Quinn yawned, half-naked and standing alone on a damaged bridge where several cars had been abandoned and left to rot, while the water beneath had long since dried up. Weeds had begun sprouting around various structures. The young man wandered over to a car and sat atop it. From his expression alone, it was clear he was waiting for someone—or something.
"I'm really hungry... but I should clear out some things before heading back to the asylum. Speaking of which, I believe those fallen giants tend to trash this area from time to time..." he muttered to himself, casually rolling his wrist before finally clenching his fist.
Suddenly, loud rumblings echoed from the far end of the bridge. Judging by the heavy, thundering footsteps, Quinn quickly recognised the source—it was a fallen giant. No, not one—three of them.
Ordinarily, no human would dare confront such creatures. They were far too powerful for guns or bombs to affect; only someone supernatural might stand a chance—but even then, not just anyone. Yet Quinn did not seem particularly human. His hair was cut into a rough wolf style—white on one side, black on the other.
The monstrous figures advanced rapidly. Quinn cast a quick glance at them.
Huldevores. Ten feet tall, with hulking muscles and skin made of charred stone for armour. Beneath it, rotting flesh pulsed grotesquely. Their hands alone were capable of crushing a man like mashed potatoes.
Suddenly, his eyes narrowed, and a malicious grin twisted across his face. Amusement surged through him. He began laughing manically as he stood tall atop the car, awaiting their approach.
One of the giants struck out—but the hand was instantly torn apart by an unseen force as Quinn locked eyes with it. His irises glowed blood red, and the ashen blood that burst from the severed limb briefly lingered mid-air. Hopping gleefully like a madman revelling in the spectacle, he reached into the suspended blood. It twisted and reshaped itself, forming a jagged chain with black-edged, condensed links.
The Huldevore that had been maimed recoiled. Some ancient instinct stirred, and it felt fear, despite its limited intelligence.
"Now, let's dance, babies. I don't want those fools eating without me... but I've got to hunt for fun first. Tsk. Tsk."
His voice was quite deep and cold, yet unmistakably laced with delight.
In less than a second, he was in the creature's face. The chain shot forward, coiling around its neck. It didn't merely cut—it devoured entirely. Spikes jutted from the links, shredding flesh and bone. The Huldevore screamed a brutal, dying wail.
Two more giants burst through the ruins—Dirgehorns.
"Oh, lucky me. Seems you lot aren't from the same underground... but a fallen giant's still a giant, heh-heh-heh."
They were taller and swifter than the Huldevore. Their horns were twisted and blackened with ore, and their golden eyes gleamed with aggression—yet no comprehension. They saw the young man and bellowed a challenge.
His grin widened.
He leapt from the corpse as its head dropped and snapped his fingers.
Blood erupted from the dead Huldevore, forming eight narrow spears that hovered in the air.
"Chaos is a charm... and all things created shall inevitably fall to its hands. Meaning—I command reality itself, just like God. But just look—the old man isn't lifting a finger to save humans from the likes of you. I'm the only one doing anything. Heh-heh-heh."
He didn't aim. He merely laughed.
The spears launched in every direction. One Dirgehorn lost an eye; the other took a spear to the leg. Both staggered, and the entire bridge trembled beneath Quinn's aura. Cars were hurled aside like toys.
He dropped to the ground, which cracked beneath the impact.
The blood-chain stabbed into the earth and yanked him forward in a flash. In the blink of an eye, he was behind one of the giants. He plunged his hand into its back. Blood responded instantly — and violently.
A crimson torrent surged through the creature's torso, tearing through organs, nerves, and bone, before erupting from its mouth like molten steel. The stream curved in mid-air and returned to Quinn's grip, solidifying into a weapon — a blood-forged scythe with spinning edges.
He turned to the last giant, still grinning.
"You've got one second to run."
The creature turned to flee — as if it understood him.
However...
"Too late."
He was already airborne, laughing like a lunatic.