Sin Eater 4 (Patreon)

Before him stood a towering demon, its pasty pale skin was stretched taut over its massive seven-foot frame that loomed ominously. The demon was draped in a threadbare kimono, its tattered edges swaying slightly with every movement of the appendage behind it. A large tail, thick and muscular, swished lazily behind it, like a dog that had seen something interesting. Its face was a grotesque collage of asymmetrical features: three eyes of varying sizes and shapes were scattered haphazardly across its visage, giving it an eerie, disjointed appearance.

"You’re lucky we don't typically kill one another. The big man says so, but you’ve been a naughty little glutton, haven’t you?" the demon spoke, its voice a gnarly rasp. But I wasn't listening.

Instead, I stood frozen, desperately trying to suppress the ravenous hunger tearing through me. The scent of bloodshed had finally triggered something within me, shattering the lock that held the wolf at bay. It took every ounce of my willpower not to dive at Isamu’s body, to resist the urge to lap up the sweet red nectar flowing from the gaping hole in his midsection. The temptation to break open his body, suck the bone marrow, and feast on what remained was overwhelming.

"You’re freshly turned, aren’t you?" the demon continued, its voice dripping with a mocking curiosity. I didn't bother to respond, my focus entirely on keeping myself still. I knew that losing control now would mean the end of what I believed to be my true self.

All the demons we encountered, even those who were once normal, always lost their humanity. I knew the key lay in their continuous consumption of humans. Despite what I had become, deep down, I wanted to remain human—or at least cling to whatever tattered shreds of humanity I had left.

"Still fighting off the urge. That day was your first, wasn’t it? And you’ve not been able to feed since then," the demon trailed off, beginning to circle me as it realized with a laugh. "No, you’ve simply refused to feed.” He completed a circle around me before stopping in front of me once more. But my gaze remained fixed on the broken old man who, even with his dying breath, had tried to make me run.

“That should be impossible. I had only planned on beating and ruffling you up a bit for leaving us with so little to eat after you picked the choicest bits, then recruit you into our family. But you’re not even a true demon still clinging up to your humanity like a rat refusing to let go of a cheese”

When the kick came, I didn’t even see it. I was sent hurtling through the closed window, shattering its wooden frame. I bounced off the ground and finally came to a rest amidst the chaos outside. The screams and wailing were clearer now, unfiltered by the walls of the building. Struggling to my feet, I tried to block out the nauseating stench of blood. A hand grabbed me by my hair, yanking me upright, and I found myself staring into the demon's eyes as my vision cleared.

"A demon that refuses to feed on humans is not a demon my king would see in his army. It’s better I finish you off," the demon declared, slamming my head into the ground with such force that I blacked out. The repeated pounding as he continued to bash my head into the ground barely registered as pain as I found myself consciously going numb to everything.

This was what I wanted, wasn’t it? Death. I had grown weary of this pitiful excuse of a life and sought an end to it. Hadn't I tried to walk into the sun itself? So why wasn’t I happy now? Instead, I felt my blood turn to fire in my veins. I slapped my hand to the ground, halting the downward motion of my head.

"What are you doing, trying to resist?" the demon questioned, amusement in his voice, but like it hadn't learned from the last three questions. I ignored it and instead found a grip on the ground. I was not even sure why I suddenly began to resist, but I did.

It was a curious thing to feel angry, and with every breath I took, that anger grew stronger. Yes, I had wanted to die, and yes, I would’ve walked into the sun if I could. But that was before. When everything seemed so bleak and empty, with no hope of a way forward. Now, things were different. Now, I had options.

The hopelessness that once consumed me had given way to a spark of possibility, a faint chance. It was a tiny silver lining, barely visible against the darkness that had surrounded me for so long. But it was there, an ember in my heart, It was small and delicate, but it was there, a chance at something better. And with that ember came rebellion.

It started as a tremor in my chest, spreading like wildfire through my veins. One hand clenched into a fist, nails digging into my palms, the sting a sharp reminder of my escalating fury. While another was laid spread out on the muddy ground, stopping the downward force being applied to my head. My vision narrowed, and the world around him blurred as the raw, primal emotion took hold. I could feel my heartbeat pounding in his ears, drowning out all rational thought. This was no longer just suffering; it was a catalyst.

I could feel the change within me. The anger swelling within me wasn't merely a reaction to my circumstances; it became a fierce resolve, a determination to seize onto that faint glimmer of hope. Now, with a purpose to fight for, I clung to that ember of hope. I would find a way forward with Tamayo. Find a cure and with any hope, find a way back to my life.

So, with gritted teeth, I refused the downward force of the push and continued to rise slowly. But inch by inch, “How are you—” the demon cut himself off, but I could hear the uncertainty in his voice.

Instead of wasting time continuing a losing battle, he jerked me up, and with the force I was putting through to lift myself, I shot up. Then, he slammed his forearm into my face, and I was sent flying once more. But this time, I was not the confused mess that was sent flying out of the window, and I found myself rolling to my feet a second later as my back hit against a house.

A man blazed past me, his body engulfed in flames and cries for help piercing the air. Yet my attention remained fixated on the source of my rapidly rising anger. It was hard to decipher emotion on such a horribly crafted face, but I was certain what I saw on his face could vaguely be interpreted as uncertainty as he walked towards me, the tail that coiled behind him lashing out to the sides in anticipation and wariness.

I pushed myself effortlessly out of the wall's imprint, my gaze slowly drawn once more to my hands, where memories of my earliest days in this life flooded back. Images flashed through my mind: waking up on a blood-soaked battlefield, tearing apart corpses with bare hands, and leaving an imprint in an oak tree as I stumbled away from my grim origin and unseen threats.

I was strong, strong enough that even a demon I assumed was older than me couldn't press my head into the ground when I resisted. Instead, my gaze fell upon my form, and the low simmering anger I had been nurturing finally surged, transforming from an ember into a blazing furnace as the blood in my veins shifted from feeling like fire to molten magma.

"You stained me!" My voice thundered through the tense air, words laced with a seething anger that reverberated off the walls, and the demon looked at me with confusion. Taking a step toward him, my anger intensified further. It had been a small thing, barely noteworthy, but one I had cherished: I had finally had a bath. Washing away the grime that had encased me, returning to a semblance of normality. After weeks in the forest, living and acting like a wild man, I had finally stumbled upon civilization, only for it to burn around me now—screams, pleas, and bloodshed crystallizing once more, fueling my rage.

I was furious at the demon who had shattered the little sense of modernity and civilization I had found. Angry at the man he had killed, who had tried to guide me back to safety. But most of all, even above its attempt to kill me, I seethed with rage because that three-eyed, fat-tailed fuck had made me dirty once again.

I charged him with a howl, and he charged me right back, and when we met in the middle, my instincts took over. Not this new body I was in, with half-hazard memories of fighting with a blade, not the demonic urge to rip and tear, no these were my instincts.

Ducking under his outstretched arm, I delivered a thunderous blow to his midsection that sent ripples through me. The impact crumpled his ribs and reverberated through his organs, a shockwave of force that left him gasping for breath.

An uppercut followed, this deep inside his guard, and with the height difference, it allowed the strike to gather momentum as my fist lashed out once again. Precision honed by over a year of dedicated training sent my fist into his jaw with bone-crushing force, fracturing it and sending him reeling.

He staggered back, his hand slapping over his destroyed jaw, and warbled out from the destroyed mess of broken teeth and what must have been half a tongue.

“Howw aare youu so stroong?” Yet even as he spoke, his tail lashed out from an angle, but I could see it coming a mile away, my nerves were alive with molten magma coursing through it and I sidestepped the tail swipe with a boxer fluid grace, staying just out of its lethal range.

The demon surged forward again, mistaking my retreat for weakness. But I was agile and calculated. A year and a half of amateur boxing and mixed martial arts had taught me to anticipate and react. Each movement was deliberate, every step a strategic maneuver. The anger and monstrous blood flowing through me lent a strength I could never have wielded in my past life.

His blows came like thunderous wild haymakers, each seeking to cave in my head. But with fluid agility and footwork, I danced past them all—stepping back to dodge a kick, bunching my shoulders to slip under another haymaker, and smoothly dipsey-rolling past the last. There it was, his right side wide open once more.

The demon was a creature of brute strength, lacking finesse or strategy. As I ducked and weaved back into the original crater I had created in its side, which was slowly healing, I couldn't help but wonder about its past life. Was it a farmer? A cook? Perhaps just a cleaner. It didn’t matter now; whatever it used to be, it lacked the grounding in combat that would have made it a more formidable opponent. Instead, it relied on sheer brutality and strength against regular humans to survive and thrive.

My fist landed precisely in the same spot as before, and a shout of pain tore through the demon. My blow had done more than land; it tore through weakened flesh, past shattered ribs and torn muscles, finally embedding itself within the demon's body.

“B-but, you’ve not even fed, how are you-“

Once again, I ignored his frantic pleas as my fingers delved deeper into the demon's torso, seeking out something beyond the squishy mass of organs. My grip tightened around something solid, rigid, and ridged—a part of its spine. A rush of exhilaration surged through me, a savage grin spreading across my face as I realized what I held.

I looked up the demon's eyes widened with fear and realization. Despite their formidable strength and resilience, demons, like humans, relied on a skeletal framework to support their powerful bodies.

A skeletal frame; and what I had clasped in my hand was a part of its spine; the midsection of the main structure that held up its body. This close and stuck to its body with my limb in him, the demon sent thundering blows that battered my head, each impact rattling my brain in its cage, and cracking my skull. Still, I refused to yield.

“Let me go!!” It screamed as it continued to rain down heavy blows on me for the first time, Yet, each strike only fueled my anger, my determination, and my hate. This creature had become the vessel for all my pent-up frustration, a target onto which I could unleash all my self-loathing and rage.

With a primal roar, I summoned every ounce of strength. Muscles strained and tendons groaned as I yanked my hand with brutal force. The demon's flesh tore and ripped around my grip, creating an even larger cavity in its side. The effort sent searing pain through my arm, but I held on fiercely, driven by sheer adrenaline and the need to inflict pain and hurt.

Finally, with a sickening squelch, my hand burst free from the demon's body, clutching the spine segment like a macabre trophy, just as a final blow crashed into my head, sending me hurtling through the air once more for what felt like the hundredth time before slowly coming to a stop in the muck of mud and blood. I crashed to the ground, dazed and bloodied, but knowing in my heart, I had won.

…

As my consciousness flickered in and out, my body raced to heal the brain damage inflicted by relentless blows to my skull. The cacophony around me began to fade, drowned out by the roaring fires, but a primal hunger gnawed at my insides, intensifying with each heartbeat. The more my body worked to heal, the more hollow I felt. Instinctively I forced myself staggering to my feet as I scanned my surroundings, head swiveling and tongue flicking the air like a serpent.

A dragging sound caught my attention, and I jerked my head toward it with such force that in my previous human form, it would have snapped my neck. But I was far from human now. The demon struggled forward, its movements awkward and labored. Confusion washed over me momentarily—why didn’t it just get up and walk?

Then my gaze fell to the bloodied bone fragment still clutched in my hand—a piece of its spine. And for all that demons were not human, they were not so eldritch that they could function without a spine. I knew that, so why was I wondering about it once again? I let the bone slip from my grasp, splashing into the mud and began to stagger toward the demon.

My footsteps squelched in the mud, drawing the demon’s attention. It turned, its three eyes widening in terror.

“Stay back! Stay away from me!” it shrieked, its voice a mix of pain and fear. But I couldn’t focus on its words, not when my hunger threatened to consume me. I lumbered toward it, each step deliberate and heavy.

Reaching the demon, I pressed my knee into its back, forcing it down into the cavity where its spine was regenerating. My tongue darted out, tasting the fear emanating from the creature. It had never known defeat like this—helpless, broken, and at the mercy of a relentless predator.

"Okay, okay, you’ve won. Just let me go. You can’t kill me, you know. Demons can’t kill other demons, we always regenerate." The words echoed in the moonlit clearing, but they held no sway over me. I stood there, a vessel for something primal and hungry, far beyond the reach of reason or mercy.

Once more, I relinquished control to my instincts. Gone were the cautious reflexes of a medieval accountant, and the anxious uncertainties of a recent graduate. All that remained was the relentless hunger of a predator, ancient and insatiable—a ravenous wolf prowling within my skin.

The demon thrashed beneath me, its futile struggles a symphony of desperation. Limbs flailed wildly, seeking to dislodge me, but I held firm. My face descended slowly towards its shoulder, drawn inexorably by the scent of fear and desperation that emanated from its quivering form.

My jaws widened, unhinging to accommodate the demon’s right shoulder. With a swift, brutal motion, I clamped down, and the demon's screams pierced the night like a knife. Its agonized howls reverberated through the air, drowning out all other sounds, a testament to the horrors unfolding beneath the moon's indifferent gaze.

In this age of demons, something even more monstrous was emerging—a creature born of fury and hunger, heedless of the moral constraints that bind lesser beings. My jaws worked furiously, tearing into flesh and bone, my tongue tasting blood and bitter acids that burned like fire.

The meat tasted no different from the dead wolf I had carried on my back days ago, yet with a malevolent tinge to it that seared my throat and choked the air from my lungs. Still, I swallowed it down, defiant against the revulsion and horror clawing at my insides. Ignoring the easier prey which was the humans that ran about.

My eyes bulged, my body protesting against the atrocity I was committing, yet I pressed on. With each gulp, a surge of twisted exhilaration coursed through me as I felt the revolting meat settle in my stomach, and finally, for the first time in weeks, I swallowed something.

"Ha ha ha ha!!" The laughter erupted from the depths of my being, a primal release that echoed through the stillness of the night. It was more than amusement; it was catharsis, a breaking of chains that bound me to my former self. Each guttural sound tore through the air. A loss of innocence yet a declaration of intent, a defiant cry in the face of my own change.

Disgusting yet liberating, the laughter carried with it the weight of newfound purpose. In that moment, I understood with chilling clarity—I had found my prey, and they were my own kind. Demons, creatures of darkness and strength.

The world trembled as another abomination was born, the Ubuyashiki bloodline tarnished further by my actions. Unlike the first curse, this was a sin that cut both ways—a double-edged sword, poised to bring ruin to both humans and demons.

As my laughter subsided, replaced by a chilling silence, I stared down at the demon beneath me. It writhed in futile resistance, its defiance melting into terror as it realized the depth of its mistake. It turned its head, lips parting to speak—but it should never have dared.

“What are you—”

I snapped forward like a snake that had caught weakness, and my jaws clamped over the exposed throat. With a flex of powerful jaw and neck muscles, I ripped out its throat and voice box and began to chew once more. It didn’t take long before I attempted to swallow, and just like the first time, it fought me all the way. But even after a second bite, I already knew and made sure to crush it as much as possible before taking a gulp. Finally, it slipped and burnt its part past my throat before settling in my stomach.

With the demon gurgling beneath me, I finally surrendered totally to the beast and allowed it to feed. Sinking into better memories, I ignored the screams that were coming from beneath me, the pleas to stop, the threat of the king coming after me, and the feeling of my hand ripping open the body beneath me, breaking open bones, and going after the soft insides.

With every bite, I grew stronger; with every swallow, my injuries mended, yet I didn’t stop. Demons regenerated from everything, even other attacks by demons, yet the demon beneath me somehow found it hard to regenerate as my feeding did more than eat his body.

I plundered that most powerful gift that had been bestowed upon him, and it came to me eagerly, like a lost hound tasting the scent of its owner upon a child in the air and drawing a correlation between them The essence that had been bestowed upon the demon was what I truly fed on, and I could feel it strengthen me as the demon weakened.

When I finally regained consciousness, I found myself amidst a horrific scene of blood and offal. Surrounding me were the torn remnants of the demon's clothes and the shattered bones and rib cages that lay broken and scattered around me. A clear tale of what had occurred.

I sat in that self-made abattoir, and as I stared at my hands, the realization of the monster I had become sunk in completely. Staring at the blood on my hands, I found I had lost something, something very human. I had lost my tears.

…

He felt another one die. It was like a thread had been cut, and he froze halfway with the teacup to his lips. This one was different. This wasn’t just the work of one of those annoyances that protected the sheep.

He allowed his consciousness to drift, and he saw. In the middle of what looked like an abattoir, a boy sat in seiza while his form lay completely drenched and covered with blood — a demon's blood. Yet underneath all that grime, he recognized the features: the pale purple eyes, the silky black hair, the asymmetrical features so much like his own, and he smiled.

There was hope for this pet project then. He had grown bored, and that coupled with something else, something he could not quite define, had fueled this spontaneous experiment. He had looked into that face, and it had been like staring into a twisted mirror on that battlefield during a heavy snowfall.

Those purple eyes drifted to him once more, and he noted how hollow they had become from the once vibrant gaze he had seen that first time. Yet there was something else in them, a spark of madness.

“Good,” he stated as the cup in his hand cracked and fractured from the grip he held it in.

“Did you say something, my honored husband?” He ignored the woman who had served as his wife for this decade, her voice trembling with fear, as he crushed the cup in his hands. “Very good.”

A/N: Slowly coming to the startling realization that this might be too dark and gory.