THE GOD OF RUIN

Chapter Two

Alex's POV

I held the blade. Blood tracked down my fingers, hot and slick, yet I felt no sting. A brutal smile carved its way across my face—a grin that didn't belong to me. I stared at Kael. For the first time, I didn't see a prince. I saw prey.

My hands twisted the steel with a sudden, explosive torque. The heavy executioner’s sword shattered. The shards sang as they hit the stones, a metallic death knell that rang across the silent courtyard.

My legs bent. My joints cracked in ways that should have left me crippled. I didn't run; I blurred.

I moved faster than human thought, a shadow crossing the distance before Kael could even draw breath. His arrogance dissolved into a raw, pathetic terror. He stumbled over the polished boots that once carried him with such pride.

I was already there. I seized him by the hair, my fingers tangling in the gold strands, and slammed his skull into the stone wall.

Again. And again.

The gray rock darkened, drinking deep of the royal red. I drove my boot into his side, feeling his ribs collapse like dry parchment under my weight. The sound was exquisite.

The voice inside me vibrated through my chest, hijacking my vocal cords.

"Very good," it hummed. "**I love the way they break.**"

King Leo’s shout split the air, jagged with panic. "Stop him! Kill that thing!" His golden son, once untouchable, was now nothing more than a ragdoll in the dirt.

The crowd froze. The cheers died in their throats, replaced by a cold, suffocating horror. They had come for a spectacle, but they were facing a nightmare.

Guards surged forward, their boots pounding a frantic rhythm against the stone. To me, the sound was distant and muffled, as if I were moving through deep water. One lunged at my back, his spear aimed for my spine.

I didn't turn. I reached back blindly, catching his fingers in a vice grip. I felt the heat of his skin, the frantic pulse of his heart like a trapped animal.

The voice inside me whispered again. My lips obeyed:

"Oh la la la... what a delicious, precious finger."

I wanted to scream, to resist, but my body was a passenger. I watched as my hand twisted the guard's finger slowly, savoring the resistance before the bone snapped. His shriek tore through the courtyard. I moved to his throat, my fingers tearing through flesh as easily as damp paper. The coppery scent of his life made me gag, but the thing inside me only laughed as I threw the body aside.

Hunger coiled in my gut. I appeared before Kael again, snatching him up and tossing him like refuse. My fists struck in a blur of motion. His screams began to bubble, wet and broken, across the stones.

King Leo sank into his throne, his face a mask of white terror. Nearby, Michael’s hands trembled so violently his wine splashed the floor. He stared at the blood, then vomited. There was no soul left in my eyes. They called me a devil, and in that moment, they were right.

Another guard struck from the blind spot, his sword driving deep into my back. I didn't cry out. My neck twisted with an impossible, sickening rotation until I met his gaze. His eyes widened, freezing in a look of pure, unadulterated fear.

I gripped the steel embedded in my chest. Pain seared my palm, but my bones held firm against the edge. Slowly, I drew the blade free. It felt wet. Cold. Heavy.

I tasted the flat of the steel with my tongue. Then I seized the guard’s neck, cutting slowly, deliberately—like peeling bark from an old tree.

"I love the pain they feel," the voice hissed. "After all these years trapped in the silence... I am free."

King Leo could no longer hide on his balcony. He drew his own blade, his cape billowing behind him like wings. “You dare touch my son! You dare lay hands on royalty!”

I didn't flinch. I caught his royal blade with my bare hands. The metal cracked under my grip. A single, massive punch sent the King flying into the wall. His crown tumbled, rolling across the very stones I had scrubbed that morning.

Suddenly, my body rebelled.

Bones began to c***k uncontrollably. Agony tore through my center. The red glow in my vision flickered and died. The cold presence withdrew, leaving only the fire of a dozen wounds. I fell to my knees, the sound of my impact echoing across the now-silent courtyard.

"Oh God, I hope he survives this power," the voice whispered, sounding soft and strangely sorrowful.

Kael, broken and trailing blood, crawled toward me. Hidden beneath the filth of the floor, he raised a dagger and plunged it into my back.

“Argh!”

Darkness rushed in. Blood clouded my sight. Every nerve in my body felt scorched by white heat.

“Take him to the deepest dungeon,” King Leo commanded, scrambling to reclaim his crown. “Now!”

“What… is happening… to me?” I choked out. A guard’s boot smashed into my skull, and I sank into the black.

The crowd fled the arena, their whispers carrying on the wind like a plague. *Devil. Monster. He sold his soul.*

Lydia stood frozen as they dragged me away. my face scraped against the grit, leaving a red streak behind me. The servants I had known for years looked at me—not with pity, but with pure terror. I wanted to tell them it was still me. I was still Alex. But the words were drowned in blood.

Medics rushed to Kael, his jaw shattered beyond recognition. I was hauled into the depths, where the air grew thin and the temperature plummeted.

“Son… I am sorry. He will not survive the night,” King Leo whispered, his eyes fixed on the stained courtyard.

Above the arena, a man in a black cloak and a wide-brimmed hat watched the scene unfold. Dark energy pulsed in the air around him. A small, knowing smile touched his lips.

“Here it comes,” he whispered, then vanished into the shadows.

I woke in total darkness.

The stench of rot, damp stone, and dried blood filled my lungs. My hands were chained to the freezing walls, the iron biting into my raw wrists. My soul felt shattered. I tried to move, but the chains scraped, grinding a harsh rhythm against the floor.

Pain flared through my head like a lightning strike. My memory was a fragmented mess: a falling crown, a snapping finger, a red glow. Only one thing was certain. I had survived, but at a cost I could not yet comprehend.

The dungeon door creaked open, a long, agonizing sound.

“The thing is still struggling,” a guard sneered, stepping into the flickering torchlight. He didn't look like a soldier. He looked like a butcher entering a slaughterhouse. “Hand me the knife. Let’s finish what the prince started.”

I stared at the glint of the blade, my body frozen. Was this how I died? Again? No one cared. No parents, no friends. Only a pitiless world that wanted me erased.

I forced a small, bloody smile. If I was to die, I would not die as a servant. I would die as a nightmare.