The Psychopathic Beast Emperor

Gilemore had never regretted his actions in life until now. If in the beginning he was confident in doing something to Bahamut, now that confidence had disappeared to wherever it came from. He could feel it... Death.

He knew he was going to die, and nothing could stop it unless someone on the level of the inner disciples and above stepped in. That too was a pipe dream. Even if they saw it, they would do nothing; after all, he attacked first.

One of the reasons why sects were feared and had a lower admission rate than academies was because of death. The death rate in sects was 10 times higher than that of academies and schools. Sects didn’t ban death. In fact, dying in a sect was as normal as eating and sleeping. That was the reason why no one seemed concerned about Ren and Friel’s deaths.

Sects were survival grounds. Anything could kill you at any time, so you had to be prepared and be vigilant always. This didn’t mean that senseless killing was allowed. No! But with the current situation, anyone who dies wouldn’t get justice, no matter how wrong or right he was.

If Bahamut died, he would have been blamed for being weak, and the culprits would at most get a light punishment.

If they died, then it was obvious what actually happened. They ganged up on him, and he killed them, proving his strength. This will push him up the ladder of strength of the sect.

Such was the harsh reality of a sect, and no one wanted that, so they avoided fights unless it was very necessary or a sect activity. Gilemore thought Bahamut would be an easy kill, as he came with the notion to end him once and for all. Despite knowing that an elf could not have another partner once they already got one, he still wanted to end Bahamut, because just as Exildra had gotten Bahamut and would never leave him, Gilemore had also fallen head over heels for Exildra. It was an indirect love triangle, and one of them had to go, or so he planned, and now, he was the one about to be taken out.

Gilemore ran until his lungs burned. His legs felt like they would give out at any second, but he didn’t dare stop. Behind him, he could hear it. Footsteps... slow and measured.

"Please... please..." Gilemore muttered under his breath, his voice breaking as tears streamed down his face.

"I... I was wrong... I!"

A presence appeared right behind him.

"Hmm?"

Gilemore froze... a claw rested on his shoulder, cold, and heavy.

"Where are you going?"

Gilemore turned his head slowly and saw him. Bahamut’s face was inches from his. That wide, unnatural smile stretched across his lips, his fangs fully exposed, glistening faintly. His eyes... there was nothing human left in them.

"P-please... I... I won’t..."

CRACK!

A scream tore through the forest.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!"

Bahamut tilted his head slightly, staring at the elf’s arm now hanging loosely at an unnatural angle.

"Oops."

He didn’t sound sorry, not even close. With a sudden jerk...

RIP!

The arm came off. Blood sprayed violently into the air, splattering across Bahamut’s face and body. Gilemore collapsed to his knees, his scream turning into a broken, choked wail.

"AAAAAAAAHHHH-! MY ARM! MY ARM!!"

Bahamut stared at the severed limb in his hand.

"Warm."

Then, without hesitation, he brought it to his mouth.

CRUNCH.

The sound echoed sickeningly, bone and muscle, torn apart between his teeth. Gilemore’s screams became hysterical.

"NO! NO! STOP! PLEASE STOP!"

Bahamut chewed slowly and deliberately. Blood dripped down his chin as he swallowed.

"Not bad." He looked down at the elf again. "But you’re too loud."

Gilemore tried to crawl away, one arm digging into the dirt desperately.

"HELP! SOMEONE... PLEASE!"

Bahamut stepped forward calmly.

STOMP!

His foot came down hard on Gilemore’s back.

CRACK!

Another scream followed as his spine bent unnaturally under the force. Bahamut crouched slowly.

"I said be quiet."

His clawed fingers grabbed the elf’s head, forcing him to look up and their eyes met. Gilemore’s were filled with pure, unfiltered terror while Bahamut’s was filled with hunger.

"You wanted Exildra, right?" A soft chuckle escaped him. "This is what you get."

His claws dug into the elf’s chest slowly, tearing through flesh like paper. Gilemore’s scream reached its peak, raw and broken.

"PLEASE! I’M SORRY! I’M SORR!"

CRUNCH.

The scream cut off abruptly, and silence fell. Bahamut remained crouched there for a moment, chewing and swallowing. The forest stood still. Even the wind seemed to stop.

After a few seconds, he exhaled slowly.

"Still hungry..."

His head tilted again, and his eyes flickered slightly. Something deep inside twitched.

The silence didn’t last. Bahamut’s voice dragged low, almost disappointed. His head turned slowly toward the stream. Five bodies were scattered and broken, some unconscious, some... stirring.

"Ugh..."

One of the humans twitched, clutching his side as he tried to sit up.

"What... happened..."

Another coughed violently, spitting blood as his vision blurred. Then, they felt it... A presence, heavy, oppressive, and watching. Their eyes shifted and found him standing there still, covered in blood, that same unnatural smile stretched across his face.

"Oh..."

One of them froze completely.

"He’s still here..."

Another scrambled backward, panic flooding his face.

"W-WAIT! WAIT! We!"

Bahamut stepped forward.

"More."

BOOM!!!

He vanished. The ground where he stood shattered. The first human didn’t even react.

SHIK!

A crimson blur passed him. For a moment, nothing happened. Then his body split cleanly across the torso. Blood burst outward as he collapsed in two uneven halves.

"One."

Bahamut’s voice echoed softly. The others screamed.

"RUN!"

They scattered in different directions in desperation. But it didn’t matter to him. They were all the same.

Prey.

The fox beast-kin tried to leap into the trees. Mid-air, Bahamut appeared above him.

"Where?"

CRASH!

He grabbed his head and slammed him straight into the ground, creating a crater. Before the body could even settle, a stomp crushed his skull completely.

CRACK!

"Two."

The lizard beast-kin roared, scales hardening as he charged in blind rage.

"I’LL KILL YOU!"

Bahamut didn’t dodge; he walked forward. The punch came.

BOOM!

It landed, causing dust to explode. For a moment, it looked as if it worked. Then, a hand reached through the dust and grabbed his face.

"Too soft."

CRUSH!

The skull caved in under Bahamut’s grip, and the body dropped limply.

"Three."

The last two humans ran side by side, their breathing erratic, their steps uneven.

"DON’T LOOK BACK!"

"JUST RUN!"

They didn’t see him, nor did they hear him, until.

"Why?"

He was in front of them. They crashed to a halt as two hands shot forward.

GRAB!

He caught both by the throats and lifted them effortlessly. They struggled, kicked, clawed...

"P-please!"

"We won’t!"

"Quiet."

CRACK!

CRACK!

Two necks snapped simultaneously, and their bodies went limp.

"Five."

Silence returned, and the stream flowed quietly again. The grass swayed gently, and in the middle of it, Bahamut stood alone, blood dripping from his hands. His chest rose slowly. Then, the hunger stirred again, stronger, and demanding more.

"Not enough..."

His head tilted slightly, and his eyes scanned the surroundings, searching for anything. But then, his body twitched violently.

"Gh!"

Something inside him resisted and fought back for control.