Crown Of Blasphemy: Rise Of The Legendary Villain

The first thing i felt was teeth, human jaws sinking into my torso, trembling, twisting, tearing, before clamping down and ripping free a chunk of my flesh.

Of course, this was the rational way of describing it, for the thought accompanying that moment could only be translated to pain.

My eyes shot open because of an onset of immediate, excruciating pain, but I couldn't move; I could only scream.

My body had been bound by thin leather ropes.

And yet i could feel people around me, people I had trusted, laughing, laughing while my body trembled violently beneath their faces, distorted into gleeful smiles.

Some made snide remarks as they ate, like connoisseurs grading an exotic meal.

The first person I registered was Thirio, sweet, thoughtful Thirio who swallowed the piece of flesh he had just torn out of my form.

His eyes were wide, his smiling mouth smeared with my black blood. He appeared a bit shocked, and he had every reason to be.

My blood was black after all, but that was besides the point—the others simply didn't care, the entire clan was there, and they seemed hungry.

I could see the clan leader, Ouranos, and everyone huddled into the small space of my tent, and they had that look in their eyes, that look that I could not register before, that look that made itself so evident that they saw me as food.

I felt my heart sink, but I did not seek to beg; instead, I shook, groaned, kicked, and thrashed like a worm, trying to escape, trying to break free.

But I could not.

Because everyone lunged at me, ravaging me like the animals that they were.

I had chosen to trust. My lack of intellect had allowed me to accept the help of my fellow man.

And yet, it was these fellow men who bit at my throat, my groin, my thighs, and even when they noticed that I was healing, they continued.

Of course, all of the clan couldn't possibly have fit in my hut; they took turns, I think—each clan member taking a bite of my succulent flesh before being chased away.

I could hear remarks like:

"He tastes delicious,"

"His blood is black!"

"It's been so long since we had meat,"

But they were drowned out by my sometimes-gargled screams, as my body was bitten into while healing simultaneously.

Yet despite the oddity of the human they were feeding on, despite the fact that I could heal they did not stop.

To them—to these animals, these signs meant infinite meat.

It was all a blur, I think the change happened around the time my forearm was decapitated with a bone machete.

I could feel it.

My body suddenly stopped healing as though depleted, but it wasn't; my body had just decided to focus on something else, something better—something that was all around me.

And i had become a sleeping spectator.

Prey oftentimes remains oblivious until it is too late.

That is why they didn't notice, thinking back, I find it amusing, the people who were feasting on me didn't notice when the eyes of their supposed victim went pitch black.

They must have assumed I was dying when my spasming body broke through my restraints.

They must have assumed I was dying when my groans of pain became more bestial and my blackened fingers dug into the otherwise hard stone.

They must have assumed I was dying when I threw off a clan member who was previously gnawing on my ribs.

They must have assumed I was dying when I drove my entire forearm through the chest of another clan member and bit into his neck, my unbelievable wounds healing rapidly.

But that was all I could remember.....

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A long while later.

A hand broke through a pile of bodies, or remnants of bodies, blood, dismembered limbs—carnage."

The hand was pitch black, gleaming as though coated with a sort of abysmal mineral. That same hand braced against the pile of corpses, pulling the body up.

Unfortunately, that hand belonged to a human, or half a human, one that we know: Mr. Valen.

At the moment, Mr. Valen did not look quite like himself: he retained a humanoid shape, but both his arms were now pitch black.

His pitch black eyes were soulless, lacked focus, but there was no remorse for what he had done, just a frown caused by a bad headache. He still had not regained the ability to think, no matter how hard he tried.

One thing was different though; one little detail to note. There seemed to be something extending out of his backside, swaying from side to side.

It was a pitch-black tail, like obsidian.

A tail that seemed like an unnatural extension of his spine because of its shape, emerging from the base of his back.

Its length was deceptive, seemingly much too long for the human frame, yet the way it swayed suggested complete control, like it had a mind of its own.

The surface was glossy, catching the dim light like volcanic glass, and its tip was like a cruel elongated triangle, keen enough to split flesh with the barest touch.

Despite its slender width which was no thinner than two fingers pressed together, it bore the segmented ridges of a spinal column, each groove and joint flexing with unnatural fluidity.

The patterning of the thing mimicked vertebrae as though the tail were not an addition but an exposed continuation of his own backbone.

It was at that moment that his body trembled, and the odd new extension to his body shrank drastically as though it was folding itself.

Once it reached the appropriate size, it resembled no longer a whip, but a condensed knot of spine and tendons.

As soon as this congested knot made contact with his back, it jabbed, creating a wet sucking sound—the sound of skin splitting like paper under a blade.

It was an odd sight watching the tail region of his body, that grotesque limb disappearing and melting, that jarring wound healing without a trace like his body had been built for this.

And Mr. Valen, well, he couldn't feel anything. Mind you, he was completely aware, but he could not feel it as one would expect.

It was not painful, just weird—similar to the sensation of moving one's tongue within one's mouth.

Looking around at the carnage he had created, looking around at the destruction he had caused, he felt nothing.

The blackness in his eyes cleared up soon after, revealing his normal glowing green, and his arms regained their natural color shortly after.

It was then that he took a step, walking away from the pile of corpses, not minding the gap in his memory.

He couldn't think about it even if he wanted to anyway.

He walked past empty tents and the pale, decapitated forms of humans. He even saw Thirio's head lying at a corner, eyes still wide in shock.

But Mr. Valen still did not care; rather, he seemed more curious about something else: something located in the middle of the cave.

"What was that smell?" Mr. Valen thought to himself his curiosity cutting through the numbness, he could still smell it, he always could, he just didn't know what it was.

Upon reaching the clan leader's tent, he dragged the thing down and was shocked when he saw a familiar obase man with a large cavity in his chest.

It was the clan leader.

Upon seeing him, the clan leader responded with wide eyes and ragged breath, his voice barely audible: "&@-&#&!"

He yelled in an unknown language, letting Mr. Valen become aware that he had lost the magical ability to understand the language of this world.

Ignoring the clan leader, who was sure to die soon, he peered into the pit that had so piqued his curiosity before, but this time he made sure to hold his breath.

Inside the pit was something he could—well—it is best to describe the thing as it was seen:

It was an amalgamation of rotting flesh, animal carcasses, worms, maggots, and mangled human bodies, all coming together to form a single, blob thing that pulsed disgustingly as though it was alive.

As he stared down at this thing, it stared back and suddenly a single thought pulsed from it. 'Blood!'

Mr. Valen stepped back, shaken, his ears ringing, his mind in shambles, as he struggled not to fall.

"How the fuck is this possible? What is this?" Mr. Valen muttered, looking towards the clan chief but he wasn't disgusted, as any human in their right mind would be; he was intrigued

But the smell did disgust him, so there was that as well

To his question, the blob of a man before him trembled in fear as though he were staring at death itself.

"Come on you tried to eat me, and now you're scared of me, it doesn't make sense, although I wouldn't be too happy if my bacon attacked me," Mr. Valen mused before moving past the pit speaking to the clan leader, "what is that smelly blob what fascinating experiment were you cannibals conducting?"

In response to his question, the clan leader just repeatedly shook his head, whimpering, almost crying.

And in that moment, just when Mr. Valen was about to ask another question, the man or blob of a man started convulsing before he stopped moving altogether. He was dead.

Letting out a sigh, Mr. Valen stood up straight and walked to the side of the cave where he found supplies.

He intended to loot the clan before going on his way.