Forsaken Hunter-Chapter 14: The Throne of Death

The air inside the dungeon was thick with the stench of blood and decay. Glistening pools of crimson mingled with the dust, staining the cracked stone floor. Corpses of goblins and skeleton warriors lay strewn across the battlefield, their bodies torn apart like ragdolls—limbs twisted, skulls shattered, entrails spilling in grotesque heaps. The eerie glow from the dungeon's core pulsed faintly overhead, casting jagged shadows that flickered as if alive, acknowledging the presence of something far beyond mortal comprehension.

At the foot of a massive skeletal throne, Beno Mark sat, his posture deceptively relaxed yet radiating an aura that made the dungeon itself tremble. His once-dark attire clung to him, soaked in blood—some his own, seeping from countless wounds, some from the creatures he'd slaughtered, streaking his torn fabric in violent smears. His cold, piercing gaze locked onto Rio, who stood several meters away, chest heaving with labored breaths.

Despite the gashes crisscrossing his body, despite his frail frame compared to the hardened hunters of legend, there was something terrifying about him. An unshakable dread rippled through the air, a whisper of power that had the world outside quaking in fear of his name.

Rio's hands shook as he opened his inventory, fumbling with a pair of power-detecting glasses. He shoved them onto his face, his breath catching as glowing red numbers flared across the lenses.

[Power Level: C-Rank]

"C-rank...?" Rio's voice cracked, disbelief twisting his features. He'd braced for an S-rank monstrosity, a titan of destruction. But C-rank? A smirk curled his lips as confidence surged, drowning his fear. He's only a C-rank right now... I can win this!

Without hesitation, he yanked a small, dark vial from his inventory. His trembling fingers uncorked it, revealing a forbidden enhancement pill—a cursed concoction that promised unimaginable strength at a horrific cost. The vial hummed with malevolent energy, its contents swirling like liquid shadow, tendrils of darkness licking at the air.

Beno tilted his head slightly, his bloodied hand resting against his cheek as he watched with an eerie, almost amused calmness. "So, that's your plan, is it?"

His voice was a low murmur, yet it echoed through the dungeon like the tolling of a death knell, each word dripping with regal authority that sent a shiver racing down Rio's spine.

Rio ignored him and swallowed the pill.

The effect was instantaneous—and horrifying.

"ARRRGGHHH!!" Rio's scream ripped through the dungeon as his body convulsed violently. Black veins bulged beneath his skin, pulsing like living serpents. His muscles swelled grotesquely, tearing through his clothes as his skin darkened to a sickly gray. His arms stretched, bones cracking audibly, his spine arching with a sickening snap. Jagged claws erupted from his fingers, and his eyes blazed crimson, his hair igniting into an electric blue that crackled with static.

He was no longer human—a towering, grotesque beast, surpassing even a B-rank hunter. The dungeon walls trembled under his monstrous aura, the air warping around him like a heatwave, the pressure suffocating everything in its reach.

Annie, watching from a distance, clenched her fists, her eyes gleaming with manic excitement. "Yes, Rio! Kill that bastard!"

Her voice was a shrill, unhinged cackle, bouncing off the stone walls as she rocked on her heels, reveling in the chaos.

Rio flexed his claws, the raw, destructive power surging through him like a drug. His blood-red eyes fixed on Beno, who remained seated, his expression unchanged—no fear, no concern, only a faint, mocking amusement in those cold, piercing eyes.

That look ignited a furnace of rage in Rio's monstrous form. "BENO MARK! I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!"

His roar shook the dungeon, his body blazing with destructive force. He drew his arm back, his fist glowing with fiery energy that scorched the air. "DESTRUCTION PUNCH!"

The very fabric of reality cracked as the air compressed into a sonic boom. The ground beneath him exploded, shards of stone hurtling outward. A massive shockwave erupted, obliterating everything—the skeletal throne vanished into ash, the ground erased into a smoking crater, goblin corpses disintegrating into dust. The dungeon itself screamed, a guttural wail reverberating through the stone.

Beno was hurled backward like a broken doll, his body smashing through stone pillars with bone-shattering force before slamming into the farthest wall. Blood splattered across the ground, a crimson arc painting the stone.

Annie's eyes lit up with glee. "Yes, Rio! You did it! You finally—" She sprinted toward Rio's monstrous form, her laughter wild and triumphant, expecting to see Beno's corpse reduced to rubble.

But then—she stopped.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Her eyes widened in horror.

Her entire body froze, as if the air had turned to ice.

Rio still stood, his massive frame towering over the wreckage.

But... his head was gone.

A grotesque fountain of blood gushed from his neck, drenching his muscular form. His lifeless body remained upright, oblivious to its own demise, claws twitching faintly.

And then, from behind him, a shadow emerged.

Beno Mark.

His body was battered, blood dripping from his mouth, clothes in tatters. But in his right hand, he held Rio's severed head—spine and all, dangling like a grotesque trophy. Rio's face was frozen in shock, mouth agape mid-scream, crimson eyes wide with terror.

Annie's world shattered.

"RIOOOOOOOOOO! NOOOOOOOOOOO!" Her scream pierced the air, raw and agonizing, as she collapsed to her knees. Her body shook violently, hands clawing at the ground as if she could undo the nightmare before her.

"RIOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Her voice broke, a guttural wail of despair. She clutched her head, nails digging into her scalp, tears streaming down her face as she convulsed. "No... no... NO! This can't be happening!"

The Birth of the King of War

Charles stood frozen at a distance, his breath trapped in his chest as he witnessed the carnage. The moment Rio's attack connected, Beno had been blown away by the sheer force. But instead of resisting, Beno had used it—his fingers driving into Rio's skull with surgical precision, nails piercing bone like daggers. Then, the force of Rio's own punch ripped his head clean off. It wasn't just brutality—it was strategy, warfare.

Rio had killed himself without even realizing it.

Charles' body trembled, his knees threatening to buckle. "This..." he whispered, his voice barely audible over the pounding of his heart. He clenched his fists, mind reeling.

This wasn't just strength. This wasn't just instinct. This was the work of a warlord.

He looked up at Beno, standing amidst the blood-soaked battlefield, dragging Rio's severed head like a trophy. "This is... the King of War..."

His voice quivered, laced with sheer terror.

Annie's Madness – Desperation & Fear

Annie's breathing turned ragged, her pupils shaking as her body twitched uncontrollably. In blind panic, she lunged at Charles, grabbing his collar with feral desperation. "I-If you come near me, I swear I'll kill him!"

Her dagger pressed against Charles' neck, hands trembling so violently the blade nicked his skin, drawing a thin line of blood. Her entire body was drenched in sweat, eyes bloodshot, mouth twitching as sanity slipped away. "Stay away, you demon!" she shrieked at Beno, her voice cracking with fear.

Charles froze, heart pounding. He'd seen what Beno did to Rio—the unrelenting brutality. Annie was making a deadly mistake.

Beno didn't respond.

He simply walked forward.

Step.

Step.

Step.

His calm, methodical footsteps echoed, each one a hammer blow to Annie's fraying mind. Her grip tightened, but her hands shook harder. "STAY BACK!" she screamed, a raw, animalistic howl.

Step.

Step.

Step.

Beno's cold gaze locked onto her, unreadable as stone—no anger, no hatred, no pity, just chilling indifference.

"You tremble like a lamb before the slaughter," he said, his voice low and resonant, carrying the weight of a king's decree. "You fear death, don't you?"

Annie's breath hitched, her eyes widening in terror.

"You don't want to die," he continued, his tone merciless, stating an immutable truth.

Step.

Step.

Beno closed the distance, his presence suffocating, a predator stalking prey too weak to flee. Annie's body seized up, her vision blurring as her chest heaved.

Her mind screamed—run, fight, survive.

Beno with Absolute voice:- "Glory of Dead"

A notification flashed in her vision, glowing red against the dungeon's darkness.

[New Ability Unlocked: Hearing of Souls]

The world shifted. Her ears rang with a high-pitched whine, the dungeon walls twisting as reality unraveled. Then—she heard them.

The voices of the dead.

"Help me..."

"Please... save us..."

"Why... why did I have to die?"

"This pain... it never ends..."

Thousands, tens of thousands of screams clawed at her sanity, a relentless cacophony from every direction. She clutched her head, nails digging into her scalp as her knees buckled.

She saw them—Joy's ghost, his arrogant face twisted in sorrow; Rio's decapitated head, mouthing silent screams; goblins, hunters, adventurers—their ethereal forms reaching for her, ghostly fingers clawing at her skin, voices drilling into her skull.

"Save us."

"Save us."

"SAVE US!"

The Breaking Point – Brain Burst

Annie's body convulsed, her vision spinning as the voices overwhelmed her. She couldn't escape, couldn't breathe. Her mouth foamed, eyes rolled back, screams turning to choked gasps.

Then—a crack.

A sickening snap echoed in her skull, her mind shattering like glass. Blood trickled from her nose, her twitching ceased, and her body went limp. Her eyes stared into the void, mouth frozen in a silent scream.

She was gone.

Dead.

Her brain had exploded from the overload, her soul claimed by the abyss.

Aftermath – Charles' Horror

Charles watched, hands trembling uncontrollably. He stared at Annie's motionless body, her expression frozen in terror, lifeless eyes reflecting the dungeon's dim glow.

And Beno... exhaled, a faint breath carrying the weight of indifference, as if he'd swatted a fly.

Charles' body shook, breaths shallow and panicked. Beno Mark wasn't human—a nightmare in flesh, a living embodiment of death.

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He was standing before a King of War.

Submission of the Unworthy

Charles fell to his knees, the weight of the moment crushing his spirit. His breaths came in ragged gasps, heart pounding as if it might burst. He wanted to run, to fight, to scream—but he knew the truth.

There was nothing he could do.

He'd seen true power—from Beno Mark.

No human could rip a man's head off with one hand. No human could stare down death and emerge victorious. No human could stand there, drenched in blood, body broken yet unyielding, cold eyes void of hesitation.

Charles trembled as Beno turned to face him. The air grew heavy, the dungeon bowing to his presence.

"Charles," Beno said, his voice calm—too calm—resonating with the authority of a king who'd conquered death.

Charles flinched, throat dry, words barely escaping. "Y-Yes... my King...?"

Beno stepped closer, gaze locking onto him like a predator sizing up prey. "I will spare you," he said, tone cold and unyielding.

"Not because I forgive your treachery, but because I made a vow to your sister—to protect you."

Charles' chest tightened, shame burning within. His sister. His hands clenched, nails drawing blood.

Beno had every right to kill him.

Yet, because of a promise, he lived.

But then—Beno spoke again, voice a low decree that chilled Charles' spine. "If you ever betray me again, I will ensure your death is one of honor—a fitting end for a traitor."

No threat, no malice—just cold certainty, a promise from a king who never faltered.

Charles lowered his head, pride and soul crushed beneath that presence. "Yes, my King," he whispered, lips trembling.

The Collapse of a Monster

Beno exhaled, tension dissipating. But something was wrong. His body wavered, vision blurring as pain crashed down like a tidal wave. Blood trickled from his arms, soaking his torn shirt. His breaths grew ragged, fingers numb.

The world tilted, darkness creeping in. Then—his body gave out.

Beno Mark collapsed, the King of War felled by his own battle.

Hospital Awakening

The world felt heavy, an endless abyss pulling Beno under. The air pressed on his chest, suffocating.

A soft, rhythmic beeping pierced the void, tugging him back. Something cool brushed his skin, contrasting the burning ache within. His eyelids trembled, then opened.

A blurry white ceiling loomed, light harsh and unfamiliar. His body ached, every muscle protesting as he stirred. Everything felt dull, a haze.

Then—he saw her.

A shadowed figure hovered above, framed by sterile light. His vision focused—tears, swollen red eyes, trembling hands.

"You idiot..." Her whisper shook with emotion.

Then, she threw herself onto him.

Luna's Tears

Luna clung to Beno, arms wrapping tight around his battered body. She trembled, raw emotion shaking her frame. Her tears soaked his neck, warm against the thin hospital gown.

"Why do you always make me worry like this?!" she sobbed, voice cracking, strength replaced by vulnerability.

Beno winced but didn't push her away. His voice rasped faintly, "Luna..."

She pulled back slightly, sniffing as she wiped her eyes. Her lips trembled, fingers clutching his gown. "You were found near death," she said, voice barely a whisper.

"Charles carried you out of the dungeon. If we hadn't found you in time, you—" Her voice broke, unable to finish.

Beno frowned, mind foggy. "Dungeon...Oh...yes..But... I was fighting... cultists..."

Charles' Hidden Truth

In the corner, Charles froze, blood running cold. Beno had forgotten—Annie, Rio, the massacre, the submission.

Yet—he lived.

Charles touched his chest, heart pounding. He heard Beno's last words from the dungeon: "Do not speak of what happened here," a low growl brooking no defiance. "Not to anyone."

His fists clenched, nails biting into his palms.

Beno Mark was not human.

And the world... had no idea.

"Charles submitted, but did Beno even realize the weight of what he just did? And now... he's already forgetting everything? This isn't normal.

Is it just trauma messing with his mind, or is there something far more sinister at play? Could he be possessed?

Or is his own consciousness shattering under the pressure? Maybe there's something—or someone—lurking within him, waiting for the right moment to take control.

What do you think? Drop your theories in the comments, vote my novel Forsaken hunter and let's uncover the truth together!"