Chapter 37: The Blood Dance
A smile split like a scar across my pale face as I surrendered to the intoxication of battle. My blood boiled, my entire being vibrated with exhilaration. I activated my Blood Pact, and a burning wave coursed through my muscles, swelling them with strength, my senses sharpening to the extreme. Each beat of my heart demanded a toll, a sacrifice willingly given in the abyss of slaughter.
Then, I struck.
I had stopped thinking. The blood spoke for me. My body moved on its own, driven by a cold certainty: I was made to kill.
Not to survive. Not to love. Just... to kill.
A movement. A flash.
My claws sprang from my fingers, curved like raptor talons, terrifyingly hard. My first strike gutted the nearest insectoid, slicing through its obsidian carapace like fragile flesh. A geyser of black fluids splashed across my face as I was already melting into the next shadow.
The Swarm reacted instantly. Dozens of creatures leapt at me, their legs scraping against stone, mandibles open in a silent scream. I vanished. My body blended into the gloom, slipping through their attacks, evading bites, tail lashes, chitinous blades trying to shred me.
Then I reappeared—behind them.
My claws plunged into an insect’s skull, pulverizing its head in a black spray. My other hand sank into another’s abdomen, and in a smooth motion, I tore its entrails out in a piercing cry.
The insects screamed.
The stench of death was already spreading, yet they kept coming. The Swarm felt no fear, no pain—only the imperative to kill, to crush, to tear apart. I felt the ground tremble under their pounding limbs.