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King Of Thy Cross
Not a Dragon, Werewolf, Angel or Leviathan

Not a Dragon, Werewolf, Angel or Leviathan

A young boy could be seen in a dark room, his frail frame hugging tightly onto his bones, pale purple skin that became paler and paler with each passing moment, and dark circles under his eyes as his body was tied up with cold chains and metal bands that fastened onto his hands and legs.

His head faced downward with hollow eyes that lost all meaning to life, a veil of dark hair disheveled and dreary as they covered his face.

He wore a bloody white robe, tattered, torn, and dirty. Suddenly, a door was slammed open as echoes reverberated in the room.

A man could be seen entering the room, shrouded in darkness as only a ray of light glimmered through his white mask.

He walked to the center of the room, where the boy was, and tugged on a pull chain that hung from the roof. The lights were turned on.

A large room could be seen under light, with black polished tiles covering the floor over 100 meters and walls over 30 meters, red iron pillars that curved from the ground up forming a cylindrical dome-shaped roof.

The man, white-skinned with black flowing hair that glistened from gel use, was tall, towering at 6 '7", with a fit-built body that was muscular yet slender. He wore narrow white pants, well-polished black dress shoes, and black long-sleeved formal wear that accentuated his physique.

A surgery table with several torture devices smeared in black blood and buckets containing arms, legs, jaws, bones, and internal organs lying all around stunk like dead bodies, but neither party couldn't be affected by it.

He moved closer to the boy, raising his chin, and stared closely into his hollow, dark eyes, a sadistic smile formed under his mask as glee welled in his heart.

Then another man appeared in the room, blonde hair; he wore contrasting clothes to the first man, with black pants, white dress shoes, white sleeve formal wear, and a black mask that all accentuated his less similar slender muscular build; he was Camil, and the first man was Armon.

"He hasn't healed yet," Camil asked in a neutral, cold voice.

"No, he has," Armon replied with joy seemingly radiating from his face as he turned to face him.

"What the fuck i—" Camil asked in a disdainful tone before losing his head. His head rolled away from his lifeless body as Armon saw the head of his partner being severed off in front of him.

"Huh?" He exclaimed with a face of bewilderment that his partner had just died in front of him from seemingly nothing; there was nobody else in the room, there were no guards or personnel outside, snipers couldn't penetrate where they were, and senses would warn him if anything were near.

But then, his senses kicked in, telling him to jump, and so he did; looking back, he saw a humanoid figure crouched in a cat's position where he stood before.

Its figure was cloaked in shrouds of miasma-like darkness that exuded from its body, eyes blank as white, formless with a form, horns protruding from its head with sharp claws from its hands. The figure sent chills down his spine as he wondered where the being appeared from.

Looking from above, his eyes glanced at the metal chair. The body of his toy was gone, the chains and metals holding and securing him were broken with parts littering the floor, and all the needles that were pierced into him lay on the floor with tips disintegrating into ash.

And now he realized what that being was; it was his toy, which had finally broken, giving him something new to play with.

He was happy and joyous; he was basking in his sadistic fantasy when suddenly it was launched at him. The being was none other than the transformed Zael.

His claws ripped the mask into pieces as Armon slightly managed to evade and dodge it.

He wasn't panicking or scared, but rather excited, his heart pounding faster and faster in amazement as he planned to study and break his toy again.

With the full moon on high, he also began transforming, his body being covered by night-black fur, his wear being ripped open by the bulging growing muscles, his mouth disfiguring and forming a wolf jaw, his hands being ripped from the center by the growing claws, and in less than a minute, he had transformed into a black werewolf.

"It's time to play with my little toy," he said as he strengthened and applied more power to his hind legs for a jump.

"You better not break," he said as his figure disappeared and appeared beside Zael.

And with a slap of his paw, he sent Zael flying to the wall, hitting the walls with full force, but the one who felt the pain more was Armon.

His hands shriveled and turned to dust right before his very eyes, and his face contorted between joy and dread as a realization dawned on him.

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He was joyous as his toy had acquired new features, but a sense of wariness crept in as he realized the potential danger it posed to him. However, he couldn't be bothered by the threat; his sadistic nature took control, and a grin spread across his face, revealing all his canines.

"Yes, yes, that's what I've been waiting for," he exclaimed in exhilaration.

He knew Zael was special, but now he was his prized possession.

"You better not break," he said in a joyous tone as his tail wagged in the air.

Zael's figure began to transform with a roar, his once-human form morphing into something altogether different. Black obsidian scales covered his body, and a tail grew from his lower back. Feathered wings sprouted from his shoulders, spreading wide and casting ominous shadows across the room.

He was transforming into a hideous entity, unlike any creature Armon had seen before. Not a vampire, demon, or any known beast or angel. Zael was becoming something entirely new, something that brought him more ecstasy and thrill.

Atop a high-rise building, several figures clad in white and gold long coats could be seen; they each held a golden crucifix that exuded a warm aura as they glanced down towards a building that was reflected against the full moon.

"Sir, it's here," a feminine voice spoke to a man using the earphones. 

"Alright," he replied; he was Samuel a 30-year-old man, with a great build and features, he was a paladin commander, a church knight of the mid-order, and the woman who was talking to him, was his subordinate Elise, a paladin..

The group consisting of him and several others were tasked with finding the source of the radiating supernatural energy and eliminating it; with tracking, the source led to this old torn-down building in the northern wards.

"Let's go," he ordered to the rest of the group pointing towards the building.

Back in the room,

"Boss, they are here," a man came in panting with heavy breath as if he had run a marathon. 

Armon ears perked up as he knew what that meant, he could lose his new toy any moment to those vermin that kept plaguing him.

"I don't have time to play today, because of those damned paladins," he said in an angered tone as he hastily moved to contain Zael before he could fully transform.

With full force, he plunged with all his strength; Zael's transformation was still ongoing, his body grew larger and larger, and cries could be heard in the room as faces began appearing on Zael's disfigured form.

Faces with varying expressions, all looking similar with horrified features, skin that drew like melted rubber, faces as black as night, with white blank eyes as their mouths gaped releasing dark miasma that seemed to turn everything around it to ash.

Like metals to a magnet, all his body parts that were severed from his body during the days of torture all flew to his form, mixing and forming a horrendous being.

Armon had a grim expression on his face but the joy was welling in him, his toy became more intriguing with each passing moment, but it would be cut short by Samuel.

*Sword of light - second path - severing light*

With a golden sword that glimmered like the crucifix on his neck, Samuel sliced the building diagonally all while his subordinates evacuated the area.

Armon's face and true expression completely turned grim both in and out, he hadn't expected a commander to come and he knew he was in deep shit if he was caught.

The church exterminated all dark supernatural beings like him, from mammon to demons, vampires, and several others; and he couldn't even fight against Samuel if he wanted.

He was confused about whether to escape and leave his toy or try to contain it before Samuel could get down the building. Even though it was a full moon, he didn't have any advantage and would be exorcised by the paladin if caught.

With gritted teeth and a regret-filled face, he fled through the door where the man stood.

Before the other man could follow him, a cold elongated hand held onto his legs, its dark miasma covering him as dread filled him.

The man screamed calling to his absent boss, tears welling up in his eyes as he couldn't think of a way to escape.

The dark hand dragged him into the room, and he couldn't resist; with a wide-opened mouth that looked like an abyss, he was consumed by the darkness, disappearing as if he was swallowed by the void itself.

Meanwhile, Armon dashed through the corridors, his heart pounding with fear and desperation. He knew he couldn't afford to be caught by the paladins, and his only chance was to flee and regroup later.

As he ran, he could hear the sounds of battle echoing behind him, the clash of steel against steel, and the shouts and screams `of his subordinates. But he didn't dare look back. His only focus was on escaping the imminent threat that loomed behind him.

Finally reaching the exit, Armon burst out into the cool night air, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He glanced back at the building, seeing the faint glow of the golden sword as it cleaved through the darkness.

With a heavy heart, Armon disappeared into the shadows, knowing that he had narrowly escaped the clutches of the paladins, but also understanding that this was only the beginning of a much larger conflict.

Zael still ongoing a transformation, screamed and roared as the building began crumbling, the light of the full moon invigorated him, and the blood of Camil and the other man empowered him, with each passing moment, Zael's transformation grew more intense, his body morphing into a monstrous entity that defied all laws of nature.

As the building collapsed around him, he unleashed a deafening roar that echoed through the night, shaking the very foundations of the earth. His mind had gone full berserk, madness fully taking over.

But deep down, amidst the chaos and destruction, a glimmer of humanity still lingered within Zael. Buried beneath layers of darkness and pain, there remained a flicker of the boy he once was—a boy who had been subjected to unspeakable horrors, yet still clung to the hope of redemption.

They had tortured him, day after night, night after day, clipping, cutting, ripping, shredding, injecting, drawing, and shredding every part of him, from his blood to his skin to his body parts and internal organs.

His body got tortured then healed, then tortured again and healed, his mind began cracking, fracturing with the day, and soon he descended into madness. Turning into the monster he had become.

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