"Ah, fuck... Got to be honest, should have expected that. What, did you miss me, pretty boy? I don't really swing that way."

"Funny. I came to finish you off."

"Hahah, maybe after the second dat-"

Before Luke could finish his sentence, a heel kick knocked the breath out of him, slamming his spine against the wall. That old elevation would definitely need some serious repairs. His bones probably would too. Struggling to maintain eye contact and trying not to crap himself from the pressure in his abdomen, he pulled himself up from the ground. A dribble of spit mixed with blood dripped down the corner of his mouth. Facing the creature, he positioned himself with his back against the wall and his left arm behind him, trying to appear as nonchalant as a nearly crippled man searching for his knife bound to his belt could be.

*Fake it till you make it is the rule* he thought. "Make him talk, wait for something to change in your favor." he whispered to himself.

"So?" Luke asked.

"...what do you mean, 'so'? Why are you not panicking?" the creature replied.

"My dude, first of all, I'm high as shit," Luke responded. "Second of all, a huge fucking monster just disheveled my intestines. And unless you really fell for me, which I would be quite flattered with, then this is my last sunrise. I can't run, I can't hide. So panicking will just give you more joy, and I am not doing that for free. So what's the deal? Maybe a little introduction before you splatter me across the walls?"

"You are a weird one, even compared to the rest of the Filth. Cleansing you will benefit all."

"I am concussed, courtesy of you, might I add. But yeah, maybe the world will be better without me. Why the Filth though? I'm quite happy with my choice of body wash."

"Gwah! That's the first reason why you remain cattle and we remain the shepherds. Your lack of self-awareness, of your place in the world. This one and others."

"There are other worlds?" Luke asked, intrigued.

"OF COURSE THERE ARE OTHER WORLDS, REALITIES, PLANETS FILLED WITH TREASURES UNDREAMED OF BY THE LIKES OF YOU! EVEN THIS PLACE WHERE YOU ARE RIGHT NOW IS JUST A FRACTION OF REALITY, A BARN WHERE THE CATTLE IS BRED FOR SLAUGHTER!"

"Hmmm, so there are other realities around us?" Luke questioned.

"... I really wish you wouldn't react so casually to this. I don't think you understand the consequences of what I speak," the creature responded, exasperated.

"I still am not sure if I'm not just hallucinating after OD'ing in the street or getting hit by a car. But I am listening. Kind of interesting, to be honest," Luke mused.

"UGH, FINE!"

The monstrum did something, and Luke felt that familiar sensation once again. He could now recognize the tone or wavelength of it, but he also sensed a different intent behind it. It seemed to take shape around him, rustling the air and saturating the space they occupied.

A searing pain sliced across his damaged eye, as if a chain of lightning traveled through the stalk of his eyeball, detonating in a violent maelstrom of sparks inside his brain. In that fleeting moment somewhere between instant and eternity, Luke witnessed two parts of a spectrum. Infinite darkness consuming an ever-expanding primordial chaos, and a myriad of colors unknown to him, accompanied by sensations his brain and body were never meant to experience.

His consciousness abruptly slammed back into his body. The darkness and light intensified, coexisting and wreaking havoc within him, saturating him like never before.

Sadly, the involuntary shaking of his body in spasmatic convulsions, and the puking that followed stopped him from enjoying those unreal sights. That and the bleeding from all his offices.

He realized that despite the intensity of what he had just witnessed, he hadn't moved an inch. He was still on the same road, under the same building, in the same pain as before, now covered in vomit, blood, and spittle.

The surroundings remained the same, but as Luke's eyes adjusted, it was as if his mind peeled back a rubber tarp from the reality he had witnessed. With a squelch the screeching echoes in his mind subsided, and he saw the new state of things. The skies were filled with plumes of discolored vibrant smoke, strange plants sprouted where they shouldn't, and in the distant sky, a whale of rotted ash swam across clouds of concentrated pollution. It used its immense maw to consume toxic substances, while black oil oozed from its pustule-covered eye sockets, replaced by chitinous tentacles flailing about, searching for something to latch onto. Rising from the back was a funeral spire, emitting bluish flames that pulsed like a dying sun beneath the cover of the tainted, lightless sky.

After enduring that brief nightmare, Luke refocused his attention on the one standing three meters away. It stared menacingly, its jaw open in a smile that would haunt most people for the rest of their days. The creature had underdeveloped horns the color of autumn leaves, forming a bony crown that elongated its head. Its deep blue eyes lacked eyelids and darted around sporadically. A massive pit bull-like jaw adorned the lower part of its head, filled with unnaturally perfect, human-like teeth enlarged to monstrous proportions. A wide hunchback, covered in sickly white, almost translucent skin, led to arms twice as long as they should be, ending in claws similar in material to its crown. Its stone sized knuckles scraped against the floor with each sway of the monster.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Struggling to regain some semblance of self-control and assess the situation, Luke spat out whatever bile remained in his mouth. He mustered what strength he had left to spray his own legs, already stained with a mixture of alcohol, spit, and stomach acid.

"Yeah, that 'Filth' part seems accurate right about now," he muttered, filled with disgust.

The creature silently judged him, piercing him with its glare. With each passing second, anger and repulsion intensified within the monster.

"And there you are, the worst of the worst. Not only are you a mindless cattle, but you are tainted with the anathema to our rule. Void courses through you, and it must have been a strong one since you not only survived but managed to consume the energy I left within you. Pity, you could have died earlier," the creature snorted.

"Sorry for causing you trouble, I guess? What does it mean that I was tainted?" Luke questioned, his voice laced with uncertainty.

With a snort, the monster took two steps closer.

"Fine, I'll humor you before your end. While we, the rulers, are naturally born with our gifts and raised and taught in our ways and usage of our powers, it's normal for us to spawn some bastards of half-blood. We use you as playthings. We can all wipe minds, change memories, and take what we want. That's why a small percentage of you filthy scum can be more attuned to the world—empaths, precognition, enhanced physique. You are all just effects of casual mating with creatures beyond your understanding. And as a reward, you may have a sliver of a taste of our power."

"I may not like my father, but I'm rather sure my mother didn't have a quickie with a magical postman. And trust me, I would prefer that option."

"No, you are the amalgamation of different half-breeds, guided by malicious fate. Different bloodlines of the Void Tainted mingled throughout generations to birth you. Tell me, isn't your life marked by bad luck? Loneliness, destruction, and disappointment? Your loved ones leaving, your family dying? I'm sure you are quite the fuck-up yourself, as you have shown through your lack of self-preservation instinct by challenging me. But I can tell you, in your final moments, that you carry with you the thick stench of a lack of future. Hated by Karma, you are the disruptor of natural and magical order. Even basic laws such as Murphy's law or statistical law are challenged by you unknowingly. You twist what surrounds you—people, places. You corrupt what you touch. You spread your filth in splashes with every movement you make, every breath you take. You even disrupt magical formations. That's the only reason you survived—my spell matrix collapsed when you overwhelmed it with Void. And you dared challenge me, one of Royal Blood!"

"Oh yeah, that's right, what even are you?"

"Hah! I pity the fool you are! To not even recognize the greatness in front of you! I come from the eons-old Clan of Thule! We are the children who survived the fall of Atlantis! We are the peak of humanity! We were supposed to run the world! Tall, blond, blue eyes! The signs of royalty that should have gained a hold on this pathetic planet!"

"Wait... Thule, as in the German occult society? Is your family followers of Nazis?"

"NO! THEY WERE FOLLOWERS OF US! BASKING IN OUR GLORY, BLESSED BY US, WE WERE THEIR UBERMENSCH! WE ARE OF THE ARYAN BLOODLINE!"

"...HAHAHA! What a load of horse shit! Mister royal bloodline got his face stuffed by some random Normal without any powers. Quite the royalty, to be bested by the worst among commoners!"

"YOU DARE?! TIME TO DIE, FILTH!"

All that talking gave Luke enough time to regain some control over his body. He was prepared for what was to come. He knew he only had one chance.

The monster rushed forward, easily wrapping its clawed left hand around his ribcage with room to spare. The knife-like bone spikes pierced his back, thankfully missing his spine. Throwing his head backward and with spasms running through his legs, he could only pray for the hubris of his opponent.

And for once, the prayers weren't answered with laughter.

The creature effortlessly moved him closer to its face, his body hanging in the air lifelessly. With malice seeping through its voice, it seethed.

"Any last words?"

"Think fast!"

With the last of his breath, Luke gathered whatever body fluids were left in his mouth. With a snap and a quick jolt, he faced his opponent, spraying him in the face with all his might. The creature panicked, wanting to start thrashing, but in that moment of opportunity, Luke grabbed the callous horns with his right hand, slicing through them with just a touch. Using the knife he had hidden and prepared, he focused all his concentration on trying to infuse the blade with the oily Void. He guided it through his arm while listening to the monologue, twisting the knife in his hand and aiming for the eye. He felt something hit the blade, but his body was already being set in motion. In the last moment, he twisted the blade, feeling something crack, hearing the roar of a wounded animal, and finally feeling his chest compress and crumple under a massive force.

He was flung hard, flying over 10 meters at least, and landed with the grace of a brick, tumbling and twisting on the stony road.

He tried to crawl away, barely self-aware as the reality around him dimmed. He moved blindly, driven by the instinct to survive.

"Just move, move, move! Don't stop, move!"

He could hear the mad howling behind him and the thumping steps that followed him. He was lifted into the air, the same claws that pierced his back now shredding his skin and clothes on his chest. He had the grim satisfaction of witnessing his handiwork. The knife had missed the eye but managed to hit the base of one of the horns forming the crown. That little twist at the end must have cracked it off, finishing with a slash that scarred the forehead, running from the top of the head to the eye itself. The wound bled with a vicious turquoise liquid dotted with golden flakes. The edges of the wound, shredded much more than the knife should be able to, were growing darker by the moment. Flakes of flesh came off like flower petals from a dying rose.

"YOU FUCKING FILTH! YOU DARE RAISE YOUR HAND AT A GOD?!"

"Yeah, yeah, eat shit. Just end my suffering. If I have to hear even one more word from you, I'll kill myself."

Overwhelmed by rage and disrespect, the monster started huffing with steamy hot breath, sounding and feeling like the bellows of a blacksmith. It stomped from foot to foot, trying to find words to express its rage. It flopped Luke's body around like a ragdoll, yet it didn't let him die until he said his last word.

Looking around, the monster suddenly froze, and a smile bloomed on its blood-covered face. Flashing its pearly whites, it spoke with a suspiciously pleasant voice:

"Don't worry, I'm finished with you. But rejoice, as I am merciful, and I will let you rest where you belong."

With a few steps, longer than a normal human's stride, it closed in on a hatch leading to the sewers. The hatch resembled those in the real world but was cast in thick iron, adorned with sigils and unknown letters to Luke.

"Filth belongs in the sewers."

With a heave, the monster lifted the hatch, which seemed to weigh hundreds of kilograms. As it opened, a projection of light, likely a spell matrix, emerged from it.

The monster looked at Luke with a smile. In the moment Luke wanted to respond, spit, or show any sign of last resistance, he was smashed onto the pavement like a hammer, once, twice, thrice.

In his last moments, all he could hear was laughter and the rushing of water.

Then everything went dark.