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Revenge In Grins

In a dystopian world divided by class and power, where justice is a facade and truth is manipulated, Daemon Corvus. Falsely accused of a heinous crime he did not commit, Daemon and his family face public condemnation and are executed in a gruesome spectacle that scars the world's memory. But death is not the end for Daemon, as he awakens two years later with an unexpected and ominous companion of a Unknown System, offering him the power to exact vengeance on those who wronged him. -The God of Death has taken interest in your life- "Smile for me, darling, as I paint the canvas of your demise with the blood of your sins. Your screams will be my music, and your pain, my masterpiece. So, smile, for in your final moments, you'll know true artistry." Daemon's grin widened with sinister delight.

Danger_God · Thành thị
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54 Chs

Chapter-37 Butcher

While Daemon was watching the auction, Jason was handling the rewards for the captives brought in money, more equipment and weaponry, and new members for the hideout. As the auction ended, Daemon headed towards Jason, but the Broker reminded him about the blood bankers.

When he arrived at the back of the auction house, he saw no one from his hideout, nor the SUV. Daemon became extremely curious where could everyone be? They should have been dealing with the captives, and they knew he was still here.

Daemon decided to ask around before jumping to conclusions. After a while, he still hadn't seen or heard of them until Carlos stopped him. Carlos explained that he saw Jason in an alleyway but didn't see him again after a while. Other cartel members were also asking where Jason went, as they couldn't find him either, they all decided to go back to the hideout to look for him.

So Daemon decided to head to the hideout after a while when he did arrived he didn't see Jason. He immediately started questioning everyone about what had happened. Strangely, they all said they didn't know where he was until one member explained what he saw.

The member explained that while he and a group were going out for a smoke, they saw a white van pull up in a dark alleyway. Swiftly, Jason was grabbed and pulled inside. When Daemon questioned why he didn't report it, the member said he was too scared and unsure who got kidnapped, Daemon was dumbfounded why wouldn't he report it after he calm down.

Daemon reprimanded him for not reporting a kidnapping on cartel territory.

Daemon had a revelation as the man described the van's logo. "So, The Butcher took Jason, huh? Well, it was expected after that stunt he pulled sneaking into his shop," Daemon thought.

Now slowly the absence of Jason gnawed at him it was vulnerability in his plans. If The Butcher has taken him, I'm at risk of losing my foothold in the cartel.

The Butcher represents a different breed of adversary. To underestimate him was the fatal mistake. which costed Jason.

With the information about The Butcher's location, Daemon decided he needed to save Jason before he could continue with his plans. He needed Jason to handle things at the hideout.

When he arrived it was already night so there was barely anyone out. "So this is The Butcher's shop... it looks quite old-fashioned, but it's the only one in town, so I'm sure it attracts a lot of customers," Daemon muttered.

Daemon managed to break the door handle easily with his strength and headed into the shop, stepping into the shop, he was instantly enveloped in a murky gloom, the scent of coppery blood lingering heavy in the air.

Then he headed down a hatch where around him, the room was dimly lit, the air thick with the metallic scent of blood, stronger that upstairs as, hooks hung from the ceiling, some with carcasses swaying gently. In the corner, Jason was tied to a table struggling against his bonds.

In the dimly lit room, Daemon spotted another man he assumed to be The Butcher. He stood at a towering 6'5", his muscular build exuding raw power. His face was mostly obscured by a gruesome, hand-crafted mask made from the skin of his victims, stitched together with coarse black thread, the mask had empty eye sockets that revealed his piercing, bloodshot eyes and a twisted grin carved into it, permanently fixed in a sinister smile.

He wore a butcher's apron, stained with blood and other unidentifiable fluids, over a heavy, dark leather coat. Underneath, he wore simple, dark clothing that allowed for ease of movement, his large, calloused hands were often covered in blood and bits of flesh. He wore gloves made from the skin of his victims when performing his gruesome tasks, which he removed only to savor the sensation of skinning his prey.

His brutality is matched only by his cunning. Jason's capture... a strategic move, no doubt. But why? What game is being played here, beneath the surface of blood and bone?

'So this is The Butcher. He certainly earns the name... So many victims. His presence reeks of decay and blood,' Daemon thought. 'I'll stay back and observe for a bit.'

The Butcher earned his fearsome nickname not just through his grisly acts of skinning his victims, but also due to a macabre signature he leaving behind a piece of each victim's body, which his signature could vary, from a particular body part like an ear or a finger meticulously displayed in a grotesque manner, arrangements depending on his mood or the significance he assigns to each victim.

Daemon listened as The Butcher spoke to Jason, his voice deep and gravelly, with a sadistic undertone it sounded like he took in his work. "You thought you could sneak into my domain, Jason? Did you really think I wouldn't notice?" he said, then continued. "I have cameras all around."

The sound of The Butcher's heavy boots on the ground sent chills down Jason's spine.

Jason tried to sound braver than he felt. "I was looking for answers. You skinned a vampire. If it was you and I needed to know why."

The Butcher chuckled darkly while picking up a gleaming knife. "Why? Because I enjoy it. The thrill of the hunt, the artistry of the kill. And now, I get to add you to my collection."

Jason struggled harder, eyes wide with fear. "You're insane. You know I'm part of the Iron Chain Cartel. You won't get away with this!" he shouted.

The Butcher stopped for a second before leaning in close, whispering, "Oh, but I already have. No one knows you're here. No one will miss you. And soon, you'll just be another masterpiece in my gallery."

Jason's voice took on a tone of desperation. "You're a monster. What do you get out of this? What sick pleasure do you find in skinning people?" said.

The Butcher smiled, a twisted gleam in his eye. "It's not just about the pleasure, Jason. It's about control. Dominance. When I skin them, I take their power, their essence. It's... exhilarating."

Jason stopped struggling for a couple of seconds before gritting his teeth and saying defiantly, "You're just a coward hiding behind your butchery. You can't face your own demons, so you create new ones."

The Butcher snarled, gripping Jason's chin roughly. "You think you understand me? You know nothing of my demons. You're just another piece of meat, another project."

"Demons, huh?" Daemon thought. "We all have some, worse than others. It's just that some are so small that humans never act on them."

Jason met The Butcher's gaze, refusing to back down. "And what happens when someone stronger comes along? Someone who won't be your next victim?"

The Butcher knew the complexities of dealing with vampires all too well. Once, he had encountered a vampire informant named Sara , who traded secrets in exchange for protection from rival factions. Sara allure was undeniable, her beauty ethereal yet tinged with an otherworldly danger. Despite her alluring charm, The Butcher remained wary, knowing that beneath her facade lay a predator keen on survival at any cost. 

The Butcher laughed cruelly. "Let them come. I've faced many, and I've always come out on top. No one can match my skill, my precision. Not even the vampires."

Jason spoke with a hint of defiance. "You're wrong. You have no idea the terror the blood bankers will bring to you. Maybe not today, but your reign of terror will end." he said firmly.

The Butcher, someone who rarely spoke, often taunted his victims or described in chilling detail what he was about to do. He leaned in closer, his voice a deadly whisper. "Brave words for a man about to be flayed alive. But don't worry, I'll make it quick... Maybe."

As The Butcher was about to start cutting into Jason's left hand, Daemon knew he had to act quickly to save him.

Daemon decided he'd seen and heard enough. He shouted, "Step away from him, Butcher."

"Mortis!" Jason said excitedly.

The Butcher grinned wickedly, turning to face Daemon. "Well, well. Another lamb to the slaughter. What makes you think you can stop me?"

"I don't think. I know," Daemon replied coldly, moving closer and pushing away the hooked carcasses.

The Butcher lunged at Daemon, swinging his knife with deadly precision. Daemon dodged with ease. The Butcher swung again, but Daemon used one of the hanging carcasses to block the knife. The Butcher snarled in frustration and slashed wildly.

Daemon ducked under a wide slash, delivering a swift kick to the Butcher's ribs, making him stagger. The Butcher recovered quickly, his face twisted in rage. He charged at Daemon, swinging the knife in a brutal arc. Daemon sidestepped, grabbed a meat hook from the ceiling, and swung it at the Butcher, who barely managed to duck.

"You're quick, but I've got strength on my side!" the Butcher growled, breathing heavily.

Despite his imposing physique, The Butcher's agility weaken over the years, he was also once known for his cat-like reflexes and swift maneuvers in the shadows, he now moved with slowness. Years of successful abductions and the wealth accrued from his grisly trade had afforded him a life of luxury and indulgence. No longer needing to evade pursuit or hide from authorities, he had grown complacent in his routines, allowing his physical prowess to diminish.

Daemon grabbed another hanging carcass, using it to block a vicious downward strike from the Butcher. He pushed the carcass forward, smashing it into the Butcher's face, disorienting him. Daemon followed up with a series of rapid punches, each one landing with precision and force.

"Damn you!" the Butcher shouted, stumbling back and shaking his head.

In a desperate move, the Butcher managed to land a glancing blow on Daemon's arm with the knife, but it barely scratched the surface. Daemon didn't even flinch. Instead, he grabbed the Butcher's arm, twisted it painfully, and disarmed him, sending the knife clattering to the ground.

"You're finished," Daemon said, his voice deadly calm and low.

With a swift, brutal motion, Daemon slammed the Butcher into the wall, using the hooks and chains to pin him in place. The Butcher struggled, but Daemon's grip was ironclad. He delivered a final, devastating punch to the Butcher's jaw, knocking him out cold.

"Pathetic," Daemon muttered, standing over the unconscious Butcher, breathing steadily.

Daemon then turned to Jason, swiftly cutting his bonds and helping him to his feet.

"You saved me... Why didn't you kill him?" Jason asked, breathing heavily and grateful.

"Because he's not worth it. I have bigger problems to handle," Daemon said coldly, carrying Jason out.

Outside the Butcher's shop, Daemon stopped by his SUV. "You go back to the hideout. I have something to do. Just don't get kidnapped by any of your enemies again," he said.

Jason watched Daemon's back. "Where are you going?" he asked.

But Daemon remained quiet and kept walking, disappearing into the night.