Reverend Insanity [part 1]

This chapter is only for readers 18+ and contains disturbing scenes. Please read it at your own risk.

I turned around abruptly, feeling the adrenaline course through me like a cold wave.

The darkness seemed almost alive, the shadows dense and vibrant like a suffocating black tide.

I gripped the knife, the cold metal digging into my trembling hand. The rustling behind me intensified, becoming a low roar that reverberated off the narrow corridor walls.

A figure emerged from the shadows, indistinct but menacing, a silhouette moving with deliberate slowness.

The shadow approached, a black wall advancing with a will of its own.

Each step the figure took was accompanied by a dull roar, a sound that made the walls shake and resonated in my bones.

The knife in my hand seemed to throb, as if it had absorbed the darkness itself and was now releasing that malevolent energy.

I felt a distorted sense of euphoria, a twisted desire to face whatever awaited me.

The figure finally emerged from the darkness, revealing a formless mass of shadows and flesh, a creature defying any human definition.

In front of me materialized a monstrous figure, tall and massive.

The creature had an unnatural and terrifying appearance: its body was a tangle of taut muscles and fibrous flesh that seemed stretched to the point of bursting.

Its skin, if it could be called that, was an irregular and contorted surface, a mosaic of scars and torn tissue where it was pale and translucent in some places, while in others it appeared cracked and scarred, as if it had been poorly mended after countless wounds.

The creature's head was a mask of horror.

Its eyes were two bottomless pits, black as the darkest night, absorbing all light and hope.

Instead of a mouth, an irregular slit opened and closed, revealing rows of sharp, yellowed teeth that glinted in the dim corridor light.

Its hands were large and deformed, ending in long, curved claws, ready to rend flesh.

The entire figure emanated an aura of power and malevolence, as if it were a tangible manifestation of the deepest darkness.

It was as if it had been stitched together from pieces of nightmares, like a chimera born from the combination of parts of different races.

What could be defined as a creature born from the pursuit of perfection itself, inspiring fear and reverence.

Seeing this, I understood that I had to take the initiative and not let it take control of the fight.

So I lunged at it with a wild scream, the knife raised.

The blade sank into the creature's flesh with a wet, visceral sound, piercing the fleshy, viscous tissue, but seemed to have no effect.

I felt a strangely elastic resistance, as if the blade were cutting through a semi-liquid, rubbery substance.

A spray of black, thick blood spurted from the wound, hitting my face and making me squeeze my eyes shut for a moment.

The creature let out a furious roar, a sound that echoed like a thousand overlapping voices in a cacophony of agony and rage.

With surprising speed, it grabbed my chest with one of its clawed hands and threw me against the corridor wall.

I felt my body impact with tremendous force, pain exploding in my chest as my ribs bent under the pressure.

I collapsed to the ground, struggling to catch my breath as the world around me spun vertiginously.

Where each breath was a blade stabbing my chest.

But there was no time for pain, no room for fear.

Despite the searing pain, I stood up with determination.

I spat blood and, with a look of pure determination, lunged at the creature again.

The knife came down in a perfect arc, striking the creature's side.

The blade sank in deeply, tearing through skin and underlying muscles.

I heard the dull sound of the blade cutting through the creature's ribs, a noise like thick fabric being ripped.

Another jet of black blood gushed from the wound, staining me even more.

Every blow was accompanied by a spray of black, viscous blood, an oily substance that splattered everywhere, staining my face and hands.

The creature reacted with inhuman violence, its clawed hands tearing at my flesh.

I felt a claw dig into my shoulder, ripping away chunks of skin and muscle.

The pain was unbearable, a burning flame searing through my flesh.

But there was something perversely exhilarating about it all, a twisted pleasure that made me scream not just in pain, but in incredible euphoria.

The fight became a whirlpool of blood and violence.

The creature hit me with brutal force, each blow an explosion of pain.

Its clawed hands scratched and tore at me, leaving trails of blood streaming down my body.

I felt the warmth of blood on my open wounds, a contrast to the icy cold that had seeped into my bones.

But the more it hurt me, the more I felt a blind, delirious fury grow inside me.

In a moment of mad clarity, I began to laugh.

It was the same cruel and insane laughter as before, a sound that seemed to come from the depths of my madness.

Each blow I struck was accompanied by a spray of blood, the sound of flesh tearing and bones cracking.

The knife slid between the creature's ribs, puncturing organs and tissues.

Every wound inflicted seemed to drive the creature further into madness, its movements becoming increasingly frantic and violent.

Its clawed hands continued to rip at my flesh, each scratch a trail of blood running down my body.

I felt my own blood mix with the creature's, a nauseating blend that covered me like a second skin.

Despite this, I was enjoying myself.

My laughter exploded, a mad and insane laugh that filled the corridor.

Every blow, every spray of blood was a tribute to my fight for freedom.

The pain was a constant, but there was also a perverse pleasure in it all, a kind of euphoria that pushed me to continue.

I was overwhelmed by violence, immersed in a deadly dance of blows and wounds.

There was a dark pleasure in this violence, a sick joy in seeing the blood splatter, in feeling the flesh tear beneath my blade.

Where the knife went up and down, the sound of flesh ripping mingled with the creature's gurgling.

My hands were covered in blood, a viscous mask that made every movement slippery and difficult.

I tasted the metallic tang of blood in my mouth, mine and the creature's, a nauseating mixture that filled my throat.

But I didn't stop, I couldn't stop.

My laughter grew louder, a scream of pure madness that filled the corridor.

The creature tried to fight back, its movements becoming increasingly desperate.

I felt one last blow, a wound that opened my side, the blood gushing out.

But my laughter continued, fueled by a dark force that pushed me forward.

Every knife strike, every spurt of blood, was a tribute to my liberation.

I was a god of destruction, a being reborn in violence.

With one final, desperate cry, I plunged the knife into the creature's heart.

I felt the metal pierce the flesh, a dull, definitive sound.

The creature stopped, its body trembling, then fell with a heavy thud.

I stood there, panting, my chest rising and falling frantically.

My laughter gradually died down, leaving a heavy and oppressive silence.

I was covered in blood, the wounds burning like liquid fire.

Every movement was agony, but I felt a strange inner peace.

I slowly stood up, staggering.

The creature's body lay at my feet, a formless shadow of flesh and blood.

I had won.