Born To Outlast Blood

Meeting the monster that forms itself with dead bodies of both humans and animals, I could do nothing but stare. What should I do? What can I do? Many other questions started flooding my head.

Just looking at this monster makes my body stand still even if my mind is calm my body is still in fear.

"Curse this useless body."

The monster finally is formed with multiple corpses it is big and disgusting, something that didn't belong to nature or even a nightmare.

It towered over any creature, a patchwork of agony. Arms where legs should have been. Skulls melded into a twisted torso. Swords jutted from its chest like ribs. Shields formed its spine. And from a visage that defied description just jagged shards of bone shaped into a grotesque imitation of humanity eyes flickered open.

Then it attacks, I have no other choice but to run even with my weak body I have to force it to run. 

I tumbled down the side of the corpse mound, slipping over limbs and bones slick with filth. The fall twisted his ankle, and I hit the ground hard, sinking into the muck. I stifled a cry as pain shot through his leg, but I didn't stop.

I couldn't.

The creature was coming. Its massive form surged forward, each step like an avalanche of the dead.

I crawled, dragging myself toward a shattered stone slab that jutted out of the ground like a gravemarker. I pressed against it, my eyes scanning the area. My hand brushed against something cold.

A sword hilt.

Still embedded in a corpse's chest.

I gripped it and pulled.

Nothing.

I tried again, pulling harder this time, grunting as frustration twisted my face. The sword wouldn't budge. I slammed my fists into the corpse's chest, screaming through gritted teeth.

"MOVE—!"

With a sickening squelch, the blade finally came free, slick with rot.

It was too big for me. Too heavy. But it was all I had. I turned around. The monster loomed above me now, casting a shadow that seemed to swallow everything. I backed away, slipping on the wet ground. The sword trembled in my grip.

The creature lunged. I rolled, barely dodging a crushing blow. The ground shattered where I had just been. Bone shrapnel flew, and one piece caught my shoulder, tearing into my skin. I cried out and dropped the sword.

The beast turned again.

Relentless.

Unstoppable.

I scrambled backward, my hand landing on something sharp.

A broken spearhead.

I grabbed it.

Instead of running away, I charged toward a hanging corpse tangled in a rusted iron net, swaying like a windless chime. With every ounce of strength I had, I climbed the corpse, the slick blood and rain making each grip a struggle. The beast followed, slow but relentless.

Closer. Closer.

At the top, I jammed the spearhead into the fraying rope overhead. And then I let go, falling just as the net tore loose. The rusted mass collapsed onto the monster, dragging bones and metal down with a thunderous crash. For a brief moment—just a moment—it was pinned.

I landed hard. Everything hurt.

My vision was a blur. I had no sword. No strength.

Only… rage.

It began deep in his chest, a flicker of something that felt like warmth but was anything but. It was cold and furious, sharp like shards of glass.

Black fire danced at his fingertips. Wild. Unrestrained. It erupted from my hands, a jagged flame that seemed to blend ink and lightning. It cracked through the air. It burned away the decay. The monster howled as its prey its on his knees.

I stepped forward, flames flickering along my arms, his eyes glowing with a wisdom far beyond his years. The creature writhed beneath its restraints, groaning, its limbs twitching.

I screamed.

Not like a child. Like a soul ripped from the pages of history. A scream born of betrayal. Of fire. Of losing everything. The black flame exploded. It consumed the monster entirely.

The beast thrashed, cried out, and then disintegrated into smoke and ash.

And then silence.

I stood alone.

The flame in my hands flickered, once.

Then vanished.

The cold came rushing back.

My knees gave out.

I didn't sleep. i didn't die.

I simply collapsed into emptiness.

An emptiness no child should carry.

But I did.

And I would.

Because the world had burned with my family.

And all that remained… was me.

The boy they tried to bury.

The monster that refused to die.

"Surviving isn't living," I whispered to the darkness, voice cracked and hollow. "But it's all I have left."