The battlefield lay beneath a crimson sky, its air thick with the scent of blood and ash. The remnants of soldiers, shattered weapons, and broken banners littered the ground, painting a grim picture of the carnage that had unfolded. Yet, all that destruction paled in comparison to the abominations now looming over the desolation.
The giants—if they could still be called that—were grotesque amalgamations of human and giant flesh, stitched together by some cruel and unnatural force. Their bodies were a twisted patchwork, with human limbs fused into giant torsos in impossible angles. Gnarled hands, tipped with claws as long as swords, twitched spasmodically, and their movements emitted a wet, squelching sound, as if their very existence defied the laws of nature.
Embedded in their massive frames were faces—dozens, perhaps hundreds—warped and stretched across their flesh like a nightmarish mosaic. Each face bore an expression of unspeakable agony. Some silently wept, tears streaming down cheeks that barely looked human anymore. Others screamed, their cries muffled by the giant sinew and veins that trapped them. The sound was a cacophony of despair, a haunting symphony that made even the most battle-hardened warriors falter.
One of the monstrosities stumbled forward, dragging a leg that seemed too heavy for its body. Its massive frame cast a shadow over the battlefield, and as it moved, the faces on its chest contorted in pain. A voice, faint but desperate, escaped from somewhere within the creature.
“End this…” it rasped, the plea trembling with raw emotion. “Please… kill me…”
Another abomination loomed close behind, its head malformed, with eyes of varying sizes blinking in disjointed rhythms. Its mouth opened wide, revealing rows of crooked teeth, and from within came a torrent of voices—men, women, even children—screaming in perfect unison. “Save us!” they cried. “Release us from this torment!”
The sheer horror of the scene was too much for some. Soldiers from both sides of the battlefield, unable to bear the grotesque sight, dropped their weapons and fled, their screams echoing in the distance.
Cain stood at the center of the chaos, his dark aura coiling around him like a living thing. His glowing crimson eyes reflected the suffering before him, but no pity graced his features. He tilted his head, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
“So,” he murmured, his voice carrying an unsettling calm, “this is the desperation they’ve sunk to.” He took a step forward, his boots crunching over shattered bones and shattered dreams. “Pathetic.”
Not far from him, the Swordsman of Light gripped his radiant blade, his knuckles white with tension. His heart twisted at the sight of the giants, their suffering pulling at something deep within him. “This is monstrous,” he muttered, his voice barely audible over the cries. “No one deserves this, not even our enemies…”
One of the giants—a particularly grotesque figure with half a dozen arms fused to its back—lurched toward Cain. Its mismatched eyes locked onto him, and a deep, guttural growl rumbled from its throat. “You!” it bellowed, its voice shaking the ground. “You have the power to end us! Kill me! Do it!”
For a moment, Cain’s smirk faltered. His gaze flickered to the twisted faces embedded in the creature’s body, their eyes pleading with him. A shadow of something—perhaps doubt, or perhaps disdain—crossed his features, but it was gone in an instant.
“You want mercy?” he asked, his voice laced with mockery. The shadows around him surged, writhing like serpents. “Mercy is for the living. You’re already dead.”
The giant roared, its arm swinging down in a massive arc toward Cain. The force of the blow shattered the ground beneath it, sending debris flying in all directions. But Cain didn’t move. With a flick of his wrist, the darkness surged forward, a tidal wave of shadow that engulfed the giant’s arm and tore through its body like a blade through water.
The creature’s screams echoed through the battlefield, rising to a deafening crescendo before abruptly cutting off. What remained of its body collapsed into a pile of ash and bone, leaving behind only the faint echo of its desperate plea.
The other giants recoiled at the sight, their cries growing louder and more frantic. One began clawing at its own body, ripping chunks of flesh away in a futile attempt to free itself. Another fell to its knees, its massive hands covering its face as it wailed.
The Swordsman of Light stepped forward, his glowing armor radiating a warmth that seemed out of place amidst the horror. His voice, steady and resolute, carried over the chaos. “I swear,” he declared, “I will free you from this torment. No one deserves to suffer like this.”
Cain turned to him, his smirk returning, colder than ever. “Such noble words,” he sneered. “But words won’t save them, Swordsman. Only power will. And I won’t waste mine on the likes of them.”
The Swordsman glared at him, his grip on his sword tightening. “Then step aside,” he said, his tone sharp with conviction. “If you won’t do what’s right, I will.”
The Swordsman of Light stepped past Cain, his glowing blade radiating a golden brilliance that seemed to push back the oppressive gloom. His gaze locked on one of the abominations, its hulking form writhing as human limbs flailed helplessly from its grotesque body. A dozen faces on its torso turned toward him, their mouths moving in silent pleas.
He raised his blade high, its light illuminating the battlefield like a beacon of hope amidst the despair. “Your suffering will end,” he said firmly, his voice carrying a quiet promise. With a swift motion, he brought the blade down, releasing a wave of pure, radiant energy.
The energy surged forward, cutting through the air like a comet, and struck the giant square in the chest. The abomination let out a deafening scream, its twisted form convulsing as the light began to unravel the dark magic binding it together. The faces embedded in its flesh lit up one by one, their expressions shifting from anguish to peace as the light consumed them.
The giant’s body crumbled into golden ash, the remnants swirling into the air before disappearing entirely. Silence fell over the battlefield, broken only by the soft whisper of the wind.
Cain watched with narrowed eyes, his smirk fading into something unreadable. “You waste your strength,” he said, his voice cutting through the quiet. “One by one? You’ll exhaust yourself before you’ve even begun.”
The Swordsman turned to him, his expression grim but resolute. “It’s not about strength,” he replied. “It’s about doing what’s right.”
Cain let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “What’s ‘right’ is a matter of perspective, Swordsman. Mercy is weakness, and weakness gets you killed.”
Before the Swordsman could respond, another giant charged toward them, its grotesque form trembling with barely contained rage. This one was larger than the others, with chains of sinew binding multiple torsos together, their arms swinging like pendulums as it lumbered forward. The ground shook beneath its weight, and its guttural roar sent shivers through the remaining soldiers on the battlefield.
The Swordsman of Light readied his blade, but Cain stepped forward, raising a hand to stop him. “This one’s mine,” he said, his tone dripping with dark amusement.
The shadows around Cain writhed and coiled like living serpents, growing darker and more menacing. They surged toward the approaching giant, wrapping around its limbs and dragging it to a halt. The creature thrashed against the bindings, its voices—a discordant mix of rage and desperation—echoing through the battlefield.
Cain’s crimson eyes glowed brighter as he stepped closer, his shadowy tendrils tightening around the giant. “Look at you,” he murmured, his voice mocking yet eerily calm. “A pathetic attempt to cling to life, stitched together by desperation and fear.”
The giant let out a guttural moan, its many faces twisting in agony. “Kill… me…” one voice rasped, barely audible over the cacophony.
Cain tilted his head, a cold smile playing on his lips. “As you wish.”
The shadows constricted with brutal force, crushing the giant’s form. Black ichor and ash erupted from its body as it collapsed inward, the faces frozen in expressions of final relief. The remains were swallowed by the darkness, leaving nothing behind.
The Swordsman of Light clenched his jaw, his hands tightening around his blade. “You didn’t need to do it like that,” he said, his voice laced with anger.
Cain turned to him, his expression unreadable. “And you didn’t need to waste your light on them. The result is the same, Swordsman. They’re free, aren’t they?”
Before the Swordsman could respond, a low rumble echoed across the battlefield. The ground beneath their feet began to tremble, and a chilling wind swept through the air. From the horizon, more giants emerged—dozens of them, each more grotesque than the last. Their voices carried across the distance, a haunting chorus of anguish and rage.
“They’re not stopping,” the Swordsman muttered, his resolve hardening as he prepared himself for the onslaught.
Cain’s smirk returned, cold and sharp. “Good,” he said. “Let them come.” The shadows around him surged, forming jagged spikes and swirling tendrils. “The more they send, the more fun this will be.”
The Swordsman glanced at him, a mixture of frustration and determination in his eyes. “This isn’t a game, Cain. These are lives—lives we need to save.”
“Save them all you want,” Cain replied with a shrug, his crimson gaze fixed on the approaching horrors. “I’ll just make sure they don’t kill us first.”
As the giants drew closer, their cries growing louder and more desperate, the two stood side by side—light and darkness, mercy and ruthlessness—against an overwhelming tide of suffering and horror.