Carnage Requiem: The Maniacs vs. the hoarde part 1(Blood+++)

"We are so dead..."

Thousands of descendants of the Demiurge clan stood atop a jagged cliff, their hearts gripped by an overwhelming sense of dread.

Before them stretched a grand canyon, its immense expanse seemingly endless. Surrounding it were mountains so colossal that they seemed to pierce the heavens, making the descendants feel as insignificant as ants.

"What is this rotting smell?" a young woman murmured, wrinkling her nose as the acrid stench permeated the air.

Instinctively, their gazes shifted skyward, and a collective unease settled over them. The sky was a deep, unnatural red, its eerie hue unsettling and oppressive.

Above hung a shattered moon, its surface riddled with jagged cracks, while fragments of its remains floated in a chaotic orbit, casting an eerie, fragmented glow over the desolate land.

The ground was barren, devoid of life or spiritual Qi. Instead, the atmosphere was suffused with an aura of despair and sorrow, pressing down on them like an invisible weight. It became unbearable for some.

At first, the weak-willed merely gasped for breath, their faces pale and twisted with discomfort. But the suffocating pressure soon became lethal.

Their veins darkened, their eyes bulged, and blood began to seep from their noses and mouths. Bodies convulsed violently before collapsing, lifeless. Hundreds fell within moments, their corpses littering the cliff.

"What the hell is happening?"

"Haven't we suffered enough?"

"Who did we offend?"

The survivors' voices rose in panic, their cries echoing through the canyon. Some clung to each other, mourning friends or potential lovers who had fallen beside them, while others screamed in confusion and rage.

Though they had grown accustomed to death, the suddenness and brutality of this event faltered their resolve.

"KE KE KE KE..."

The laughter, low and guttural, echoed ominously through the air. It silenced the chaos as every head turned upward, seeking the source of the sound.

Shadows in the sky began to writhe and swirl, coalescing into a dark, twisting portal. From within emerged a grotesque figure, its form horrifying and otherworldly.

Many recognized the being instantly. It was Daoist Southern Turtle, a creature that occasionally appeared within the sanctuary. But here, in this lifeless, oppressive place, his presence was far more sinister.

The descendants stood frozen, their fear choking any words they might have spoken. None dared to question or provoke the monstrosity now looming before them.

"Welcome to EBONHOLD an independent dimension meant for criminals of the clan and Demonic entities captured by our Demiurge clan

Everything you have learnt till now was meant for this moment" Daoist Southern Turtle shouted with a tone filled with excitement and Narcissism making Azrael's lips twitch.

'He reminds me of uncle Azazel' Azreal pondered as he continued to listen.

The Ebonhold is a dimension created and maintained by the Demiurge Clan. It serves as a prison for criminals, traitors, and captured demonic entities.

Unlike typical prisons, the Ebonhold is not meant for rehabilitation. It is a place of suffering, devoid of Qi and life force, ensuring that no prisoner can grow stronger or escape.

The prison is divided into three areas: the Outer Area, the Inner Area, and the Core Area. The Outer Area is where the descendants of the Demiurge Clan currently find themselves.

This is the outermost level of the Ebonhold, where the punishment begins. It is not the worst part of the prison, but the absence of Qi and the oppressive atmosphere still make it a place of great torment.

Those considered more dangerous are sent to the Inner Area or the Core Area, where suffering becomes unbearable. The Core Area is where the most dangerous prisoners are held, enduring a fate worse than death.

For the Demiurge Clan, executions are swift and final. However, those sent to the Ebonhold face a fate far worse, to exist in torment, with no escape and no hope of release.

"Below this cliff, there's a horde of demonic cultivators," Daoist Southern Turtle began, his voice grim. "The strongest among them is at the initial 5th stage of the Body Tempering Realm.

However, in terms of sheer numbers, they number in the hundreds of thousands. So, the odds... well, they're not in your favor." He held up a large mirror, showing the scene to the descendants. In the center of the horde, something unusual stood out: a golden flag planted in the ground.

"This is the last trial, and for the first time, you have a choice between two options," Daoist Southern Turtle said, his voice calm but resolute.

"The first choice: you're free to go home, return to your normal lives. The sanctuary has taught you much. You've gained battle experience that would take most cultivators decades to acquire and knowledge few will ever possess.

The years the sanctuary took from you are small compared to what you've gained." He waved his hand, and shadows moved, forming a massive portal behind him.

"The second choice: fight the demonic cultivators below and retrieve the golden flag. The battle might last months or even years.

You won't have spiritual food to replenish your Qi, nor will you be able to advance to the third stage of the Body Tempering Realm.

You will take lives, execute those who must be executed, and many of you will die. But great risks bring great rewards. For those who want to leave, the portal is open. Decide now—you have ten seconds."

As soon as Daoist Southern Turtle finished speaking, many descendants broke into a run, heading for the portal. Some feared for their lives; others feared the uncertainty of what lay ahead.

"Why aren't you leaving, Teng?" Azrael asked, his confusion evident.

"I was sent here to die. Might as well see it through," Teng replied with a shrug.

"Uriel?"

"The experience we've gained here is worth decades. I think Mother sent us to see this through to the end. It might lead to something greater," Uriel replied, though her sigh betrayed her hesitation. She wanted to leave, but her instincts told her otherwise.

The exodus continued, and from the original 15,000 descendants, only 1,300 remained.

"Good. Good. Good," Daoist Southern Turtle said, his tone laced with approval. "Now jump from the cliff and retrieve the flag." He waved his hand, summoning their weapons.

Taking their weapons one by one, the remaining descendants stepped forward, and without hesitation, they began to jump from the cliff into the unknown below.

....

"The mystic demon clan young master was devoured by me, I can remember tearing his flesh and refining his body... good times."

"HE!!! The Demiurge clan imprisoned me for slaughtering mortals and devouring their souls to enhance my cultivation. What's wrong with that?"

"You can't slaughter mortals since they are protected by the heavenly Dao. Killing one would... Holy shit, are those falling stars?"

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!

The demonic cultivators stopped talking, their gazes snapping to the crashing sound, and they saw silhouettes approaching through the dust.

"Falling Sta... KE KE KE! THE DAY HAS FINALLY ARRIVED!!!! MY BROTHERS AND SISTERS, REJOICE!" one of the demonic cultivators shouted, his voice amplified with Qi, alerting the rest of those hidden in the canyon.

"What do you mean, the day has arrived? What kind of scheme is it this time?" Azrael's voice echoed, his silhouette emerging from the veil of dust, closing in on the isolated group of demonic cultivators.

"KE! Killing you descendants of the Demiurge clan in the Ebonhold is our free ticket! Don't take it personally, it's just business.

While I'm at it, I might as well enjoy that little girl by your side," the demonic cultivator leered, eyeing Uriel. "Ohh, the number of positions we might do all nigh.... ARRGG HHHH!!! "

Thud!

The surrounding cultivators looked in shock as the demonic cultivator's right arm fell to the ground. They then noticed Azrael, his hands stained, blood dripping from crescent blades. Without a word, Azrael moved.

In a blink, he closed the distance and appeared beside the demonic cultivator, his crescent blades slicing clean through the air. The next moment, the demonic cultivator's head hit the ground with a wet thud.

"I took it personally," Azrael said coldly, standing over the corpse. "Are you courting death? No... you're already dead."

As Azrael's blades retracted into the air, the ground trembled.

RUMBLE!!!

Tens of thousands of demonic cultivators poured from the hidden caves and valleys within the Grand Canyon. The killing intent, thick with bloodlust, made Azrael's blood boil. It was strange, but he ignored it, setting himself into a battle stance.

...