The Last Day of Love, The First Night of War

Pillichsdorf, nestled in the bosom of the Weinviertel region of Austria, was a bucolic utopia in which nature reigned supreme. Here, the rural idyll was soothed by a gentle breeze that whispered secrets to the rustling wheat fields, while the vast expanse of clear blue skies overhead watched over the village with a protective gaze.

Life in Pillichsdorf was a humble one, yet it was a life of purpose and fulfillment. The residents of this charming village lived off the land, subsisting on the fruits of their own labor. Their homes, crafted from sturdy stone and fragrant wood, were nestled together in the heart of the village, providing a sense of communal closeness that few other places could rival.

The streets of Pillichsdorf were unpaved, and the dust that rose from the ground with each footstep seemed to echo the daily rhythm of the villagers' toil. Few vehicles ever passed through, aside from the occasional horse-drawn carriage, which lent an air of rustic simplicity to the scene.

Yet despite its apparent simplicity, Pillichsdorf was a place of deep, abiding community. The people there knew each other by name, and they looked out for one another with a fierce protectiveness that was born of a shared way of life. They celebrated together, feasting on communal meals and reveling in the beauty of their surroundings.

But the heart of Pillichsdorf was the wheat fields. Here, under the blazing sun, the villagers toiled tirelessly, cultivating the golden grain that was the lifeblood of their existence. They worked with a sense of purpose and pride, knowing that the wheat they harvested would sustain them throughout the year.

And it was not just wheat that the villagers of Pillichsdorf tended to. They were masters of the art of cultivating a wide variety of crops, from sweet corn to savory potatoes and crisp, verdant vegetables. They raised livestock with care and attention, their cows and pigs, and chickens thriving under their watchful eye. And from the bounty of their labors, they crafted artisanal cheeses and other culinary delights that were the envy of many.

Life in Pillichsdorf was a romantic dream, a vision of a simpler time when the rhythm of the seasons and the cycle of the land were the guiding forces of existence. The people of this tranquil village were content and fulfilled, their spirits lifted by the beauty of the natural world that surrounded them, and by the warmth of the community that embraced them as fields.

The first rays of the morning sun cast a warm and golden glow over the fields of wheat, painting the sky in hues of pink and orange. Amidst the gentle rustling of the wind, a group of farmers gathered around the village's end, eagerly awaiting the start of their march toward the fields. Standing tall and lean, a young man with sinewy muscles honed from years of hard work on the land, moved with fluid grace, his hair the color of burnished copper shimmering in the sunlight as he readied himself for the day's toil.

The young man's family gathered around him to bid him farewell. His mother packed lunch of fresh bread, cured meats, and sweet, juicy apples with loving care. "May it give you the strength you need for the day, my sweet Lukas," she said with a tender smile.

Lukas' father stood with a sense of sturdy pride, his rough and calloused hands resting heavily on his son's broad, muscular shoulders. "My boy," he began, his voice deep and rich with emotion. "You grow into a finer young man day by day. Watching you work the land fills me with pride and a sense of nostalgia, for I too was once a young man working these very fields."

A smile crept across Lukas' face, his eyes alight with a sense of reverence for his father. "Thank you, Father," he said, his voice full of warmth and gratitude. "I am honored to be following in your footsteps and carrying on our family's legacy."

His two sisters, one with rosy cheeks and bright eyes, the other with a calm and serene demeanor, approached him with a flask of cool water and a bundle of wildflowers. "Stay hydrated, Lukas," the younger sister said, her voice laced with concern. "And please, be careful."

As Lukas was about to leave for the fields, his older sister approached him with a gentle smile, her warm gaze fixed on her brother. She handed him a small, homemade package of cookies, lovingly wrapped in brown paper.

"And don't forget to take a moment to enjoy the beauty of the fields while eating these, Lukas," she said softly, her voice full of warmth and tenderness.

Lukas smiled gratefully, taking the package of cookies from her with a nod. "Thank you, Franzi," he said, his voice filled with affection. "I'll make sure to savor them while I'm out there."

He gave a hearty hug to his sister.

Lukas' younger brother, with his mop of unruly hair and bright, curious eyes, clung to his leg, looking up at him with a mixture of admiration and longing. "Will you bring me a wheat stalk, Lukas?" he asked, his voice filled with excitement.

Lukas crouched down to his brother's level, his own eyes alight with affection. "Of course, my little adventurer," he replied with a grin. "And maybe we'll even find some wildflowers for our sisters next time we go out. They would love that, wouldn't they?"

The younger boy nodded eagerly, his face glowing with delight. And as Lukas tousled his hair one last time and stood up to leave, his family's voices rang in his ears, filled with love, pride, and encouragement. With a sense of purpose and a heart full of gratitude, he set off toward the fields, ready to tackle the day's work with all his might.

As he set off towards the fields, Lukas could feel the love and warmth of his family encircling him, like a protective cocoon. He knew he was blessed to have such a wonderful family, who supported him in every way. And as he walked, he felt the gentle breeze caressing his face, the soft rustle of the wheat fields, and the golden sunbeams dancing around him. He couldn't help but feel grateful for the beauty of life and the love of his family.

As they began their march toward the fields, the group fell into an easy rhythm of work and conversation. The sun beat down on their backs, and the heat was intense, but none of them complained. They had all grown accustomed to the demands of their laborious life, and it was simply a part of who they were.

As Lukas approached the group of farmers at the end of the village, he greeted them warmly, exchanging small talk with the familiar faces. "Good morning, everyone," he said, his voice filled with cheerfulness. "It's a beautiful day, isn't it?"

"It sure is," replied one of the farmers, a weathered man with a friendly smile. "Perfect for the harvest."

Lukas nodded in agreement. "I've been looking forward to this day for weeks," he said, excitement bubbling in his voice. "I always enjoy working with all of you."

Another farmer, a gruff-looking man with a thick beard, chuckled. "Well, you're certainly not afraid of hard work, Lukas," he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "You're a credit to your family."

Lukas smiled, feeling a sense of pride welling up inside him. "Thank you," he said. "My family has always taught me the value of hard work and dedication."

As they made their way towards the fields, Lukas continued chatting with the farmers, exchanging stories and sharing jokes. He felt a sense of camaraderie with them, knowing that they all shared the same love and respect for the land.

"You know," said the weathered farmer who had spoken earlier, "sometimes I wonder what life would be like if we weren't farmers. If we lived in the city, with all its noise and chaos."

The gruff farmer scoffed. "Why would anyone want to live like that?" he said. "Stuck in a cramped apartment, breathing in polluted air all day. No, give me the open fields any day."

Lukas nodded in agreement. "I can't imagine living anywhere else," he said. "The village and the fields have always been my home."

The conversation turned back to the upcoming harvest, and they discussed the various crops that needed to be tended to. The wheat was ready to be harvested, and there was still much work to be done before the day was out then to their families, and they shared stories of their children and spouses.

The weathered farmer's voice trembled as he spoke of his beloved wife, who had left him years ago. "She was my everything," he said, his eyes misty with unshed tears. "Her smile lit up my world, and her laughter was like music to my ears. But one day, she left me, and my heart shattered into a million pieces. Now, every day, I yearn for her touch and her warm embrace, wishing she were still here with me. But I know she's in a better place, where she can look down upon me and watch over me, always and forever."

"I know how you feel," said Lukas, sympathetically. "My grandfather passed away last year, and it's still hard to imagine life without him."

The gruff farmer let out a deep sigh and shook his head, his face contorted with a hint of annoyance. "Ah, sentimentality," he said, his tone tinged with bitterness. "It's all well and good, but it doesn't put food on the table, does it?"

Lukas looked at the farmer, feeling a twinge of sadness in his heart. He knew the man had a tough exterior, but deep down, he must have been feeling the same emotions as everyone else. "I suppose that's true," he said, his voice gentle and understanding. "But there's more to life than just putting food on the table, isn't there?"

Lukas looked at the farmer with a mixture of pity and sadness. He couldn't help but feel sorry for the man, who seemed to have lost touch with his heart. For Lukas, life was more than just putting food on the table. It was about love, family, and the simple pleasures of life.

He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts before speaking. "I understand what you're saying," he said, his voice tinged with a note of melancholy. "But to me, life is about more than just survival. It's about finding joy and beauty in every moment."

The gruff farmer rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed. "Joy and beauty, huh?" he said with a sneer. "Well, good luck with that. I'll stick with what works."

Lukas simply nodded, not wanting to engage in an argument. He knew that some people were set in their ways, and no amount of reasoning could change their minds. But for Lukas, the beauty of life was all around him, in the fields, in his family, and in the simple pleasures that made life worth living.

The notion that life is a constant struggle and that our very existence is defined by the obstacles we face is a central tenet of the tragic vision of man. This view acknowledges the inherent limitations and imperfections of the human condition and suggests that we are constantly grappling with forces beyond our control, striving to make sense of the chaos and find meaning in the struggle. It is a sobering and humbling perspective, yet one that offers a profound sense of purpose to those who embrace it. For those who accept the challenge of the struggle, every obstacle becomes an opportunity for growth and self-discovery, and every setback a chance to rise again. It is a path of resilience, perseverance, and unyielding determination, where the very act of striving becomes its reward. This was Lukas' philosophy.

"I heard your sister is getting married soon, Lukas," said one of the farmers, a kind-hearted woman with a warm smile, snapping back to reality. "You must be so proud of her."

Lukas smiled, nodding his head. "Yes, I am," he said. "But it's also a bittersweet feeling, you know? She's been such an important part of my life, and I'll miss her when she's gone."

The gruff farmer snorted. "Women," he muttered. "Nothing but trouble, if you ask me."

The weathered farmer shook his head. "Don't listen to him, Lukas," he said. "Your sister is a wonderful young woman. And I'm sure she'll find happiness in her new life."

Lukas couldn't help but feel grateful for the kind words of his fellow farmers. He knew that his family was well-respected in the village, and he felt proud to be a part of it.

"It's not just my sister," he said. "My whole family means the world to me. They've always supported me, no matter what. And I'm grateful for that."

The kind-hearted woman smiled. "You're a lucky young man, Lukas," she said. "Not everyone has a family like yours."

Lukas nodded, feeling a sense of pride and gratitude swelling up inside him. He knew that his family was special, and he was grateful for every moment he got to spend with them.

As the sun rose above the horizon, the young man and the other farmers arrived at the fields, their boots sinking into the dewy grass. The air was crisp and fresh, carrying the scent of blooming flowers and ripe wheat. They set to work immediately, each man taking his designated row and starting to cut the wheat stalks with sickles.

Lukas' hands were calloused and rough, a testament to years of hard work in the fields. But they were also strong and capable, able to handle the sickle with ease as he sliced through the tall wheat stalks. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he worked tirelessly, his muscles straining with every swing of the sickle.

Throughout the day, they toiled in the fields, pausing only for a brief lunch break of bread and cheese. The sun beat down on them, warming their skin and causing their shirts to stick to their backs. But they continued, determined to finish their rows before the day was over.

As the sun began to set, most of the farmers packed up and headed home, but Lukas stayed behind to finish his row. His determination was unbreakable, and he worked tirelessly until the last ray of sunlight disappeared beyond the horizon.

As he walked home, his boots heavy with mud and his clothes stained with sweat and dirt, Lukas couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. He had accomplished what he had set out to do, and his hands bore witness to the hard work he had put in.

One of the farmers, a kind-hearted man with a warm smile, approached Lukas as he finished his row. "Lukas, it's getting dark. Come home with us and rest. You've worked hard enough today."

But Lukas shook his head, his eyes fixed on the remaining wheat stalks in his row. "I want to finish what I started," he said, his voice filled with determination. "I don't want to leave any wheat behind."

The farmer nodded, understanding the younger man's dedication to his work. "Well, if you're sure," he said, placing a hand on Lukas' shoulder. "But don't stay out here too long. You need to rest."

Lukas nodded, grateful for the man's concern. "I will," he said. "Thank you."

As the other farmers made their way home, Lukas continued to work, the sickle moving in a steady rhythm as he cut down the remaining stalks of wheat. His hands were sore and his muscles ached, but he pushed on, determined to finish the task at hand.

The sky turned from orange to pink to purple as the sun disappeared completely, but Lukas did not falter. The only sounds were the rustling of the wheat stalks and the occasional hoot of an owl in the distance.

As Lukas stepped back from his row, he couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment. The day had been long and grueling, but he had pushed through it with all his might. The sweat on his brow and the calluses on his hands were proof of his hard work, and he took a moment to savor the satisfaction that came with completing a job well done.

As the last rays of sunlight disappeared below the horizon, the world was plunged into darkness. But the full moon rose in the sky, casting a silver glow over the fields. The guiding light illuminated Lukas' path as he packed up his sickle and began the journey back to the village. The shadows of the wheat stalks loomed over him like sentinels, swaying gently in the cool night breeze.

Despite the fatigue in his bones, Lukas felt invigorated by the magic of the night. The full moon was a powerful presence, lending an air of mystery and enchantment to the world around him. He listened to the rustling of leaves and the distant call of a night bird, feeling a sense of peace settle over him.

As he walked, he couldn't help but look up at the moon, marveling at its beauty. The way its light danced over the fields, casting shadows that seemed to come alive with each passing moment. He felt a connection to the natural world, a sense of belonging that he had never experienced before.

For Lukas, the full moon was more than just a source of light in the darkness. It was a guiding force, a beacon of hope that led him back to his home and loved ones. And as he walked, he couldn't help but feel grateful for its presence in his life.

As Lukas made his way toward the village, an ominous feeling began to take hold of him. The air was thick with the unmistakable scent of smoke, and the pungent stench invaded his nostrils, causing his eyes to water. The night was shattered by the sound of piercing screams that echoed through the darkness, sending a shiver down his spine.

"What could be happening? What's this acrid smell? Why do I hear screams?" Lukas muttered to himself, his heart beginning to race with fear. "No..." - He whispered as he realized these smells and screams are coming from the direction of his village. He quickly ran up to the hill that totally cut the view of his beloved Pillichsdorf.

As he drew closer to the top, his unease grew stronger, and the acrid smell intensified. With each step, his mind conjured up images of chaos and destruction, and his heart felt heavy with dread.

Finally, he reached the top of a hill that overlooked the village. The view that greeted him was one of utter devastation. Flames leaped from building to building, reducing everything in their path to ash and rubble. Lukas felt his stomach lurch as he realized that the place where he had grown up was being destroyed before his very eyes.

"It can't be," he whispered, his face contorting with despair.

He stood there for a moment, taking in the distant scene before him, unable to move. The echoes of screams of the villagers filled his ears, their desperation and fear cutting through the night air like a knife. Lukas knew that he had to act, but he felt helpless and unsure of what to do.

With a heavy heart, he began to make his way down the hill as fast as humanly possible toward the burning village, determined to do whatever he could to help those in need.

The chirping of the crickets was replaced by the roar of flames and the crackling of burning wood. The once-quiet village was now a chaotic inferno, its buildings, and structures ablaze, casting flickering shadows all around.

The acrid smoke made it hard to see and breathe, and Lukas had to cover his nose and mouth with his sleeve to avoid choking on the fumes. He could feel the heat of the flames even before he reached the village, the intense warmth scorching his skin and making him sweat despite the cool night air.

As Lukas made his way through the tall grass, the screams grew louder and more piercing, filling his ears with their agonized wails. He could feel his skin crawl with a primal fear as he approached the village, his heart pounding in his chest with a sickening thud.

He pressed on, as the screams were getting louder and louder, more and more agonizing with each step he took, sending shivers down his spine. Lukas felt his heart pounding in his chest, and he couldn't shake off the feeling that something terrible had happened. His steps became slower and more hesitant, and he felt a lump form in his throat as he contemplated the horrors that awaited him in the village.

As he neared the end of the village, the scene before him was one of pure horror. The air was thick with the stench of death and decay, and the ground was slick with blood that glinted in the moonlight like a macabre mirror. Lukas' eyes widened in shock and disbelief as he took in the grisly scene before him.

Bodies were scattered everywhere, their limbs twisted and contorted in unnatural positions. Some were missing limbs entirely, while others had been slashed open from head to toe, their intestines spilling out in a grotesque tangle. Lukas could see the deep grooves of a blade on some of the bodies, evidence of a savage attack that had been inflicted with brutal force.

In some cases, the heads of the victims had been opened up like ripe melons, their brains exposed to the elements and their eyes staring blankly up at the sky. Lukas felt his stomach churn with revulsion as he saw the empty sockets where eyes had once been, the sight of the gouged-out flesh making him feel physically sick.

As he continued to survey the carnage, Lukas noticed that some of the bodies had even been torn apart, their limbs ripped off with such force that it seemed as though they had been attacked by some kind of wild animal.

The sheer brutality and savagery of the attack were almost too much for Lukas to bear. He felt a rising sense of panic and despair as he wondered what kind of monster could have inflicted such unspeakable horror upon these innocent people. The screams had fallen silent now, replaced by an eerie silence that was almost worse than the noise that had preceded it. Lukas could hear only the sound of his ragged breathing and the sickening squelch of his boots on the blood-soaked ground.

These were once his friends and neighbors, people he had known and loved for years. And now they lay before him, their lives snuffed out in the most savage of ways.

As Lukas fell to his knees, his eyes fixated on the gruesome scene before him. The village that had once been a vibrant hub of life was now reduced to a smoldering graveyard. The thatched roofs of houses were engulfed in flames, casting twisted shadows across the ground. The air was thick with the stench of smoke, the scent of burning flesh mixing with the acrid fumes.

The moon, once a symbol of serenity and beauty, now looked down upon the carnage with a cold and indifferent gaze. The orange light of the flames danced in the reflection of the dead eyes, creating a macabre display.

Lukas could feel his heart racing in his chest, a sickening feeling of dread and helplessness spreading through his body. He couldn't believe that something like this could happen, that their peaceful village could be torn apart in such a brutal and savage manner.

The flames crackled and roared around him, casting the shadows of the corpses on the ground like twisted puppets. Lukas could hear the sound of bones snapping and flesh sizzling just by looking at them, the sickening sound of death and destruction as he imagined how would happen.

Tears streamed down his face as he clutched at the dirt, his mind struggling to comprehend the scope of the tragedy. Who could have done this? Why had they unleashed such a heinous act of violence upon their community?

At that moment, Lukas felt a deep sense of despair and hopelessness. The beauty of the world had been stripped away, replaced by an unyielding reality of death and destruction. The moon hung in the sky, a reminder that even in the darkest moments, the world continued to turn.

Lukas' mind was in a haze as he stumbled through the ruins of the village, his thoughts consumed by the horror he had witnessed. The screams still echoed in his ears, haunting him with their terrible intensity. He tried to focus on something, anything, to distract himself from the images that kept flashing through his mind.

And then he remembered his family. His parents, his younger brother and sister, and his older sister who was supposed to be getting married today. A wave of panic washed over him as he thought of what might have happened to them.

He made his way towards their home, his heart pounding in his chest. As he approached, he saw that the door was hanging off its hinges, and the inside of the house was a scene of unspeakable horror.

His mother lay on the ground, her throat slit open. His father was next to him, his head completely smashed. His younger brother and sister were lying nearby, their bodies twisted and contorted in grotesque positions. And then he saw his older sister, her body mutilated beyond recognition.

The sight was too much for Lukas to bear. He felt a scream building up inside him, but it was choked off by a wave of nausea and despair.

"Why?" he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Why did this have to happen? What did they ever do to deserve this?"

As he sat there, lost in his grief and despair, Lukas felt a fierce anger well up within him. He would not let his family's deaths be in vain. He would find whoever did this and make them pay.

But even as he thought those words, Lukas knew that he was slipping further and further into madness. The horror of what he had witnessed was too much for him to bear. His mind felt like it was slipping away like he was going insane.

He stumbled through the ruins of the rooms of the family house, his eyes fixed on the ground as he tried to make sense of the senseless violence that had torn apart his world. The memories of his family's deaths played over and over in his mind, their twisted bodies and blank stares burned into his memory.

He couldn't shake off the feeling of hopelessness that had settled over him. The world had been turned upside down, and he didn't know how to make sense of it.

"Why did this happen?" he muttered to himself. "What kind of monster could do this to innocent people? It must be a dream, right?"

The sound of his voice was the only thing that kept him from completely losing his mind. He couldn't bear the silence, the emptiness that surrounded him. However he wants this to be a dream, but he knows it isn't.

He stumbled on almost falling on his knees again as he looked at all the blood squirting around the rooms, his mind consumed by grief and despair. He knew that he had to keep fighting, that he had to find a way to make sense of what had happened. But the weight of his family's deaths was crushing him, threatening to snuff out his resolve.

"I have to keep going," he whispered to himself, his voice barely audible. "Yeah, I have to find out what caused it," he said with fierce anger.

The young man froze as a menacing voice spoke from behind him. It was a deep, guttural voice that seemed to reverberate through the air. The voice was filled with a sense of amusement and malice, suggesting that the speaker took pleasure in causing fear and discomfort.

"Oh?" the voice said, drawing out the word and infusing it with a sense of menace. "Did I miss someone?"

The young man turned slowly, his heart pounding in his chest. He saw a figure standing behind him at the front door, his features lit him by the flames outside. The figure's presence was suffocating, and the young man felt a sense of dread washing over him.

The air around the figure seemed to vibrate with energy, and the young man knew that he was in the presence of someone dangerous. He braced himself for the worst, steeling his nerves for whatever was to come.

As the figure approached, his imposing figure demanded attention. He stood tall, their broad shoulders and muscular frame suggesting strength and power. Their brownish skin had a reddish hue in certain spots, almost like it was stained with dried blood, but it was unlikely that this blood belonged to any of the villagers. The sight was both fascinating and unsettling.

The most striking aspect of the figure's appearance was the black vein-like tattoos around his left eye. It gave him a menacing and intimidating look, hinting at the dark powers he possessed. The tattoos seemed to emphasize the figure's piercing gaze, making it clear that they were not to be trifled with.

The figure's clothing was simple yet practical, fitting for the era of the 1920s. He wore a sleeveless shirt with carefully crafted holes to accommodate the six iron spikes jutting out from his back, two on his shoulders and two on his hips on each side. Another four iron spikes jutted out of his muscular forearms and lower leg. The spikes on his back were lined up in parallel, creating two straight lines. He wore loose-fitting pants accompanied by some satchels that seemed to hold some vials and sturdy boots, suggesting that he was well-prepared for combat.

Despite his fearsome appearance, there was something strikingly elegant about the figure. His messy black hair, styled in intricate braids and knots, added a unique and exotic flair to his overall appearance. The figure moved with a certain grace and purpose, suggesting that he was a skilled fighter.

As the imposing figure drew closer, the air around them seemed to crackle with energy. The figure exuded a sense of danger and power that left Lukas feeling both fascinated and terrified. As Lukas looked into the figure's eyes, he saw strange characters etched into the depths of the irises, forming his pupils, almost like they were a part of the figure's very being.

In the right eye, Lukas saw the Arabic numerals "عشرچی - (Asharchi: 10th)" engraved in stark black against the deep yellow of the iris. The characters seemed to pulse with strange energy as if they were alive and part of the figure's very soul. In the other eye, Lukas saw the flowing script of "کامل آي"- (Kamil Ai: Full-Moon) etched into the darkness, each character seeming to writhe and dance with a life of its own.

Lukas couldn't help but stare in awe and disbelief. The characters seemed to be a part of the figure's pupils as if they were inscribed into the very depths of their eyes. The sight left Lukas feeling both fascinated and unnerved.

"W-Who are you!? N-No! What are you!?" He asked with some stutter yet brave tone and he braced himself for whatever was to come. His heart pounded in his chest as he faced the intimidating figure before him.

The figure took a step closer to Lukas, their eyes fixed on him with an intense gaze. They could sense his fear and it only made the demon's hunger grow stronger.

"I am many things, mainly known as a Demon, but I guess your kind rather call me... The Devil's Brood," the demonic figure said, their voice low and teasing. "But for now, let's just say I'm searching for something. Something that I think I've found in you."

Lukas's voice trembled with fear as he spoke. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Was this figure before him a demon, a creature from the depths of hell?

"Demon? D-Devil's Brood?" he stuttered, unable to hide his terror. "What... What are you talking about?"

The demon regarded him with a sly grin, their eyes gleaming with an otherworldly light. He seemed to be enjoying Lukas's fear, relishing in the power that it gave them over him.

The demon's grin widened as if Lukas's question had pleased them. "Yes, you heard that right!" he said, his voice low and dangerous. "It was I who destroyed that village. I am the one you search for! Killed everyone in it, including... I guess, your family. And I must say, it was quite enjoyable."

Lukas felt a surge of anger and grief at the demon's words. He couldn't believe that this creature, this demon, had taken everything from him so callously.

"You... you monster," he said, his voice shaking with rage. "How could you do something like that? How could you be so cruel? Why did you do that?"

The demon only laughed, a low, menacing sound that echoed through the darkness. "Cruel?" he questioned, tilting his head in his amusement. "Oh, my dear boy, you have no idea what true cruelty is. What I did to that village was nothing compared to what I could do to you."

The demon's eyes flickered with an insatiable hunger as he took a deep breath, savoring the scent of Lukas's blood. The air seemed to be infused with the tantalizing aroma of something rare and exotic that the demon had not encountered in a long time.

"And all this chaos happened..." he opened his arm as he was about the embrace this madness he caused. Then he slowly pointed toward him. "Because of you," he stated, his voice low and seductive. The demon's movements were almost hypnotic as if he were moving to the rhythm of some otherworldly beat.

Looks looked at him, trembling as his mind realizes what he said. He was the cause of this massacre, destruction?

"Because... of me?" His voice trembled in realization. He would've gladly given his life for his family's safety anytime. If he hadn't been so stubborn back in the fields, he might have saved everyone from this massacre. This alone made him guilty inside so much that it almost broke his soul.

The demon flexed its claws and bared his fangs, relishing in the power that Lukas's blood held over them.

"Yes, because of you!" He pointed towards him with his other hand now in a very teasing, yet stylish way. "You have no idea how long I've been searching for something like this," the demon continued, "Your blood, marechi, is so rare, so potent. The scent alone is enough to make my mouth water. And now, finally, I have found it. I don't know why I didn't find you sooner but it doesn't matter...at least I found you, even if there was some trouble."

He did not know what he talked about, but he did not dare to question him. The demon's movements became more frenzied as if he were unable to control their hunger any longer. Lukas could see the hunger in the demon's eyes, the way that he seemed to be consumed by the desire to taste his blood.

"I happened to be passing through this region when something so delicious hit my nostrils that I couldn't resist, so I followed the scent to this village, " the demon said, their voice dripping with drama. "And now, here you are, marechi. A mere mortal with such a delectable blood type. It's been so long since I've tasted something so divine." the demon exclaimed, his voice dripping with desire. "But I found nothing but pests. They were so insistent, so annoying. They asked who am I and why I have spikes pressed into my back and such. They didn't get that I wasn't interested in them. So I had to kill them all."

The demon's movements became even more frenzied as if he were reliving the thrill of the kill. "I tore them apart, limb from limb," he imitated with gestures how easily he turned them into shreds. "And then, I went to this house, where the scent was the strongest, to only find... Pests once more, who asked me almost the same. I tasted them. Just to be sure it was you."

Lukas felt a chill run down his spine at the demon's words. He could see the way that he was toying with him, taking pleasure in the fear that he was causing.

"But I guess I had really bad luck if I only found the searched pray the last," the demon said, their voice dripping with drama. "Your blood, it's not just rare, it's exquisite marechi. The scent alone is enough to make my kind mouth water from miles away."

The demon seemed to be in no rush. They continued to toy with him, relishing in the fear that they were causing. It was as if they were enjoying the power that they held over this mere mortal, this insignificant human who was no match for their demonic might.

The young man could feel the demon's hunger pulsing through the very air around him, and he knew that he was in grave danger. He had to find a way to escape, or he would be consumed by the demon's insatiable hunger. He could see the demon's pupils that resembled Arabic characters dilating as they focused on him, their gaze intense and unyielding.

"It's almost too good to be true, marechi" the demon said, their voice low and seductive. "But I assure you, it's all too real. Your blood is the most tempting thing I've ever encountered. I can barely control myself."

The demon's eyes seemed to glow with an otherworldly light as they focused on Lukas once more. It was as if he were seeing right through him, into the very depths of his soul.

Lukas felt his heart race in his chest as he realized the danger he was in. He knew that he was no match for this demon, and the monster seemed to know it too. No, the demon took that as a postulate.

The demon could see the terror in Lukas's eyes and it only made them more excited. "Mmm, you're so powerless," he whispered, his voice dripping with a tease. "It's almost too easy, just like killing everyone in this house!" the demon screamed with otherwordly pleasure as he laughed at him in a hysterical tone.

Lukas felt a surge of anger rise within him as he heard the demon's taunts. He thought of his loved ones, of all the innocent lives that had been taken by this monster. And he knew that he had to fight, even if it meant facing certain death.

With a fierce determination, Lukas lunged toward the demon, his fist clenched tightly. But the demon was too quick, and with a flick of its wrist, it sent Lukas crashing to the ground, his hand broken in an instant.

As Lukas writhed in pain, the demon's laughter echoed through the room. "Did you really think you could lay your fingers on me? Did I even permit you to stand up?" he sneered. "You're nothing but a weakling, marechi."

But Lukas refused to back down. He knew that he had to keep fighting, no matter how hopeless the situation seemed. And so he struggled to his feet, his broken hand dangling uselessly at his side.

He charged toward the demon again, fueled by a fierce determination to avenge his loved ones. But once again, the demon was too quick, and Lukas found himself sprawled on the ground, his body wracked with pain.

And that's when he heard it. The demon's mocking laughter as he recounted the deaths of Lukas's loved ones, reveling in the terror that he had caused.

Lukas felt a rage, unlike anything he had ever experienced before. He closed his eyes and focused all his energy into his remaining hand, summoning every ounce of strength that he had left.

And with a sudden burst of energy, Lukas launched himself towards the demon once more, his hand outstretched. For a moment, it seemed as though he might land a blow as the demon continued to laugh not even bothering to look in his direction. However, as his fist was about to hit his face, the demon grabbed his forearm and looked at him. His attitude completely changed. He looked at him with utter disappointment and piercing anger that completely broke Lukas' determination.

"Marechi," the demon whispered menacingly as he began to increase the strength in his grip. "Didn't I tell you?" With a single swift motion, Lukas's outstretched hand was twisted, breaking it in an instant. "You're a weakling, do not act like you're in my league, it's not only pathetic but also moronic," the demon released his hand with utter disgust. Lukas trembled, seeing his twisted hand.

He screamed in agony, his body wracked with pain. He now lay broken and defeated on the ground, he knew that he had given everything he had in the fight against evil... and nothing has changed.

Lukas tried to steady himself, but the demon's presence was overwhelming. He knew that he had to do something, but he felt powerless in the face of the demon's hunger.

The demon continued to tease Lukas, relishing in his fear. "Don't be afraid," he said, their voice low and seductive.

Lukas felt a chill run down his spine once more at the demon's words as he took another step towards him.

"You should be honored," the demon said, their voice low and dangerous. "Honored that I have taken an interest in you. You should be grateful for the opportunity to be consumed by a demon of my caliber, the 10th Full-Moon. It's not every day that a mortal like you gets to experience something so... divine, maybe it would be better if I call it 'hellish' for you."

Lukas trembled as the autumn leaves on a windy day as he stared into the demon's glowing yellow eyes. However, as the demon looked at Lukas he realized something, something more tempting than consuming him at the moment.

The demon seemed to sense his fear and chuckled softly. "You know what, marechi, I've changed my mind, " the demon said. "While your blood may be rare and tempting, I do not take pleasure in consuming weaklings or those who I accidentally break physically. It would be a waste of such a fine specimen if I devoured you now, at your current state. I would personally rip my head off if I would eat you right now and miss out on how would you taste at your fullest. Heal those broken bones, have a nice bath, take on your finest clothes and wait for me to devour you!"

The Demon let out a loud laugh that echoed through the lonely burning village.

He had been given a reprieve, but it was only temporary. Thanks to the demon's stupidity he might grow stronger and more powerful by the time he would come back for him. Or at least, Lukas thought that naively.

The demon's eyes glowed brighter as it leaned closer to Lukas. "Remember this, marechi," it said with a smirk on his face, "you are marked by your blood... You won't escape from me, nor other demons if they really wish to devour you. Now, be safe till we meet. Until then, farewell-"

"Hymn of The Stars - First Verse: Shining Milkyway!" - The window shattered as a middle-aged voice ripped through the air.

As the demon turned to face the source of the voice, it saw a figure rushing towards him confidently through the shattered window. As the demon saw the blade coming towards him, a look of surprise flashed across his face.

"Blood Demon Art: Sanguine Shell!" With lightning-fast reflexes, He softly said the incantation with some reference of being surprised under his breath, causing blood to gush out from his forearm where his spikes were located. The crimson fluid flowed out of his body in a steady stream, forming a shell of blood around his arm.

As the blade approached, the demon's arm moved with blinding speed, and the sharp edge made contact, as he caught it with the hardened shell of dried blood. The sound of metal hitting the metal-hard blood filled the air as the blade was stopped dead in its tracks.

The demon's arm trembled with the force of the impact, but the Sanguine Shell held strong, protecting him from harm. The dried blood formed a formidable barrier, almost as strong as steel, and the demon grinned with satisfaction as he saw the surprised look on his opponent's face.

The figure was adorned in a unique and elaborate costume that consisted of several pieces, each serving a specific purpose.

Starting from the top, the figure wore a large, furry cloak made of sheepskin or other animal hide. The cloak was adorned with intricate stitching and embroidery, depicting various demonic and pagan symbols and patterns. Underneath the cloak, the figure wore a leather vest with metal plates and studs, offering added protection against demon attacks.

Moving down, the figure's legs were covered with pants made of thick, durable material such as leather or wool. The pants were tucked into tall boots with metal buckles, laces, and studs, providing extra protection and support during battles.

The figure's hands were covered with gloves made of sturdy leather, with metal studs and plates on the back for added protection. These gloves helped the figure to grip and wield their weapons with ease and precision.

But the most striking part of the figure's costume was their mask, made of willow wood. The mask was intricately carved to depict a fearsome demonic face, with sharp fangs, fearsome face and care. The mask was painted with vivid red colors, but its weird stench gave another impression of what was used to color this mask, giving the impression that the figure was an unstoppable force of darkness.

In this costume, the figure looked like a true warrior, a demon, who was ready to face another one that dared to cross his path.

The demon's sly tone dripped with arrogance and a hint of amusement. "So, a bušara has decided to show up, how annoying," he stated, his voice laced with annoyance.

The bušara remained unfazed by the demon's taunts. "Not as annoying as running back and forth to catch you, 10th Full-Moon Brood, Toghzan," he replied calmly.

The demon's eyes widened in surprise. "Oh? Sorry then," he said, his voice laced with a hint of mock respect. "You must be more than ordinary to know my name. I must apologize." Despite his words, his tone was still laced with arrogance and a hint of superiority.

Lukas struggled to process the enormity of the situation. The devastation was all around him, and he felt like he was living in a nightmare. The two beings standing before him were like nothing he had ever seen before. The other demon's, the bušara's crimson mask, glinted in the firelight, and his horned head towered above Lukas. The other demon radiated immense power that never before, readying himself for battle.