While some places experienced the joy and happiness of reunions, being thankful for their companions, who they thought dead, being alive, other places had a completely different situation.
In a place relatively far away, to the north of Cypress town, ruins of what was once a town were burning. Where once were bustling streets filled with merchants, now were streets filled with death, corpses, and desolation.
Blood covered the insides of many of the homes, the doors of which were broken down, some even having collapsed completely.
Smoke rose up from the fires all across the ruined town, covering the sky as if the heavens themselves didn't want to watch the unfolding atrocities. Screams, shouts and howls could be heard all over, ones filled with fear, misery, and hatred.
In one of the streets, a man was running away from the center of the town, trying to get to the walls of it, trying to flee the disaster which fell on the place he once lived in. However, as he ran around the corner of the street, human figures appeared in front of him, causing him to scream out in terror.
They were covered in various leathers and bones, masks made of skulls of various species covering most of their faces. Disturbingly enough, some of those masks were made of hollowed-out human skulls. Even so, the smiles and grins were visible under the covers, as if these humans were having the time of their lives.
The man immediately turned around, scrambling to his feet, fleeing from the ones he saw commit so many atrocities, the ones who brought the disaster upon his home. Although he wanted nothing more than to take revenge on them, he knew better than that, knowing what they were capable of.
However, just as he ran into one of the side alleys, he was met face-to-face with a wolf who was as tall as him. The beast didn't waste any time, attacking the man immediately with a lunge.
The runner, however, threw himself to the ground, the wolf jumping past him. The man then stood up and ran once again. Just as he was to make it out of the narrow alley, the figures covered in leather and bone once again appeared in front of him.
With the wolf still on his heels, the man had no choice but to try to run past them. He was, however, unsuccessful.
As he tried charging past them, the man felt burning pain, seeing how two of the figures caught him by piercing him with sickle-like weapons. Other figures then pierced him with various other weapons made with bone and teeth, carving into his flesh, and dragging him screaming along the ground, all while having those grins on their faces.
The figures stopped in front of the wolf that previously chased him, the beast not attacking them, instead staring at the man who was bleeding out.
Suddenly, the humans covered in leather and bone started speaking in near-perfect synchronicity.
"Oh mighty hunter, your unworthy servants bring you your rightful prey."
Following those words, they tore their weapons out of the man, ignoring his agony. They then threw him towards the wolf, continuing their chanting.
"May the weak be stripped of their strength, may their flesh nourish us, for only the strong have the right to live."
The wolf then tore into the man, the blood of the man flowing on the stone of the alley, his screams echoing.
"We worship the Beast, we guide our masters. For they show us the truth, and we follow their example."
Soon enough only the bones remained of what was once a man, eerie chanting echoing all around.
"For Humanity is weak, and the Beast is strong."
As the chanting ended, silence descended upon the alley, leaving only the masked figures and the blood-stained wolf. The wolf merely glanced at the humans, before going towards them. The figures parted to the sides, bowing their heads in front of it. The wolf did not attack, only walking past them.
The figures remained in such a position until the wolf disappeared from their sight. After that, they continued their walk, searching for runaways, for prey of their masters.
Such a scene was commonly seen around the ruined streets all over this town which was once known as Rockridge town. Blood-covered bones were strewn in every place where the prey was caught.
And in cases where the beast didn't eat their catch completely, things took an even darker turn.
The chant-speaking humans devoured the remains themselves, engaging in acts of cannibalism while speaking of 'gifts' from their 'masters'.
Only the very center of the town was exempt from such chaos, but that didn't mean the absence of the cultist-like humans and beasts, no, quite the opposite in fact.
In the town's center, various bodies were piled together, forming a circle. And in the middle of that circle were bound men and women, often maimed, who looked like battle-hardened fighters. Those who weren't unconscious either broke down in despair or struggled desperately against their restraints.
The cause for their hatred and desperation was right in front of them, in the form of yet another skull-masked figure, and a beast.
But these two differed greatly from the other humans and beasts who were ravaging the town at the moment. The masked figure held a staff, a cracked human skull adorning the top of it. The mask of this cultist was made from a great wolven skull.
This cultist stood beside a giant tiger, whose face was covered in many scars, the red and black of its fur reminiscent of fire and coal. Light of intelligence was visible in its eyes, showing that it was no mere beast, but a true predator, a true hunter.
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As time passed, more and more beasts and skull-masked figures arrived at the town square, the humans being visibly reverent of the beasts. Eventually, the majority of those ravaging the town gathered, and as they were present, the human near the tiger shouted out.
"The Scarred Lord has spoken!"
Cheers erupted among the other cultists, showing great joy on visible parts of their faces.
"I, as the High Priest, one who speaks the words of the Lord to our lowly kind, congratulate you on another successful hunt! And when our masters claim their rightful prize, as their servants we may claim whatever remains! We reject our Humanity, and accept the Beast!"
As the High Priest shouted out, his shout was repeated amongst the other cultists.
"We reject our Humanity, and accept the Beast!"
"We reject our Humanity, and accept the Beast!"
Following that, the priest raised his arm, causing the humans to fall silent. He then stepped back. The tiger, who was previously staring at the one called the High Priest, raised its head and roared out with a rumbling voice.
The might of his roar caused all to kneel in submission, be they beast or human. After that, the tiger walked towards one of the bound warriors. The human trembled, tears falling down his face.
"No, no, please no!"
The tiger didn't listen, his jaws clamping down on the human, splitting him and half and swallowing the upper half whole. The lower half followed soon after.
The overlord of beasts then walked towards the next human in binds. A similar scene occurred, the tiger devouring them one by one, showing not an inkling of mercy however the prey might have begged.
Eventually, all the captured humans in the circle of bodies were devoured, the tiger having a satisfied expression on his face. Having finished his feast, he stared at everyone around him, who still had their head on the ground as a sign of submission, furthering his satisfaction.
The scarred tiger then roared out once again, the reaction to this roar, however, was far different. The beasts responded with their own howls and roars, throwing themselves at the bodies that were arranged in a circle.
Meanwhile, the humans stood where they were previously, watching the beasts feast and fight amongst themselves for the bodies, sometimes drool escaping their own mouths.
As such a pandemonium continued, the tiger stared at the High Priest who was still kneeling near him devoutly. The priest's head jerked upwards, his eyes under his mask meeting his master's gaze.
This stare continued for a couple of seconds before the priest kneeled once more.
"Yes, my lord, your servant will bless the unworthy with your words."
When the beasts stopped gorging themselves on the bodies, dispersing from what was left behind, the priest spoke out once again.
"Fellow servants! Our Overlord speaks of a perilous journey to a new hunting ground far away. And because of this, only a hundred of us may continue forward."
Every cultist watched the priest with rapt attention, ready to follow whatever order they were given.
"Go forth! Devour the flesh of the weak! Make their strength your own! Prove the worth of your lives!"
Shouting erupted from the cultists, all of them surging towards whatever remains were left, stuffing themselves, picking flesh from bones.
Amidst all this, they also fought amongst each other, sometimes shoving others away, sometimes wielding their weapon and killing their fellow cultists. Disturbingly enough, those who have fallen were not 'wasted' as well.
Such a thing continued until no previously prepared body remained, the bodies of cultists littering the ground. It didn't take long for approximately three hundred cultists to turn into a little more than a hundred.
Mere seconds after that, only a hundred remained.
The priest, seeing this, shouted out.
"Enough! Those who still draw breath, you have proven yourself! Pride yourselves on your strength!"
However, the expected cheers didn't ring out, the cultists instead looking at the priest silently, or rather what was behind him.
The High Priest turned around, and kneeled once again, seeing his Lord right in front of him. However, as if hearing something, he asked in confusion.
"My lord, what do you mean there are one hundred and one..."
The priest then quickly raised his head just in time to see the rapidly closing jaws of his Lord.
"Ah..."
And so, the priest was devoured in a similar fashion to those previously bound, his staff clattering onto the ground. Following his death, cheers finally rang out once again amongst the cultists.
They, however, kneeled once again as their Lord swept his gaze past them as if brought down by some invisible pressure. And then, in the mind of every cultist, a growling voice rang out.
"Puny humans."
All cultists were shocked hearing such a voice, instinctively knowing who it belonged to - their Scarred Lord, who was talking to each and every one of them.
"For so long you have followed me, like ducklings who lost their mother. For so long I have to speak to only the one you called the 'High Priest'."
The giant tiger walked back and forth, contempt dripping from his voice.
"But he proved himself unworthy, thinking that my unwillingness to speak to each of your filthy minds at the same time absolved him of the need to prove himself. He remained weak. He has disappointed me."
Every surviving human felt a chill down their spine, a feeling of impending doom enveloping them.
"Some of you have followed me out of desperation, thinking of me as your savior your guide."
The tiger equivalent of a 'humph' could be heard.
"I have grown tired of such a game. I have no need for the weak. If not for how useless other beasts were in things other than hunting, I would have no need for you whatsoever, your only purpose being the source of my strength."
Some of the humans were on the verge of fainting as the pressure intensified.
"However, the hundred of you may still prove to be of value. I have been leading my pack to what you call 'South' simply for entertainment, but recently I have found my destination. The hunt's destination."
With those words, the pressure lessened, and some cultists managed to lift their heads.
"While my pack hunts on these grounds, you will go forward. This 'priest' of yours told me of another gathering of your puny kind in those lands. You will find it. You will burn it to the ground. You will find the True Hunting Ground that your kind doesn't deserve."
The tiger then narrowed its eyes at the crowd of groveling cultists.
"You will either do it or die trying. Now get out of my sight."
The cultists scrambled from their knees, before bowing and chanting in unison.
"The Scarred Lord blesses us! We live to serve the Scarred Lord!"
After that, the humans quickly disappeared into the streets and out of the town, how many of them would actually try to fulfill the mission and how many of them would run away at the prospect of being devoured in return for their dutiful servitude remained unknown.
But the scarred tiger didn't care. If the humans failed in their task, he would simply raze that gathering of humans to the ground himself. Although it would be slightly bothersome and less convenient, it wouldn't demand too much of him, merely spending a little more time beating more beasts into doing his bidding.
The tiger continued to think within his mind, as he lay down comfortably amidst the blood and bones.
'Those humans are only fit for being servants. Had the beasts been any smarter the humans would have been completely useless.'
As the tiger descended into a peaceful afternoon slumber, knowing that nothing could harm him, not that anything near him would even dare attack him.
'Those True Hunting Grounds will be mine... Only I deserve them. As she had named me Khan, I will fulfill the meaning of my name, I will rule over all...'
And so, the beast slowly descended into slumber amidst the flames and stench of death. All while dreaming of grand ambitions under a smoke-filled sky.