Hell is destined for those who oppose God, as it is a denial of acceptance.

  Huff.

  Puff.

  Amarze hovered in the sky, his sack fluttering in the wind, the rough fabric around his head scraping as the sun shined on his back. The undying sun blessed his rage, yet even it began its slow descent into slumber.. He stared down at the ground, the trees waving in the sun. The commotion bustling like busy bees as the citzens were at peace.

  Loud festive music booming as child friendly lyrics hummed, a song about baking a cake.

  Somewhere, a mother was humming the festival song. Somewhere, a child laughed about sugar and flour.

  “Sounds like prayer— blasphemy as Thidos’s way is the truth.”

  Smiles were smudged across their faces— even from a far, far distance.

  “It always makes me sick coming here, it’ll be the last time however…” Amarze’s crusted lips spat, saliva propelling towards the ground at the speed of light as his eyes narrowed.

  His hollow pure eyes— they scorned with true wrath.

  “I’ll show a festival.”

  The man was dressed with: two long ivory chains weighing at his long pair of dark trousers, burying the black shoes worn underneath in a mass of coarse fabric. A red and black pinstripped cape strung along his sulken neck, his skinny pale torse full with a purple haze of bruises and cuts. Alongside his cape, three sets of pitch black scarves were twisted around— juttling alongside his sack.

  He outstretched his right palm, an ouroboros, bold and charcoal circulating throughout the centre of his hand— his fingernails, claws.

  His eyes spiralled, red.

  “Attention.”

  Amarze’s lips bellowed out, the wind paused— the trees stopped waving as the commotion died down.

  The populace stared above, at the man— no the Saint in the Sky.

  Parent’s clutching their children, one pointing at the Saint.

  Their eyes sparkled.

  “I am Amarze. Amarze Judae, the Saint of Floria; also regarded as the Hero. The Hand of Judgement. Ten years ago, you animals stole something precious to my heart— therefore I’ll physically steal yours and crush them in palm. Say goodbye to your loved ones, as for most of you will never see them again.”

  The Saint closed his right palm into a fist.

  He smiled— rotten teeth layered across his pale gums as he tilted his head right, looking at Samiel’s Castle.

  “I won’t go there… that’s more political drama.” The man muttered to himself.

  He stared back at the onlookers, some were laughing whilst most were panicking— fright setting in their eyes.

  “Excellent.”

  “SOMEBODY STOP HI—”Amarze grabbed a fairy by the skull— only using his fingertips. He was standing on something bulky, a mountain of dead bodies.

  Flies swarming around him, or perhaps them.

  “Shut up!” Amarze roared, he pinched the fairy’s skull until it caved inward— a yellow powder leaking from out. The amalgamation of brain matter, pink squishy matter enveloped his fingernails— painting it a bubblegum colour.

  “Wh— what did….” An orc from underneath, barely alive coughed.

  “SHUT UP!” Amarze shrieked, he pushed down on the heel of his shoes— crushing into the orc’s snout. “I’m sick of your whining!”.

  Blood iced his heel like sugar glaze. A baker finishing his work.

  Amarze stood on the pile, he rattled his head around; the sack covering it flicking up and down as he spat onto the grass.

  The grass painted with blood.

  “Mommy.”

  “Ehh?” Amarze turned around, he saw an elf child— clinging towards the corpse of a lady buried within the pit.

  His eyes spiralled.

  “Who are you?” His tone was collected, calm as he sat on the herd of corpses, leaning his head right. He outstretched his right arm to the child— leagues away from his position as his teeth curved.

  The child looked up, “I am— your destroyer.”

  Poof.

  The child evaporated as silhouettes of three stood in their place.

  “End your carnage for a quicker death.”

  “Who are you?”

  A voice perplexed Amarze, in front him standing were three people: a skeleton, a walking shark and an orange goblin.

  “Oh. It’s you fuckers.” Amarze’s iris faded— leaving darkness to follow suit.

  “Yeah.” Biteso kicked the dirt on the ground, the three were looking up at the man— the piles he accumulated within only two minutes. “You bastard.”

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  “As such.”

  Amarze hopped off— he vanished.

  Then appeared behind Biteso.

  Covered in blood.

  The Saint flicked the blood off like a dog— the grey cartilage splatting against the floor like dough.

  The Shark was not lucky however.

  A gaping hole was throughout his torso, he was penetrated through. The upper interior of his body had his spleen attempting to reconnect— his esophagus was hanging out of the hole like a slip and slide

  PLOP.

  Biteso staggered forward before folding like wet parchment. The smell of iron bloomed. Amarze wiped his hands and laughed, the baker pleased with his work.

  Amarze turned around, slowly. He pretended to fix his imaginary oven mittens as he looked at the skeleton smiling.

  The smile of the Hero.

  “Now tell me where is the one who did such a thing to me.” Amarze nodded his head, “I wasn’t a looker before but now I feel really upset to whoever made me below that standard.”

  “What the fuck!” Deb shrieked.

  “You bastard!” Skelsor performed a palm strike before rushing into the fray. He outstretched his arms, performing a ring motion as his two dimensional arms clattered onto Amarze’s shoulderblades.

  “I feel quite determined right now.” Amarze stared at the Pirate— the sailor gulped, flicking up his hat. “Guess that’s just my will telling me to end your life.”

  Amarze headbutted the mandible, the recoil sending the pirate staggering back. The Saint then snapped his right arm— charging the fist to aim at his ribcage.

  “No!”

  The Skeleton snapped his body around, narrowly dodging the attack. He then shoved his hip-bone into Amarze’s thigh halting his next attack he was about to attempt with his left arm.

  Skelsor outreached his phalanges, grabbing onto Amarze’s shoulders as he slammed his frontal bone onto the sack.

  BANG.

  BANG.

  BANG.

  Bang.

  “I’m tired!” Amarze chuckled, his sack feeling no damage— him tasting zero chunks in the batter.”

  The Saint’s shoulders slumped—his exhaustion almost playful.

  Shoving his knee into the veretebal column, causing the skeleton to drop to the floor; clutching his sternus. He began to wheeze.

  “I’ve never seen a skeleton pretend to have lungs.” Amarze looked over to where Deb was.

  She was gone.

  “She really left you?”

  “No! She went to get As— Asura!”

  Amarze bended down, grabbing Skelsor by the maxilla; his fingers creeping through bone structure. Causing it to crack.

  “Is Asura the one who did this to my face?”

  “YES!” The Skeleton yelped.

  “Thank you for the information. It’s funny how you feel pain though— you got no brain, right?” Amarze cracked his neck.

  He then lifted his left arm up.

  Shoving it into Skelsor’s maxilla alongside the right.

  “Let’s see how far that diploe gets you!” The DECIMATOR grinned— tearing apart the skeleton’s skull.

  Chunks, bits, pieces of cake flicking inside the kitchen. Baking a cake is a messy, messy process. Time to mix!

  BZZZ BZZZ.

  A bee flew in the sky, a bee flew….. The quiet zapping of a bee in the foreground, whilst the echoes of clattering screamed from the background.

  Amarze dropped the undead corpse, the loud whisker collapsing on the tiles. Skelsor’s facial plate was entirely removed— showcasing a bright cookie and cream flavoring inside his skull.

  “Now to find that goblin, who’!” Amarze clasped both hands together, he smashed his feet into the ground before.

  Propelling into the sky.

  He lingered above the world, breathing in the iron air. To him, it smelled like home.

  His body relaxed as he sighed, staring at the sun once more. The radiant undying sun of God glowed. Sun created by Samiel? Or was it created by Ezekiel?

  Questions linger but the showcase the answer demonstrates a willingness to succeed.

  Amarze snapped his head to the right, his eyes glimmered white as he saw rustling across the trees.

  Someone was running through.

  “The goblin….”

  The Saint lifted his arms in the sky— coating it in oxygen before slamming his feet on the air, leaning his body forward and soaring.

  He floated above the goblin, he travelled the distance at immeasurable speeds. He clawed at his neck, the sack around his head rustling against his ashy and scaly skin.

  “Such small amount of karma, as if I’m doing a good thing.” The Saint’s lip puckered as he floated into the leaves. Standing still as if a soldier— he is a soldier, he laid as he overhead the conversation Deb had with…

  an Imp lying on the floor.

  “The First Saint. Amarze. The Hero. We won’t survive unless—”

  “No.”

  Thud.

  Thud.

  Thud.

  “TORMENTIAAA!”

  From the faint view that was obscured from the trees, Amarze saw the Imp have a spasm. He was twitching on the ground, violently jerking as foam emitted from his jaw.

  Deb backed away, clutching against her hip as she trembled— sweat dripping across her paprika forehead as she shuddered.

  Falling onto the ground and attempting to retreat.

  “What the?”

  Amarze’s focus was drawn again to the Imp, they had grown in size. Now the size of the trees itself, as Deb was still attempting to move. Zero’s right leg shot up into the sky, before striking back down on her position.

  A large crunch sound floated throughout the world.

  Amarze shot out the leaves, floating in the sky with both of his hands clasped together as he stared above him.

  The Imp was the size of the planet.

  Their foot stood on the world itself.

  “How did it? How did this creature grow so fast!” Amarze roared.

  He stomped on the air itself once more, launching his body upward. A hot sensation echoing throughout his body as he soared higher and higher into the sky. “I thought they got rid of shit like this!” The Saint floated in the atmosphere, just now being able to view the torso of the Imp.

  “Now.”

  “ENCHANT!” Amarze screamed, shaking the planet as the Imp began to wobble. The Saint recoiled his right fist back, the distance metres away before lunging himself at lightspeed at the Imp’s chest. A black and crimson aura encircling him as his fist morphed into a ‘spear’.

  SQUELCH.

  His fist covered in a soft texture, the liquid spinning around his hand and circulating around. He opened his palm.

  “May God judge my wrath, for I am the judgment.” He whispered.

  The Ouroboros tattooed inside circulated at the same rhythm as the creamy cardinal blood spinning around his hands.

  Amarze looked at his left side, his eyes widened.

  With genuine intent.

  “It’s you.”

  In front of him was pure white glinting stars. It must’ve been night, his extermination had taken all day and yet he has not finished.

  Approximately only a million people out of a population of billions. The logic behind that statement yielding no sense, no continuity.

  “I thought the world was singular like most, then revealed it’s the shape of three planets— is it a revelation or a mistake.” Amarze stared at the stars. It spanned across all of space, all of time.

  All of us, we are stars.

  “A world of insanity. Whilst I am just a walking contradiction, a manipulatory tale of how one flew too high— an Icarus.” Amarze smiled, “Time flies when you have fun….”

  SLAM.

  Amarze touched down onto the ground— fist slamming into Invalia, the soft soil creating a symbol around his body.

  An Ouroboros.

  He stood up from his position, gently tilting his head upward to look at the black sky filled with the stars and the moon. They were all right.

  “Amarze.”

  That voice.

  The Saint snapped his body around facing where Zero once stood, in that place was a tall slender man dressed in an all black trench coat.

  “Don’t tell me you forgot to check in with me after I almost killed you! YOU DAMN IDIOTIC PIECE OF SHIT, AMARZE JUDAE!” Asura yelled as he grabbed his chest, his hair jolting upwards as a black mystique enveloped his arms, a scythe dropping into his right arm. Gripping onto the chine of the scythe, blood emerging from his palm as his grasp never faltered.

  “ASURA! LET ME GUESS. BEHIND ME IS THAT STUPID FUCKING IMP BASTARD NAMED THE SIN OF SLOTH!” Amarze stomped his foot down, the shockwave trembling across the planet as a shadow flung out from behind the Saint’s back.

  Masalor giggled.

  “You look disappointed.” The Imp smiled as he turned and looked at Zero’s presumed dead body.

  “Did you kill my own?”, His voice soft but sinister.

  “You pathetic imitation of sins! Even the demons I’ve slain remember to kneel before holiness!”

  “There’s only one of us now.” Masalor laid his head on Asura’s shoulder, who was fiddling his fingers. He outreached is right palm and an iron sledge-hammer flew into his palms. “What are you going to do about it, con-man?”“THEN I’LL MAKE IT AN EXTINCT SPECIES!” Amarze clasped his hands together, pushing his back up before roaring.

  “ENCHANT!”

  The air ruptured. The sky turned inside out. And Invalia, for the first time in twenty years, saw the face of the Saint who had forgotten mercy.

  And only knew DECIMATION.

  AMARZE THE DECIMATOR IS BORN.

  AMARZE THE DECIMATOR IS BORN.

  AMARZE THE DECIMATOR IS BORN.

  Thank you for reaching the end of this chapter!

  A lot went down, and from here the story begins to accelerate even faster. Every character is being tested, and every decision is reshaping the world around them.

  If you have thoughts, theories, or reactions, I’d love to hear them, comments genuinely help the story grow. If you’re enjoying things, don’t forget to follow the series so you don’t miss upcoming updates.

  More chaos awaits next chapter, "Chapter 85: Genocide Part Two."