[b]DAY 11: KIMENE – ALONE AND AFRAID[/b]

”Amaru…?”

Kimene could have sworn that his partner had been with him, but now Amaru was nowhere to be seen. This made him extremely anxious and he kept glancing around his surroundings, hoping to catch a glimpse of his partner. But there was nothing but dark walls and an eerie silence. Desperately Kimene turned around and tried to look for Amaru from the direction they had come from, and still, there was no sign of him. But what else could he do but look for him?

They had come here originally because they had heard of a haunted manor up in the mountain. The residents of the nearby town had known about its existence for ages. It was told that some conqueror from another region just assaulted the place and killed everybody. However, one powerful priestess managed to place a curse with her final breath, and doomed everybody in the manor to become trapped and sealed away. If the intruders wanted to have the manor so badly, then so be it. The conqueror and his men would now wander in the ruined manor's hallways, reliving the moments of the past until the moment when they died by the curse. Centuries had passed and not many had dared to step inside the manor, but of course there had been a few brave ones.

Kimene and Amaru had dealt with haunted places before, so this wasn't anything unusual for them. Kimene was a folklorist who wanted to document all kinds of stories around the world and Amaru had traveled by his side, being an expert with the spirit realm and all matters regarding spirits. Checking out this fabled manor had seemed like an ordinary thing to do and so they had entered the haunted building without any doubt. They had no idea what would happen within those walls.

“Amaru!” Kimene cried out loud, starting to get increasingly afraid. Where did Amaru go and why wasn't he answering?

Nervously Kimene kept looking around. The dark and ruined walls around him felt threatening, they didn't want him there. He had casted a small orb of light to help him see around, but the atmosphere of the manor was so oppressive that it seemed to hinder the orb's light, like if the darkness was choking it. Shadows were moving around, slithering from corner to corner, just to slip away as soon as Kimene's eyes would focus on them. And sinister wind was howling through the broken building – or were those noises moans of the dead? Kimene wasn't sure. Minute by minute he started to feel more alone and more afraid and he began to quicken his pace; he wanted to find Amaru as soon as possible and leave this place.

What if something bad had happened to him? What if he was seriously injured? The thought frightened Kimene. He was getting more desperate and was practically running through the hallways and he didn't like the fact that he was hearing voices other than the clattering of his hooves against the wooden floor. He could hear whispers, screams, roaring. The spirits of the manor had noticed his presence – and they didn't like it, they were envious of his beating heart and freedom to go wherever he wanted. Kimene was more afraid than ever before and he felt like he would become one of the spirits bound to this manor as well if he didn't find Amaru soon.

Why did it feel like he was just running through the same corridors over and over again? He stopped for a second, took a couple of deep breaths and looked around. He didn't recognize his surroundings at all, even though he had been sure that he had just followed the same way back. This place was messing with his mind and doing an excellent work at it, too. Kimene began to move again, this time a little bit more calmly and tried to do a better job at keeping an eye on his environment.

There just had to be a way out, there had to be.

He started to see faint figures around him, spirits of the past that had been wandering these parts for too long already, so much that their forms were so transparent that it was hard to observe them. Kimene could feel the temperature dropping and how the hands of ghosts were trying to cling onto him, yearning for his warmth. He began to move a little faster again, since it didn't feel comfortable at all when spirits would try to take a hold of you.

But then he suddenly stopped.

He could see a dreadful figure in front of him. It was a spirit, but more corporeal than the others. This entity was dressed in ancient armor, stained by blood, and had a ferocious mask on its face and in one hand it was holding a bloody sword. Kimene could only stare at it nervously – until it suddenly vanished. Kimene kept looking around him to see if the spirit had appeared somewhere else near him, but it didn't seem to be the case. He was creeped out by this, and he tried to get going again.

But he couldn't move. All of a sudden he was frozen, feeling like a statue. He couldn't move a muscle, which made him greatly distressed. Coldness filled his body, it felt like something icy had grasped his heart. Then he could hear chanting right by his ear, it was a very low voice.

And next his joints cracked horribly as his limbs started to bend into unnatural positions. It was like somebody was playing with a marionette, but not doing it very well. Then his eyes started to bleed until the light of life died out from them, being replaced by something wicked. A futile cry for help died on his lips. His body cracked some more before the puppeteer had gained full control of him, though his movements were still a bit stiff.

The conqueror had found a host. It was time to revive his reign.



[b]DAY 12: THE ASSASSIN – GORGEOUS BUT FATAL[/b]

For so many days the man had wandered in a strange land. He had just been out on a morning walk when a sudden thick mist had risen. It felt like forever to get through it, but when he did, he found himself from a foreign place, although he was sure he had been walking across the familiar landscape. Everything looked so grey and once he found some kind of proof of human life, he still hadn't encountered any living beings. He had just found a little village, but it seemed completely abandoned. He could only wonder what had happened and just continued his travel in this weird land.

For a while it looked like that there was no day or night as perpetual greyness had dominated the sky for so long. But finally, after a time that felt like a few days, the skies were cleared and the man could feel sunshine on his face at last. But it wasn't bringing any warmth, it was just desolate and felt like it had given up on life. It was just like a bright corpse nailed to the sky. And when the day would end, the moon didn't feel much better. It was hostile and induced madness and was shining brightly just so it could see blood spilled. The man hadn't yet seen living things during his time in this region, but he had a feeling haunting him that he was constantly in danger. Paranoia filled his head and he was afraid of every movement he saw. He couldn't sleep well because of this and he also hadn't found anything to eat so now he had starvation accompanying him as well.

His trip to this land was putting a strain on his sanity. He lost track of time and he could feel something having eyes on him, but couldn't see what. Hunger was making him weak, but luckily he had found water, even though it had tasted bad. But at least he wouldn't die of dehydration. All of this had started to take a toll on his mind and he started to feel like a madman. But if he was able to recognize this, was he truly mad? Maybe not quite yet, but who knows, maybe that would be the case soon.

When it was once again getting dark, the man had managed to wander to another seemingly abandoned settlement. Or so he thought at first, but then he could hear how a door was slammed shut. It startled him and he was glancing all around him, but couldn't see anyone. But this made him wary and he moved forward vigilantly. The shadows were growing darker and a faint breeze whispered threats into his ears. Something didn't want him here and he would gladly go away.

But then he noticed someone standing by a bridge. This was the first time he had seen somebody so he stopped and stayed away from that person while observing them from afar. It looked like a woman. But looks can be deceiving, especially to someone whose mind isn't doing great. The figure he was watching at that moment was actually a man, his face more gorgeous than that of the finest ladies. He had a beautiful black dress and held a feathery fan in his hand as he was trying to look as seductive as he could. He had a pretty haircut and this short black hair was shining in the light of the setting sun. Looking like this was just his way of tricking men, for he was The Assassin.

And it was working. His beauty had captivated the man who was now walking slowly closer to The Assassin. He was getting infatuated by his gorgeous looks and was soon standing before the man in a dress. Carefully he reached with his hand to caress The Assassin's face, he was the most beautiful person he had ever seen. And The Assassin smiled at him oh so gently and enchantingly. They looked each other into the eyes as if there was some sort of chemistry between them.

But oh, how wrong that was.

With one swift motion that lasted just a blink of an eye, The Assassin had revealed one of his hidden blades that he had on his wrist and slit open the man's throat. He had a completely astonished look on his face and he touched his throat, blood staining his fingertips and he looked at them, trying to process the situation. He gurgled as blood started to come out of his mouth, silencing any words he had. He probably thought that this was it, the end of his life. But what he hadn't yet learned: no one can die in this place.

He fell to the bridge, floundering on his back as he was rapidly losing blood, but the sweet release of death wouldn't come. There was just agony. The Assassin observed his suffering for a short moment before he decided to walk away.

It was just one more victim to his list.



[b]DAY 13: SIN VULPES – FIRST KILL[/b]

Thunder was roaring loudly and heavy rain was soaking the streets. Cold winds were blowing harshly. The awful weather was keeping the people out of the streets of Olden Shadow Town – most of them anyway. Eventually the constant rainfall had started to flood the streets and it seemed that there wouldn't be relief for it for a while. Everything looked so grey and miserable and the light of the street lamps felt feeble somehow, especially when compared to the occasional lightning strikes that lit the whole sky for a blink of an eye. The storm was raging horribly and the townsfolk could only wait for it to pass, because who are they to challenge nature's might?

But there was one man who defied the storm. Sin Vulpes was out in the tormenting rain and he was on a hunt. Somebody had paid the blood money so someone else's life would end. Sin Vulpes could feel the thrill, for this was the first time he would track down a target in order to eliminate them. It didn't matter that the weather was against him, because he would carry out his mission even if the sky itself would fall down. He was a beast and hunting down the prey was something the beasts were excellent at.

His target was known to hang around one of the worst bars in the town, around the border. Mostly he was doing his shady business there, because he was a drug dealer. But lately he had been pocketing too much money for himself and also stolen some of the goods he had been given by the cartel so he could sell them. Naturally, the cartel wasn't pleased by this behavior at all and so they had sent Sin Vulpes after him. Such useless and greedy wretches had to be disposed of.

Sin Vulpes scampered around the remote alleys as the water kept falling down. It didn't take him much time to find the specific bar in question where he would look for his target. A broken neon sign was crackling, there were huge scratch marks at the entrance and the windows were broken a little bit. It really looked like crap, no wonder that a rat like his target would spend time in this shithole. Sin Vulpes felt excitement as he walked to the door and entered the building.

It was dim inside, it was so poorly illuminated. A cloud of smoke was lingering in the air as most of the people sitting there at that moment were smoking. Intoxicated people were chattering or arguing loudly and nobody seemed to notice how a new face had appeared. Sin Vulpes looked around, searching for his target. And he was in luck: he spotted the man, a little chubby tattooed guy, lounging by the counter, having a conversation with some other man. Sin Vulpes walked through the bar towards the man he had been seeking. He revealed his gun and once he was standing right behind his target, he pressed the barrel of his gun at the man's neck and commanded: “Turn around.”

The man had flinched as soon as he felt the cold steel against his skin. He did as was told and turned to face Sin Vulpes. His conversation partner slipped away, clearly not wanting to take any part in this.

“W-who are you?” the man asked and eyed the gun fearfully. “What do you want?”

“Come outside”, Sin Vulpes urged. “Let's not make a mess here.”

The man started to slowly and very nervously walk to the door, Sin Vulpes following right behind, still pointing his gun at his target. Once they were outside and in the rain, Sin Vulpes forced the man to walk to one of the alleys and then fall on his knees while holding his hands in the air.

“W-why are you doing this?” the man almost shrieked.

“Big Walter sent me”, Sin Vulpes replied. “He's done with your shit.”

A scream that resembled a pig's squeal came out of the man's mouth. “Oh, no, no, tell Wally that I will give him more money!”

“Sorry, but it's too late now”, Sin Vulpes spoke, pressing his gun at the man's back of the head. “You're not needed anymore.”

Those were the last words the man would hear in his life. Sin Vulpes pulled the trigger, shooting the man to his head with such an explosive power that half of his head was blown off. Blood, fragments of skull and pieces of brain stained the ground. The man died instantly, his body hitting the pavement. Sin Vulpes stared at his corpse for a while.

This was the first time he had killed somebody in this world. He looked at his weapon, seeing his face reflected on the clear barrel of the gun. He could see the face of a murderer.

And it felt empowering. He was stronger than these wretches of this world. It had been so easy to take the life of another. He could do it again. Maybe this was his purpose all along, to hunt for these weaklings. And the thrill… it was almost intoxicating.

Sin Vulpes smiled to himself a little before he started to walk away. The pouring rain tried to wash away the mess he had left behind, but not all filth can be cleansed.



[b]DAY 14: KRIMSON – STUDY THE MIND, DISPOSE THE HEART[/b]

In a laboratory deep underground, Krimson was examining with his gaze his latest experiment. Just an ordinary middle-aged man was lying on the operating table, completely naked and secured on the table so he wouldn't be able to move at all, not even his head. At the moment he was still unconscious since Krimson had knocked him out with a special gas. Then he had dragged the man all the way into this old and abandoned laboratory which he had made as his lair. It hadn't been difficult at all since Krimson was remarkably stronger than an average man. It was one of the benefits of being a cyborg.

The room where they were was in a mess. There were gaping holes dotting the walls and debris all around. Bloodstains dyed the floor and even some bits of the walls, some of that blood being old and some had come from Krimson's own experiments. Different kinds of tools were scattered here and there, having a little bit of rust in them. Krimson hadn't bothered to clean them or get new ones – rusty and sharp instruments worked fine because they would induce fear within his subjects. The lamps on the ceiling were working almost fine, except the one near the entrance to the room, it was flickering ominously. Ever since Krimson had managed to get the electricity working, this place had turned out to be quite an efficient space for his experiments.

When Krimson was checking his tools in order to decide which ones to use this time, the man on the table started to groan as he was slowly returning to his senses.

“Huh…?” For a while he had a glazed look in his eyes as they tried to adjust to the lighting. In a lethargic state he tried to move his head, but the straps forced it to stay still.

“Ah, good, you're starting to wake up”, Krimson said while his attention was still on his instruments.

The man couldn't process for a while what was happening. But gradually he became more aware of his situation and his eyes were moving around increasingly nervously as they were the only thing he could move.

“What am I doing here?” the man asked. “Who are you?”

“You're here to help me study something”, Krimson replied and moved a bit further away. He reached his hand into one drawer and took out a syringe. There was something yellow inside it.

The man had a strong feeling that he was in great danger. Desperately he tried to move his limbs and head, but couldn't do anything to the straps. “Please let me go!”

“Oh, no, that's not how this works”, Krimson stated as he brought the syringe close to his subject.

“W-what is that?” the man asked anxiously and glared at the unpleasant object in the cyborg's hand.

“This? It's an excellent substance created by a guild of rebellions, they use this for torture”, Krimson explained. “For a short moment, it will make you almost immortal. In other words, whatever I do to you, you won't die from it, not until it wears off. But of course, it won't erase pain.”

Then the cyborg stuck the needle to the man's arm and injected the substance into his body. After this he discarded the syringe and returned to check his tools. He wanted to let the substance take effect.

The panic was increasing in the man's mind. He knew something horrible was going to happen to him, something really bad. He still tried to struggle against his restraint, but in vain. He whimpered miserably, couldn't believe that this was happening.

And then the cyborg came into view with a circular saw.

“Now, let's begin”, he said. “Let me take a look inside your mind.”

He turned on his tool and immediately an ear-piercing sound of a saw filled the room. The blade hit the screaming man's forehead as Krimson started to saw it. His tool started to get red right away and he moved his saw around the man's skull in a patient and steady way all the while the man was crying. He managed to make a clean cut and the upper part of his subject's head got cut off and it dropped on the floor like a piece of trash, the man's brain now exposed. Krimson shut off his tool and poked the brain with his mechanical fingers. Then he took a few rusty needles from a nearby table and one by one he started to stick them to the brain. He was doing this very carefully and calculatedly as if following a diagram in his head how to place the needles. All the while doing this, he observed his subject's reactions. The constant stings in his brain made him whimper, but the longer Krimson did this, the more quiet the man got until his gaze became glazed.

Finally Krimson left the brain be, however, there was one more thing he would like to do. He picked up an instrument that resembled a big scalpel and began to slit open the man's chest. The incision was clean, which was quite the opposite to his next action: he forcefully tore the man's ribcage open, spreading the bones aside – there was barely any sound coming from the man's mouth. Now that the contents of his chest were exposed, Krimson aimed at the heart. Brutally he tore it out and looked at it with disgust.

It was the organ he hated the most. His own was a mechanical one. For some reason hearts fueled a feeling of hatred, although he wasn't sure why – the reason for this had disappeared with the rest of his memories. Violently he threw the organ against a wall where it did a disgusting splat before dropping on the dirty floor.

The cyborg looked at his subject. He was still alive, though just barely. But he would observe him all the while until the end, maybe tampering with the brain a little bit more.



[b]DAY 15: RISLEM – LETHAL POISON[/b]

It had started as an ordinary and beautiful summer day. The sky was bright, clouds were gliding by and a gentle breeze blew through the mountain region. On days like these, it was only natural that children wanted to play outside. And little Rislem was no different. He was just eight years old, but his father and mother had already begun his training as a demon hunter. It was the solemn duty of their family to protect this region from the demons, because in this mountain, a gateway to the demon realm was located. So, occasionally monsters would come down in order to seek easy prey among humans. Rislem's family was well respected for this and they enjoyed the full trust of the queen of this region.

It was important to the demon hunter family to teach their offspring very early on so they could start to hone their skills as early as possible and become a valuable guardian of the mountain. But that day, Rislem's mind was clearly drifting somewhere else than in his lesson. His father had tried to teach him some sword techniques, but little Rislem just continued getting distracted. Then the father sighed and smiled to himself, saying: “Let's end the lesson here. Go on, go outside and play.”

The little boy had excitedly dropped the wooden sword he had been using for training and just ran outside, into the light of the bright summer sun. His father just followed him with his gaze before he went on his own ways, recalling that he had an important meeting set up that day. He walked deeper into their mansion where their family had lived for generations, getting prepared for the audience.

Rislem had run off to the courtyard of their mansion. It was a calming place, like a beautiful little world. The garden was well kept so there were bushes and flowers blooming all around, there was a pretty pond with colorful fishes swimming in there and the yard blended together with the woods seamlessly. Rislem was playing around the courtyard with his ball and his mother was sitting on the veranda and doing cross-stitching. She was immersed in her work, but eyed what her son was doing every now and then. Everything was so calm and well, no one could have predicted that a tragedy would occur that day.

Rislem had magic running in his veins, all of his family had. Of course, he wasn't excellent at controlling this ability, it would still take many more years of practice before he could be called skilled. But he was eager to learn more and sometimes used magic for tiny performances. Like at that moment, he enjoyed tossing the ball around just with magic. He would repeat this over and over again, trying to make a record and then beat that record. At some point he managed to get the ball thrown really far, all the way to the woods. So he ran after it to pick it up.

Once he had left the courtyard and was running among the trees, he kept looking around for his toy. He checked many bushes and behind the trunks of the trees, wondering where the ball had gone. Just a little bit more looking around and then he found it and picked it up.

Only to notice that he was now facing a demon.

Rislem dropped his ball, his eyes widened from fear. The creature in front of him was like a hideous white lion with a tail of a scorpion. The boy had no idea how this abomination had managed to get so close to him without him noticing its presence. But he was just a child, it's not like he was great at anything yet. He could only stare at the monster's blazing eyes, not knowing what to do, he was frozen by fear.

The demon was growling with a low voice and took a few steps towards the little boy. It moved its tail intimidatingly, getting prepared to stab the stinger into Rislem. It was soon ready to strike, but when it initiated the final move and launched the attack, the stinger didn't sink into the boy – someone else had taken the hit. Rislem's mother had dashed in front of him just in time and took the poison to her body instead. She had pushed the boy out of the way just barely, and before Rislem even realized it, she had her sword out and she had impaled the demon's head with the blade. Then she pulled it off and thrusted the blade into the monster's throat. This was enough to kill it and its lifeless corpse fell down to the ground that was now getting stained by its blood.

All the while Rislem had watched this scene play in front of him. With shocked eyes he looked at his mother who had now fallen on her knees.

“Mom…?” he said feebly and hugged his mother. “Are you okay…?”

She vomited something that looked like a mixture of blood and some black substance. She coughed, spreading out droplets of this concoction. Rislem could only watch in horror how her eyes started to bleed and black veins appeared on her skin.

“Oh, my dear Rislem…” his mother spoke and tried to muster a smile on her face, despite the pain. “It is up to you now, to protect the mountain… You will become strong, I know it. I will watch over you from the spirit realm. I love you, Rislem.”

Rislem couldn't utter a single word. He just kept hugging his mother, tears starting to form in his eyes. And he held her, until the moment when all of her strength was gone and she fell to the ground.

Now she was gone. Forever.