Chapter 4: The 100th Kill

In the dimly lit hall, shadows danced and flickered as a circle of nine individuals gathered, their faces partially obscured by the dancing candlelight that provided meager illumination. The air was filled with an aura of mystery and ancient knowledge, as each person took their place upon a weathered wooden chair, the arrangement resembling a sacred symbol. Yet, a single seat remained vacant, waiting for its rightful occupant.

Each of the nine held in their hands a peculiar book, its binding as dark as the night itself. Strange words adorned the covers, symbols of an arcane language known only to those initiated into its secrets. Though the language differed for each of them, it was clear that the tomes were repositories of ancient wisdom.

The silence of the hall was broken when the footsteps of another person started to echo. A tenth figure emerged from the shadows, walking gracefully through the narrow spaces between the chairs. Cloaked in darkness like the others, he commanded an aura of power that set him apart from the rest. Unlike his companions, he chose to forego the mask that concealed their identities. His bald head glistened under the flickering candlelight, and his face was etched with countless wrinkles, evidence of a life immersed in the pursuit of knowledge.

"Greetings to the masters," he proclaimed, bowing respectfully before the assembled circle, acknowledging the wisdom that surrounded him. Even if his aura presented him all-powerful, he provided respect to the ones sitting around him.

Despite the hall's apparent smallness, a peculiar enchantment, woven by one of those present, extended its boundaries far beyond what the eye could perceive, it’s radius alone being 50 metres. Thus, the newcomer found himself standing at a considerable distance from the others.

"Markus, pray tell, why have you summoned us with such haste?" A feminine voice resonated through the dimly lit hall, catching Markus's attention as he turned to face its source.

Before him sat a mysterious lady, her face veiled by an enigmatic mask concealed beneath a dark, flowing veil. Her long hair cascaded down gracefully, falling delicately over her bosom, adding an air of elegance to her presence.

"Master Nightfall," Markus uttered, his voice laced with regret, "I beseech your mercy for my ineptitude, but I must confess, I have faltered in my mission."

"The accursed White Light club has once again thwarted our plans. This time, they have struck at the heart of our ambitions, in the very capital of Benignham."

As Markus spoke, Nightfall's countenance darkened with anger, her emotions visibly manifesting as she fiercely slammed her left hand onto the table.

"Those insufferable peasants!" she seethed, her eyes ablaze with fury.

"How dare they desecrate a place under my very jurisdiction!" Nightfall fumed, her rage unabated. The named location had been a bastion of her influence.

Before Nightfall could continue, however, her flow of words was rudely interrupted by another individual at the table. This person had been incessantly tapping his index finger upon the wooden surface, which had materialized within the same enchanted circle they all occupied.

He addressed Markus, his tone laced with impatience, "Surely, Markus, you did not summon us all solely to address her trivial grievances, did you now?"

Markus, in response, simply nodded. "Indeed," he admitted. "Master Grees, I have gathered you all here for an entirely different matter."

"Then speak of it first, you idiot," Grees retorted, wagging his index finger at Markus, his sharp, purple-painted nails on full display. His face was concealed behind a black mask, adding an air of mystery to his presence just like others.

"It concerns Master Jack," Markus revealed, and as soon as the words left his lips, an eerie silence descended upon the hall.

"Jack?" Grees repeated, his voice tinged with surprise, while the other masters in attendance directed their gazes towards the vacant seat that belonged to the missing member.

"It has indeed been quite some time since we last laid eyes upon him," Grees continued, musing aloud.

"And when we did see him last, his behavior was rather peculiar," Nightfall interjected, her memory of the encounter evident in her tone.

Seraphine, another master with a similar outfit to Nightfall's, posed a question, her voice laced with concern, "What ails him, Markus?"

"Master Seraphine," Markus addressed her, "Master Jack has been hunting our own members."

"What!?" Nightfall exclaimed, rising from her seat in astonishment. Markus's revelation was almost inconceivable.

"Yes, and it seems he has been engaging in this malevolence for the past two months," Markus continued, his words sending a wave of perplexity and confusion rippling through the hall, shrouding it in a heavy silence yet again.

"The one amongst us who once displayed unwavering devotion to the great Devil... And the one who ascended to rank 10 with unprecedented speed... has now turned on our brethren?"

"Curious indeed," echoed a different voice, cold and piercing, evoking an eerie shiver down Markus' spine. He turned around once more, only to find a man clad in complete black, towering over the others with an aura of undeniable power. This enigmatic figure stood face to face with Markus, no longer confined to a seat but confronting him directly.

Markus gasped, his heart racing, as the man's imposing presence sent a chill through his veins. Before he could react, the stranger swiftly thrust his left hand forward, seizing Markus by the throat. Panic set in as Markus struggled for breath, his airways constricted by the man's relentless grip.

"Master Drake..." Markus managed to choke out, his voice trembling with fear and disbelief.

The tall figure, known as Master Drake, displayed no mercy in his hold, as if he were driven by an unyielding purpose. "Believe me," he spoke with a chilling calmness, "I merely speak the truth..."

But it seemed all hope was lost, as Drake showed no signs of relenting, his grip growing even tighter. Markus felt his strength waning, the struggle becoming futile, and he began to resign himself to his grim fate. His vision blurred, and the world around him faded away as he was on the brink of unconsciousness.

In the midst of this dire situation, just when it seemed all was lost, a figure suddenly materialized beside Drake. He moved with astonishing speed, a blur of motion that left candles flickering in his wake.

With a swift and decisive move, he firmly grasped Drake's left hand, using an unexpected force that took even Drake by surprise.

"I think that's enough, Master Drake," the person’s voice rang out, its tone both indistinct and playful, like the wind whispering through the leaves of a forbidden forest.

As the mysterious man held Drake's hand, a powerful aura seemed to emanate from him, compelling Drake to unconsciously loosen his grip. A sensation of pain surged through his arm, and for a brief moment, he envisioned it breaking under the mysterious stranger's force.

"Master Twilight!?" Drake's voice echoed with uncertainty and surprise, his question hanging in the air as he tried to comprehend the unexpected intervention.

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With a lighthearted laugh, Master Twilight waved off Drake's concern as if it were a mere jest, leaving the room engulfed in a strange mix of confusion and relief. "Haha, chill. It was a joke," he replied playfully, his enigmatic nature only deepening the intrigue surrounding him.

"Thank you, Master Twilight," Markus chimed in, expressing his gratitude for the timely assistance.

Twilight then shifted his focus to Markus, extending a hand to help him back on his feet. Eagerly accepting the offer, Markus took hold of Twilight's right hand, feeling a sense of awe at making physical contact with one of the legendary masters. In his mind, he vowed never to wash that hand, for such an opportunity was a rarity beyond measure.

As the tension subsided, Twilight broached the matter at hand, his tone becoming more serious. "Tell me, Markus, be honest. How many of our men has Jack killed so far?"

Markus hesitated for a moment, glancing momentarily at Drake before meeting Twilight's gaze head-on. "Thirteen," he confessed, a hint of sorrow etched in his expression.

Twilight nodded thoughtfully, contemplating the information. "I see... Approximately two months ago," he mused, tapping his chin in deep thought. Turning towards the other masters – Nightfall, Seraphine, and the rest – he sought their opinions, recognizing the gravity of the situation they faced.

"What do you think? What must be done now?" Twilight inquired, seeking counsel from his fellow masters. The room remained steeped in silence, an air of trepidation and uncertainty clinging to the moment.

Then, breaking the quietude, Markus stepped forward, a glint of determination in his eyes. He believed that his opinion could be of value, and he took a deep breath before voicing his thoughts. "Murder?" he suggested, his voice firm but hesitant, as if grappling with the weight of his words.

The word hung in the air like a dark cloud, and all the masters turned their piercing gazes towards Markus, their expressions a mix of surprise and curiosity. Twilight, in particular, reacted with a slow, calculated motion, turning his back to Markus as he processed the audacity of the suggestion.

However, before Markus could utter another word, Twilight swiftly pivoted, his rage palpable. In a sudden, violent movement, he thrust his right hand forward, clamping it firmly over Markus' mouth, silencing him.

"Did I ask for your opinion, Markus?" Twilight's voice was laced with fury, and the force of his grip left Markus feeling like he was suffocating under the weight of the moment. Fear gripped him as he realized the gravity of his mistake.

Twilight's eyes blazed with an intense fire, and his words thundered through the room, asserting his dominance and authority. "Open that damn mouth of yours without permission one more time, and you will join your fellow men in the gates of hell," he roared, leaving no room for doubt about the consequences of any further interruptions.

The room was divided, with six masters expressing their support for Markus' idea, while the three remaining - Nightfall, Drake, and Twilight - appeared more cautious about taking immediate action.

Twilight turned his attention to Nightfall, seeking her stance on the matter. "What about you, Master Nightfall?" he inquired, his hand slowly rising in support of the murder idea.

Nightfall's response was measured, her voice tinged with a sense of reluctance. "I think it's best if we do further investigations," she replied, hinting at the need for caution and gathering more information before reaching a decision.

Drake, too, chose a path of prudence, declaring his neutral stance until solid evidence could be presented. "I think the same," he said, maintaining a diplomatic approach. "I will stay neutral until some solid proofs are brought forth."

"Who knows, someone might be impersonating Master Jack," Drake mused, breaking the uneasy silence that enveloped the room. However, the majority had already made up their minds, and the two opposing voices seemed to hold no sway.

"I will give orders to my followers to target Jack," Seraphine declared, her voice chillingly resolute.

"I will do the same," Grees added, his determination matching that of Seraphine's.

One after another, the masters pledged their allegiance to the grim cause, and as they did, the room was engulfed in black smoke, obscuring their presence as they departed to execute their orders.

Only Nightfall, Drake, and Twilight remained in the chamber, lingering amidst the dissipating shadows.

"Won't you be leaving?" Twilight inquired of Drake.

"Shortly after you do," Drake replied with a nod.

"Aye, leave first. Little Markus might end up dead otherwise," Twilight remarked, urging Drake to prioritize his safety.

Without a word of protest, Drake exchanged a glance with Nightfall before they vanished, leaving Twilight alone with Markus.

Markus, rubbing both his palms and with a smile etched on his face, said, “Master, about earlier…”

He was going to apologize, but Twilight interrupted.

Slice!

Markus’ eyes opened wide, his head slowly leaving his cleanly sliced neck as fountain of blood splashed all the way.

Twilight stared at the twig that he held between his fingers, the weapon he used to kill Markus for previous mistake of interrupting and voicing his thoughts.

“Peasant…”, he stared at the corpse for a second or two, his eyes cold.

“Now, you take over his task.”, Twilight murmured, hearing which, another figure revealed himself in the shadows.

“Yes, master Twilight.”, a young man, in his twenties, knelt in front of Twilight, his gazes fixated at the lifeless Markus’ body where a puddle of blood had started to form.

The room grew dimmer as he extinguished the candles, casting the chamber in shadows.

"Clean this up," Twilight commanded, his voice low and commanding as he removed the mask concealing his face. With purposeful movements, he retrieved a cigar from his pocket, lighting it with a flicker of fire from his index finger, having removed his black gloves.

Placing the lit cigar between his lips, Twilight took a deep draw, filling the air with a cloud of smoke. The dark tendrils mingled with the shadows, shrouding his figure in mystery. As he exhaled, the black smoke swirled around him, concealing his presence, until he, too, vanished from sight.

The chamber was left in silence, save for the faint glow of the snuffed candles. The young boy, with an air of loyalty and dedication, diligently set to work, erasing any signs of the somber event that had transpired. He moved with a sense of purpose, ensuring that no traces remained, as if he were a master of this dark art of concealment.

In the world of clandestine shadows and secrets, the tale of Master Twilight and his young apprentice continued to unfold, hidden from the prying eyes of the outside world. As they navigated this perilous path, they embraced the enigma of their existence, their destinies intertwined with the murky boundary between light and darkness.

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.

.

As the sound of raindrops intensified, the once-clear blue sky transformed into a canvas of thick, gray clouds, signifying the arrival of the rainy season. Just a few days ago, a powerful storm had passed through, leaving its mark on the landscape.

Amidst the torrential downpour, a louder splatter echoed through the alleyway behind two tightly-knit houses. There, on the wet ground, lay Alex, his clothes soaked, and his body shivering from both the cold rain and the weight of his actions.

"Please stop..." Alex pleaded, his voice barely audible amidst the cacophony of raindrops pelting the ground.

His trembling hands and quivering lips betrayed the turmoil within. He had escaped a scene of unimaginable darkness, yet he found no solace in the refuge of the alleyway. His mind was haunted by the sinister voice that seemed to reverberate from within.

[Devil: You have a task at hand, my beloved child...]

"No!" Alex vehemently denied, swaying his head from side to side as if trying to escape the grasp of his own thoughts. The rain muffled his desperate cries, making them mere whispers in the tempest.

[Devil: Killing one more will lead you to your 100th kill.]

[Devil: Don't hesitate!]

The sinister voice of the Devil echoed in Alex's mind, pulling him back towards the abyss of darkness he had tried to escape. The weight of his actions and the haunting prospect of more bloodshed weighed heavily on his soul.

Amidst the pouring rain, Alex clung to his fading sanity, trying to keep a semblance of control over his turbulent emotions. In his anguish, he clenched his fist and struck the ground, seeking the physical pain to anchor himself in the present.

The puddle before him mirrored his anguished face, reflecting his glowing red eyes. His internal struggle continued, his mind a battleground between his humanity and the darkness that threatened to consume him.

In the midst of this turmoil, a voice interrupted his torment.

"My, what are you doing here, good sir?" The words carried concern and curiosity, spoken by a gentleman wearing a jacket and a hat. He had come to offer help to the distraught figure in the alleyway.

‘What? Why is someone here!?’

Alex, his voice weak and filled with desperation, urged the man not to come closer. "N-no... don't come closer..."

Unaware of the danger, the man persisted, trying to understand Alex's condition. But as he drew nearer, he unwittingly sealed his fate. Alex's eyes turned a fiery crimson, and the reflection of his demonic appearance in the puddle revealed the truth of his transformation.

In an instant, Alex's demeanor changed, and a red glow enveloped his right hand. The man, startled by the sudden transformation, paused in his approach. "Sir...?"

Before the man could react, Alex vanished from the scene with uncanny speed, reappearing right behind him. In a blink of an eye, the red glow transformed into a colossal scythe, revealing the true extent of Alex's ominous power.

Time seemed to slow as the man turned to face this nightmarish manifestation. His eyes widened in shock and fear, realizing his mistake too late. "Sir...!" he called out once more, but it was futile.

In a single, fluid motion, the scythe swung, and the crimson glow carved a path of devastation through the rain-drenched air.

The alleyway fell silent again, save for the relentless rain. The crimson glow around Alex's scythe slowly subsided, the scythe itself vanishing away.

The rain continued to pour, as if the heavens wept alongside Alex. His eyes, no longer glowing, reflected a profound sense of despair and remorse. Falling to his knees, he clutched his head in anguish, the weight of his actions heavy on his conscience.

"Another kill..." he whispered to himself, his voice choked with pain. The reality of the life he now led, entangled in darkness and violence, gnawed at his soul. Each life taken was a burden that crushed him, leaving him to question the choices fate had thrust upon him.

"Why?"

"Why did I have to reincarnate into the body of a Devil Worshipper!?"

It all started, exactly, 2 months ago, when Alex was reincarnated into the body of the Devil Worshipper!

Note:

[8] Alexander, the owner of the body, became a Devil Worshipper 2 years ago. But Alex, reincarnated into this body, 2 months ago. The backstory - check the next chapter.