In the depths of an underground prison, a cavernous abyss carved from the bones of the earth, David and Luna stumbled upon horrors that clawed at the edges of sanity—twisted experiments with flesh and sinew, broken souls weeping in the shadows, and the sibilant whispers of a coming war that dripped like venom from unseen lips. The air was thick with the stench of blood and decay, a miasma that clung to their skin like a lover's desperate embrace. Luna's rage, a wildfire barely contained, ignited into a blazing inferno as her emerald eyes fell upon the butchered innocents—limbs torn asunder, torsos hollowed out, faces frozen in eternal screams. Her golden hair, once a radiant halo, now hung in blood-soaked tendrils, matting against her white armor, which was no longer pristine but drenched in crimson, a grotesque canvas of slaughter.
David, his heart a cauldron of sorrow and fury, confronted a trembling cultist clad in tattered purple robes, the man's sadistic smile widening grotesquely as he groveled, his voice a pitiful whine.
"Mercy… please, mercy…"
He begged, his hands clawing at the dirt, nails breaking against the stone. But mercy had long since abandoned David, a forsaken relic of a softer past. His lips curled into a snarl, his eyes blazing with a darkness that mirrored the abyss around them. With a flick of his power, a surge of raw, untamed energy, the cultist's body convulsed, veins bursting beneath his skin like overripe fruit. Blood erupted in a violent spray, painting the walls in a macabre fresco, sealing the fate of those who dared to play with darkness. The man's screams echoed, then died, swallowed by the oppressive silence of the chamber.
As the last echoes of the cultist's death faded, Luna's sword gleamed in the flickering torchlight, a silver fang eager to carve through the filth that remained. Her breaths came in sharp, ragged gasps, her chest heaving beneath the bloodied armor, her knuckles white around the hilt. And in the shadows, David laughed—a low, guttural sound that promised carnage yet to come, a symphony of violence that would drown the world in red.
This was but a glimpse of the previous chapter, a descent into madness and retribution. Now, the story spiraled deeper into the abyss.
David, his hands still trembling with the aftershocks of his power, dispelled the shimmering sphere of concealment he had conjured, a barrier that had cloaked their slaughter from prying eyes. The air rippled as the magic dissolved, revealing the full extent of their carnage. As the heavy iron door creaked open, Luna stepped into the room, a vision of death incarnate. Her golden blonde hair, once a beacon of light, was now a cascade of blood, dripping onto the stone floor with a sickening plop. Her white armor, a symbol of purity, was now a grotesque tapestry of gore, clinging to her curves in a way that was both horrifying and perversely erotic, the blood outlining every contour of her body. Her beautiful smile, that radiant warmth that had once soothed David's tormented soul, was gone, replaced by a grimace of rage and sorrow. Her face and hands were smeared with blood, as if she had bathed in the life essence of her enemies, a goddess of vengeance reborn in crimson.
A bat, its wings slicing through the fetid air, soared through the research area, its beady eyes capturing the carnage below in a sweeping, cinematic arc.
The camera angle shifted to the bat's eye view, plunging the reader into a dizzying, disorienting flight through the underground labyrinth. The bat swooped past the bodies of black-robed men, their lifeless forms sprawled in grotesque tableaux—throats slit, chests caved in, limbs twisted at unnatural angles. The demonic mages, their dark rituals silenced forever, lay in pools of their own blood, their faces frozen in expressions of terror and disbelief. The bat darted toward the cells, where the iron bars hung open, the captives having fled into the night, their chains broken by Luna's unrelenting fury. Not a single soul remained alive in her wake; she had become death itself, a whirlwind of steel and wrath.
David watched her, his mind a storm of conflicting emotions. *Well, this is a new learning for her, I guess,* he thought, a bitter edge to his internal monologue. He forced a smile, though it felt like a grimace.
"Let's get out of here, Luna."
His voice was steady, but beneath it lay a tremor of unease, a premonition of doom. Luna, silent as a specter, followed him, her boots leaving bloody footprints on the stone.
But fate, cruel and capricious, had other plans. As they neared the cavern's exit, a sword—gleaming gold, its edge sharper than a god's wrath—burst through Luna's chest with a sickening crunch. Her mouth filled with blood, a crimson tide spilling over her lips, her eyes widening in shock and pain. David whirled, his heart seizing in his chest, his power surging to act, but it was too late. In a single, brutal motion, Luna's head rolled from her shoulders, her golden hair fanning out like a halo as her headless body crumpled to the ground, a marionette with its strings cut. The blood pooled beneath her, a dark mirror reflecting David's anguished face.
David's gaze snapped upward, his breath hitching as he beheld the perpetrator. Standing before him was a masked man, his presence radiating a chilling familiarity.
"You've shown your true colors, haven't you?"
The masked man taunted, his voice a distorted echo of David's own. With a flourish, he removed his mask, and David's world shattered. The face staring back at him was his own—scarred, bearded, with a jagged mark slicing through the right eye, but unmistakably *him*. David's knees buckled, sweat beading on his brow, his voice a strangled whisper.
"What… how is your face the same as mine?"
The masked David smirked, his scarred eye glinting with malice.
"As I said, I *am* you. My name is David. Linda was my wife in my previous world—my precious Linda, who betrayed me by spreading her legs for my own brother, James. Am I right, David?"
Each word was a dagger, twisting deeper into David's psyche, unearthing memories he had buried beneath layers of rage and sorrow. The masked David's laughter was a jagged blade, cutting through the silence.
"Looks like everything is confusing, isn't it? Well, I guess you'll have to die with this confusion."
Before David could react, a new figure emerged from the shadows—a masked woman with hair like molten fire, her presence dripping with danger and sensuality.
"Master, are you still not done?"
She purred, her voice a velvet caress laced with venom. In a blur of motion, the masked David struck, his blade slicing through David's face with surgical precision. David's scream was cut short as his head rolled from his shoulders, his body collapsing in a heap, blood gushing from the stump of his neck. The masked David threw back his head and laughed, a sound of triumph that echoed through the cavern.
"Finally, I've become the real being! I've taken the original's place! I am the *real* David now! Ha ha ha!"
His laughter was a crescendo of madness, a sound that had been centuries in the making, a release of pent-up rage and ambition.
But betrayal, ever the faithful companion of darkness, struck again. The red-haired woman, her mask still in place, drove her blade into the masked David's chest, the golden killer sword piercing his heart with a wet, sickening sound. He staggered, blood bubbling from his lips, his scarred eye widening in shock.
"Ruby…?"
He gasped, his voice a broken whisper.
Ruby tore off her mask, revealing a face streaked with tears, her eyes blazing with anguish and resolve.
"No David can be left in this world."
She said, her voice trembling with emotion.
"Because if a David is left, the world will meet its end for his own selfishness."
She knelt before him, her hands shaking as she gripped the sword, the weapon forged to slay gods, its golden surface now slick with her master's blood.
"I had no mother, no father, no family—but you were everything to me. That's why I followed you. We killed billions, and I still followed you. But I can't let you destroy this world too. I'm sorry, Master."
Her sobs echoed through the cavern, a raw, primal sound of grief and guilt.
The masked David, his lifeblood draining away, smiled—a sad, resigned smile.
"I don't feel guilty for my actions, dear Ruby. It's okay. I don't feel betrayed, because I still love my student, my little sister."
His body began to crumble, turning to ash, the golden sword's power consuming him utterly, leaving nothing but a pile of dust on the blood-soaked floor.
Ruby, her heart a shattered ruin, knelt beside the ashes, her tears mingling with the blood on the stone.
"I'm sorry, Master."
She whispered, her voice breaking under the weight of her guilt. She turned the golden sword toward her own neck, the blade's edge kissing her skin, ready to end her own life in a final act of atonement. But as the tip pierced her flesh, time itself froze, the air growing heavy with an otherworldly presence.
From a realm far beyond the universe, a force stronger than the gods, the creator of the multiverse itself, stirred. The scene shifted to a void of infinite darkness, where a shadowy figure loomed, its form incomprehensible, its eyes burning with a light that could unmake galaxies. Its voice, when it spoke, was a thunderous whisper, dripping with menace and amusement, each word a suspenseful hammer blow.
"Tch, tch, tch… things are spiraling out of control too quickly, aren't they? The story shouldn't end like this—not yet."
The camera zoomed in on the void, the darkness pulsing like a living thing, the creator's laughter a low, fearsome rumble that shook the fabric of reality.
"Luna's death… David's death… the masked David's death… no, no, no. This won't do."
With a wave of its unseen hand, time reversed in a blinding flash of light, the events unraveling like a tapestry torn apart. Luna's head reattached to her body, the blood retreating back into her veins, her eyes fluttering open as if waking from a dream. David's severed head fused back to his neck, his lifeless form springing upright, the confusion and pain erased from his memory. The masked David and Ruby were wrenched from the cavern, transported back to their black castle in a distant world, the golden sword vanishing into the ether. The creator's voice echoed through the void, its tone laced with dark amusement.
"Things should unfold more slowly, don't you think? The otherworld David should meet this world's David at the end—not now. I won't let the story rush to its conclusion. Ha ha ha ha!"
The laughter was a fearsome, bone-chilling sound, a promise of horrors yet to come.
David and Luna, their minds wiped clean of the horrors they had just endured, emerged from the cave into the pale moonlight, the blood on their armor the only evidence of the slaughter they had wrought. David glanced at Luna, his voice casual, as if nothing had happened.
"You're covered in blood, Luna. Let's get cleaned up."
Luna nodded, silent, her face a blank mask, the rage and sorrow she had felt moments ago erased by the creator's intervention.
The scene shifted to the black castle, a towering edifice of obsidian and shadow, where the masked David lay in a crystal sarcophagus, his body locked in eternal sleep by the creator's will. Ruby, her mask discarded, stood beside him, her face etched with sadness, her tears falling silently onto the cold stone floor. The creator's voice, distant now but no less menacing, echoed through the chamber.
"Ah, I hate doing these menial tasks. I'm very tired now. But since the otherworld David is in eternal slumber, there will be no disturbance to the original David. And this… this is how the story should go. Ha ha ha!"
The chapter ended on a note of dark suspense, the creator's laughter fading into the void, leaving the reader to ponder the machinations of a being beyond comprehension, and the inevitable collision of worlds that awaited David and Luna.