Villain Throne:I Build An Empire On Bones

The night was shrouded in darkness, the moon a faint sliver casting a weak, ghostly glow over the jagged cliff. The Thunderclaw Ravager loomed ahead, its massive, hulking form still as a statue, staring at Zairen with cold, glinting eyes that pierced the shadows. Its jagged teeth gleamed in a twisted, mocking grin, as if it could taste their dread. Merek, clutching his sword with trembling hands, whispered, "Brother, why has it stopped? What does it want?" His voice quivered, barely audible over the wind.

Harlen, the so-called leader, growled under his breath, "It's an E-rank monster—smart. It sees the cliff and knows something's off. It's playing with us." His tone was rough, edged with grit, but his eyes betrayed him—flickering with doubt, his hand twitching near his sword as if ready to flee. A village soldier, pale and drenched in sweat, stammered, "What now? We're done for!" Zairen's voice sliced through the chaos, sharp and commanding, "Quiet, everyone!" The air grew thick, each ragged breath echoing in the tense silence.

Zairen stood at the cliff's edge, peering into the abyss below. The drop was merciless—jagged rocks protruded from the depths, faintly glowing in the moonlight, promising a brutal end to anyone who fell. His red eyes narrowed, knuckles whitening as he gripped his sword tighter.

Behind him, the group was a pitiful sight. Five villagers and two small children huddled together, their whimpers swallowed by the howling wind. A mother clutched her child, her wide, terrified eyes reflecting the faint light, her silent plea for salvation hanging in the air. Harlen and Merek flanked Zairen, but neither inspired confidence. Harlen's gaze darted nervously, hunting for an escape. Merek's sword clinked against his armor, his hands shaking, his face ashen. Four village soldiers stood nearby, trembling. One was bleeding out—his left arm a mangled ruin from a wolf bite, flesh shredded, blood dripping steadily onto the dirt. Yet he gripped his sword, jaw clenched, defiance in his stance.

Zairen turned to them, his voice low but brimming with raw emotion. "Listen, everyone! We might die here, but we won't die weak. These people"—he thrust a finger toward the villagers—"we'll fight for them. If death comes, the survivors will scream to the world that the lions of the Southern Motherland fell saving their own! Our names will be etched in blood and honor, not buried in shame!"

His words crashed over them like a storm, sparking a flicker of courage. The villagers' sobs softened, their shoulders lifting slightly. The soldiers' trembling eased, a glint of resolve in their eyes. Harlen's jaw tightened, a brief flash of admiration crossing his face. Merek's grip steadied, though his eyes remained shadowed. They weren't broken yet—they had fire left.

Zairen raised his sword high. "Strike now!" he bellowed. The group surged forward, steel glinting in the dim light. The Thunderclaw's grin widened, and a crackling surge of lightning danced across its fur, illuminating the night with an eerie glow.

The beast moved like a phantom. In a flash, it vanished, leaving them stumbling in confusion. "Where'd it go?" a soldier cried, voice cracking with panic. Zairen barked, "Keep your eyes open! It's coming!"

It reappeared beside Rorin, a young soldier barely twenty. Rorin whirled, eyes wide with terror, swinging his blade desperately. Too late. The Thunderclaw's claws tore into his shoulder with a wet, ripping crunch, blood erupting in a crimson spray. "Save me!" he shrieked, clutching the wound. The beast struck again—its claws slashed his chest wide open, guts spilling out like steaming coils, splattering the ground. The air thickened with the metallic stench of blood as Rorin collapsed, his final scream fading into a gurgle.

Panic clawed at their hearts, but Zairen's roar pulled them back. "Stick with the plan! Don't give up—there's still hope! Fight" His voice was a lifeline, dragging them from the edge of despair. They moved sluggishly, forming a shaky half-circle around the Thunderclaw. It gnawed on Rorin's head, bones snapping in its jaws, its eyes glowing with sadistic delight.

Zairen shouted, "Now!" They closed in, blades flashing. The Thunderclaw leaped, lightning surging from its body in a blinding arc. Another soldier vanished in a burst of light—his body incinerated, leaving a pile of charred bones smoking on the ground. The air reeked of burnt flesh.

Harlen, Merek, Zairen, Toren, and the injured soldier Ryan fought on. The injured one Ryan, his arm hanging useless, swung at the beast's back. Futile—its fur was like steel, deflecting the blow. Only Harlen and Zairen drew blood. Harlen hacked at its leg tendon, slicing deep into the soft flesh. Blue blood sprayed, pooling on the earth. Zairen thrust his sword into its liver, the blade sinking in with a squelch. More blue blood gushed, and the Thunderclaw howled, spinning toward him. Its jaws snapped inches from his face—he dodged by a heartbeat. Harlen struck the tendon again, carving deeper. The beast screeched, lightning exploding chaotically from its fur. Merek, Toren, and the Ryan ducked, narrowly escaping. Harlen wasn't quick enough—a bolt slammed into him, searing his shoulder black, flesh peeling away in ragged strips. He crumpled, groaning in agony.

The Thunderclaw's rage surged, its fur crackling like a storm unleashed. It fixed its burning gaze on Zairen, hatred radiating from its core. Zairen muttered, "Sorry, wolfie. Can you forgive me?" The beast charged, vanishing and reappearing beside him in a blur. Zairen dodged, but it pressed on—relentless, unstoppable. He sidestepped, gasping for air, barely clinging to life. Merek stood frozen, watching from a distance. Zairen yelled, "You bastard, hit it from behind!" Merek didn't budge. Despite his injury Ryan rushed in, brave but frail. The Thunderclaw whirled, sensing him, and unleashed a lightning bolt. He flew back, crashing into a tree, unconscious.

The beast turned back to Zairen, their battle a whirlwind of steel and sparks. Merek glanced at Harlen, burned and broken, then at the villagers fleeing into the night. He mumbled, "Forgive me, leader. I'm saving myself." He bolted, the villagers trailing him in a frantic scramble. Zairen cursed, "Now I'm done for!"

Alone, Zairen faced the Thunderclaw. His arms burned, strength bleeding away. He dodged too late—bam!—the beast slammed him into a boulder. Pain erupted—ribs snapped, blood flooded his mouth, warm and coppery. "Is this the end? Dying to an E-rank monster?" he thought, vision dimming. The Thunderclaw growled, assuming him dead, and lumbered toward the fleeing villagers.

Merek sprinted ahead, panting. The mother with her child grabbed his arm, "Brother, save us!" He shoved her off, "Look after yourself!" Then—thud—the Thunderclaw landed behind him. Its jaws clamped down, tearing his head clean off with a sickening pop. Blood sprayed, hot and thick, splattering the woman's face. Her scream shattered the night as the villagers scattered.

Back at the cliff, Harlen stirred, blinking through the haze to see Zairen bleeding out. He crawled over, wincing, "Master Zairen, you alive?" Zairen groaned, eyes fluttering open. "Where's the monster?" Harlen coughed, "Chasing the villagers." Zairen spat blood, "Running won't work. We're dead." His gaze hardened. "But I have a plan. Follow me." Harlen hesitated, pain etched across his face. Zairen snapped, "Better than dying like dogs."

Soon, the Thunderclaw returned, a villager's leg dangling from its jaws, blood dripping fresh and red. It sniffed Zairen, assuming him finished. Then—shnk!—Zairen's eyes flared open, and he drove two daggers into its eyes. Blue blood exploded, sparking wildly. The beast screamed, lightning erupting in all directions. Zairen rolled clear. Harlen, summoning his last reserves, swung at its head. The blade cracked its skull—not deep, but enough. The Thunderclaw thrashed, roaring in fury. Harlen muttered a spell—fire and wind spiraled into a tornado, forcing the beast toward the cliff. Zairen charged, shouting, and rammed his sword into its gaping maw. The Thunderclaw staggered, slipped, and plummeted into the abyss. A distant howl rose, followed by the crunch of shattering bones. Silence fell.

Zairen collapsed, chest heaving, blood and sweat dripping from his brow. Harlen slumped beside him, barely alive, his charred shoulder oozing. Zairen crawled over, voice hoarse, "You okay?" Harlen nodded weakly, his breath shallow. Zairen offered him a water skin. As Harlen drank, gulping desperately, Zairen's tone turned to ice. "Harlen, I know everything. You, your crew, Uncle Vireal—you planned to kill me."

Harlen choked, water spraying from his mouth, eyes bulging with shock. Shnk! Zairen's blade plunged into his Adam's apple with a sickening crunch. Blood erupted, thick and red, gushing down Harlen's chest like a river. His mouth gaped, spewing crimson as he gurgled, wide eyes locked on Zairen in horror. His trembling hands clawed at Zairen's wrist, nails scraping, but his grip slipped, slick with blood. Harlen's body spasmed, then went limp, his lifeless stare frozen in betrayal.

Zairen met his gaze with cold, unyielding eyes. "Well, job's done," he said, voice flat. He wiped the blade on Harlen's torn cloak and slumped back, exhausted, the ground soaked red beneath them.