that didn't hinder or halt her appetite. Rather, the taste and scent only made her hunger grow, the bottomless pit of an endless glutton growing greater and deeper in desire, wanting to swallow everything whole in order to feed it and fill the hole of desire.

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It didn't taste like steak or even pork, it had a less acidic and foul odor. If it had a comparable taste, she'd compare it to a full stomach after gorging upon 12 rotting corpses that were stuffed with maggots, having eaten her body weight in 84 kilograms worth of their flesh and organs and leaving their guts to spill upon the ground with a flood. The most satisfying meal she's ever eaten, the ecstasy. It brought her euphoria as nothing else does, the sensation of bliss upon each morsel.

.....

Guillerme caught wind of her sudden rampage, but still, he did nothing to halt its progress, rather, he sat and watched as the one he might have, or might have not loved, went insane with bloodlust, devouring the bodies with great speed and gore. If Zabulus's words were to be believed, Alice could barely control her insanity-driven hunger. And if Zabulus were to believe the words of her madness-driven voice that came from him and his shared headspace, her lack of sanity has finally taken a toll and deteriorated any sane notion. Now, he cannot help or save her.

"If you cannot rescue her, then I'm left with only one option..." he spoke to no one in particular. It was obvious and no one knew what the correct answer was, or even how to stop it, he added, "You know I'm trying my best, I have never attempted or thought of trying to salvage my soul," He said, this time to Aeneus. He replied without a moment of doubt.

"Bullshit, if anything, I'd wager that you have plenty of time to save your dear 'lover', yet you decide that I need more practice and to work hard or whatever other motivational phrase is that in common use these days. What was it? That 'One Day, at a Time' quote?"

Guillerme rolled his eyes as Aeneus kept talking, ignoring Guillerme's groan of frustration on why he said such a thing, "Right now, your focus is obviously elsewhere. But what we need to do, is fucking stop this shit from happening before Alice becomes the same as that Laz guy!" He roared, as if saying those last words held some meaning or perhaps some nostalgia and significance he had forgotten.

In response, a dull, wooden smile appeared on Aeneus' Skull, which made him smile in a twisted, creepy way back at him, a perfect example of someone who looked like he had never even slept one day in their entire existence. The darkness under his eye sockets seemed to enlarge and hollow even further out, creating a 'light' shade of darkness.

"Listen closely, there is no reason to panic. In the end, you can always undo her damage and 'restore' the situation back to normal." His deep, eerie and deadpan expression not wavering for a second.

"What the fuck...?" Guillerme stared at Aeneus, who was now completely dried up. His hair turning grey, his grey hair turning white, and the skin getting wrinkled again and sagging as if the bones and muscles underneath became too weak and useless for him. His right eye, seemingly drooping half-shut like someone suffering from a stroke. His tone getting darker by the second, sounding a tad bit confused as his voice hitched from his laughter and screams at the sight of a grown woman being eaten by another grown woman and losing her life in such a way.

"I just remembered one of those little stories... you know..." Aeneus said, "You once told me about... the story of the mother and the child? How she sacrificed herself to save her daughter, yet in reality... she died in vain because the daughter didn't save herself... it is a peculiar tale..." his eyes became a hollow nothingness... only darkness. He looked away, laughing at how odd that story was, but how true it was to the lives of the other victims, "Isn't it interesting how the hero, who's supposed to protect us, doesn't have the capability to even recognize an enemy that is as blatantly obvious as this monster... What the fuck kind of world did he live in... yeah?"

That was when Guillerme realized.

And Aeneus continued speaking, with a strained voice "...And! The hero..." He groaned in agony from the mere act of talking. His whole body was tensing up with fear and tension from speaking. "...even if he saw evil and wanted to defeat it... he didn't know how... just like you...!" He shouted.

Aeneus stopped in his tracks at the very last word, with his feet moving for the very first time since he appeared, not really making a conscious decision to move as such but out of his own accord, he couldn't think for himself and moved automatically, just like the ones of the cult. Just like... Laz.

"A... Zabulus? What have you done?!"

"Hehehe... this is for my own good, isn't it brother...? Can't say I'll keep my word, can I?" Zabulus looked in front of himself, smirking. His voice seemed different somehow... "You see... this little guys soul had already begun wavering the moment I usurped him... superseding and subsuming his soul to mine was fairly easy actually... I just had to claim ownership and control over the bits of my own soul within you and rip myself free of your flesh."

"This- No, you can't, it doesn't make any sense! Just why would you-?!"

"Because I felt like it." A grin grew wider, and wider across his face as he cut his flesh, blood spraying everywhere like a fountain.

The carnage continued. His skull cracked into pieces.

Aeneus' metaphysical body had thus disintegrated completely and ceased to exist. He did not stop Zabulus or stop this occurrence in any way whatsoever. Zabulus was entirely free to act now, since Guillerme knew, deep down, that if he were to attempt to fight him directly, then he'd cease to exist the same way.

.....

192 dead, 0 survivors, or... at least, that's the initial headcount.

Those of his ilk are particularly susceptible to the cold. Not that he cares, or he thinks of them, anymore, rather, he just happens to know, and guesses how this might affect his victims, the creatures who could survive below the earths surface where their presence is no longer detectable or traceable by other races. Those who eat and cannibalize others of their kind and family and tribe. The ones who hide away behind masks and lie to keep them safe and secure. Those who've died out but exist only in legend or history... those...

Too many to name. But none besides one who is truly a part of him, can stand so strong, or brave his trials, nor survive his wrath. Only Alice could be her true self. The only being in the entire world, perhaps, capable of such a feat.