They are coming.

It was a tempestuous night, torrential rain pouring down as if intent on drowning the entire world, while thunderbolts danced across the sky, casting ethereal flashes of light that illuminated the bleak surroundings, unveiling a scene of unspeakable horror, laying it bare for all to see.

But amidst such chaos, a lone figure, battered and broken, raised his head from the sodden earth. He clawed his way up from the muddy ground, with a grim realization, he awakened to the absence of sight on his right side, while his left eye was sealed shut by a thick crust of blood. Summoning all his strength, he struggled to pry open his remaining eye, grappling with the blurred semblance of his surroundings.

His breaths came in labored gasps, and his numb body offered no aid. And it was then that a sudden realization struck him like a blow - He couldn't move his hand or legs; all his limbs were indeed... gone, mercilessly ripped away, leaving him to bleed in agony.

He knew he didn't have much time left, but that wasn't the reason for his tearful face; rather, it was the harrowing revelation that unfolded before his very eyes.

The dark clouds were crying out in anguish, but it wasn't the water that drenched the ground; instead, a macabre river of crimson flowed through the terrain. Puddles overflowed, giving rise to meandering streams of red winding their way through the landscape, converging together with chilling purpose.

In the grim aftermath, the man found himself encircled by a tableau of death and devastation. He shuddered uncontrollably as he surveyed the surroundings with a rising sense of dread. The mutilated forms of his comrades lay strewn across the landscape, their once-human features rendered unrecognizable, scattered like discarded playthings. The sight of crushed flesh and mashed limbs was overwhelming as the air seemed to be filled with the anguished cries of the dead.

All that remained was... flesh and blood.

Despite the overwhelming pain and the impending specter of death, his eyes were drawn to the horrifying scene. The landscape, once serene and vibrant, was now painted a sinister hue - a canvas of suffering and death.

The enormity of the atrocity became clear to his mind- it appeared as if a massive army had descended upon the scene to unfold this massacre, but it couldn't be more further from the truth, as the reality was even more nightmarish.

This carnage, this bloodbath had been wrought by a single entity - a monstrous being in human form, who didn't even give them a chance to see its face. Depending like a god of shambles. Whose cruelty seems to surpass any realm of comprehension.

This was a squad of elite mages, numbering over a hundred. They were stationed here to watch over the surrounding, awaiting orders from their revered leader - The most powerful mage among them. But tragedy struck in his absence, leaving them defenseless against the monstrous force that ravaged them, mowing of the grass.

"He will surely take down that monster, When he returns," the fallen man muttered to himself in self-assurance.

Flickers of hope clung to the fallen man's fading consciousness - the belief that their leader would return to avenge his fallen comrades. At thought of his leader, a little amount of relief washed over him, burdened by helplessness, he inevitably closed his eyes, bracing for the finality of death.

'Maybe he already did,' he thought as his consciousness drifted towards eternal sleep.

"HAHAHAHA," but before his life's embers dwindles and vanquished completely, the sound of sinister laughter pierced through the rain-soaked night like a thin slash of a blade. It was a chilling laugh, echoing down to the darkest recesses of his soul, resounding akin to baleful bell tolling in hell.

Summoning every ounce of courage left within him, the fallen warrior turned towards the source of the wicked laughter. Under the dome of dark clouds that refused to let pass even a single ray of moonlight, it was too dark to see.

The fallen warrior, though ordinary in his human form, possessed extraordinary resolve and willpower. With just a flicker of thought, a magical energy called mana, augmented his eyes and his eyes narrowed in focus. But amidst the enveloping darkness and heavy rain, even his mana-infused eye struggled to discern the blurry view into a mere shadowed figure.

But even that was enough to make him shiver. The sight that met his eyes was a dizzying vision of terror. An immense creature with four imposing horns adorned its head - two arching upward from each temple, while the other two curved menacingly towards its forehead, but one of them appeared to be broken from its tip.

Within a vast, gaping crater. In the heart of an immense and unfathomable chasm, the titanic entity loomed, its malevolence palpable as it clutched a hapless figure by the throat with a monstrous, iron grip. The very tableau exuded an aura of sheer dread, a vision more befitting an epic nightmare than reality.

Suddenly, The horned monstrosity turned its gaze towards the left, where the void of his missing hand loomed ominously.

"Hihihi... You amuse me quite well, human," it chuckled, its voice a twisted melody of malice before it took a chilling tone, "But you shouldn't have touched my horns."

***Crack***

The sickening sound of bones snapping echoed through the air, cutting through the relentless downpour like a blade through flesh, reverberating in the surroundings despite the cacophony of rain. The fallen man wondered if his mind was playing tricks, to hear it so clearly, or perhaps his sanity had been undone already by the horrors that surrounded him.

The rhythm of the rain returned to his ear again, but the fallen man remained fixed, his eyes locked in disbelief as he couldn't help but shudder at the reality that faced him. Sudden sense of hopelessness washed over him as he had finally recognized the fallen figure within the monstrous grasp.

It was the very commander of their squad he was waiting for, The illustrious Black Seat of the seven Thrones, one of the empire's mightiest mages.

Amidst the torrents of rain and the wails of the fallen, the scene grew even more surreal. They had crossed the path with an entity whose malevolence defied comprehension. Yet, in the face of this monstrous adversary, staring at his lifeless commander, he found an ember of resilience within him. Even In the clutches of panic, the fallen man acted immediately and clenched his jaw so hard that one of his teeth was shattered, releasing a hidden scroll that materialized miraculously.

He grabbed the runic scroll with his mouth, channeling his remaining mana into the runes of the scroll, in that fleeting moment of connection, he poured all his harrowing memories as a message, wanting to alert the other thrones of the empire. Yet, his depleted mana reserves prevented him from activating the emergency channel for swift communication.

Desperation surged within him, but he mustered all his remaining strength to send the message as quickly as possible. But as he strained his dying self, a chilling dread enveloped him like a curling snake, freezing him still in fear.

His body stiffened, even his wounded blood vessels contracted, halting the bleeding, in response to the overwhelming terror that had gripped him.

Summoning every ounce of courage, he mustered the strength to turn his head back, towards the source of the laughter again. In that instant, a flash of thunder illuminated the surroundings once more, revealing a malevolent visage - a face concealed in shadow, save for a wicked smile adorned with sharp, menacing teeth.

It was as though the creature was relishing the terror it had inflicted, finding twisted joy in its monstrous acts.

In the next moment, in a swift, merciless motion, the fallen man was struck on the head, his skull crushed like the remnants of shattered hope. As his consciousness faded, his head became but a mangled chunk of flesh, mirroring the fate he had glimpsed earlier among his comrades.

The monstrous entity crouched down, eyes glinting with malevolent glee, now fixed on the blood-stained scroll. He picked it up from the ground. With the same devilish smile, he infused the scroll with his own memories, a twisted memento of the sinister spectacle he had unfolded.

The creature then activated the scroll, unleashing its dark message before carelessly flinging it back towards the blood-soaked ground. The scroll landed amidst the carnage, its fading glyphs displaying only one haunting sentence before it vanished entirely.

"They are coming..."