Deep within the heart of the ancient temple, where even the torches dimmed and the walls breathed like sleeping giants, a group of cultivators cautiously moved through a narrow passage. Their steps echoed against the jagged stone, creating a haunting rhythm in the silence of the forgotten ruin. The air was cold, unnaturally so, as if something within the stone itself drained warmth from the living.
Among the group, one young cultivator—nervous and tense—noticed a faint shimmer ahead. A soft glint, like light reflecting off a blade, quickly vanishing into the shadows. He blinked, rubbed his eyes, and whispered, "Did you see that?" But the others had moved on, searching the area for spiritual artifacts and clues.
Drawn by morbid curiosity, the young man stepped forward, his breathing shallow, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword. As he crept closer to the mysterious shimmer, the air around him grew heavier, and he realized the silence wasn't just oppressive—it was unnatural. No echo returned. No breath of wind. Even the spiritual energy around him began to flicker like a dying flame.
Suddenly—SPLASH!
A razor-sharp appendage, long as a spear and jagged like a demon's claw, shot out from the darkness and pierced straight through his chest, lifting him from the ground like a rag doll. The young cultivator's eyes went wide with shock as blood gushed from his mouth, his sword falling from his hand with a dull clang.
From the shadows emerged a grotesque monstrosity—a beast born of nightmare and corruption. Its body was hunched, armored with hardened black scales that pulsed with crimson veins. It had six glowing eyes, each burning like molten lava, scanning in all directions. Its two tails writhed like serpents, ending in bony stingers dripping with poison. Its four muscular arms, two longer than the others, twitched unnaturally, clawed fingers twitching in anticipation.
The beast's head was worst of all—elongated, almost skull-like, with a mouth that split open vertically to reveal rows upon rows of jagged, needle-thin teeth. Its breath reeked of death, and when it opened its mouth, the sound it made was like a hundred babies crying in reverse—a sound that clawed at the sanity of anyone who heard it.
The cultivator, still skewered, looked down in horror as the creature's jaw extended.
With a sickening chomp, the beast bit down on his head, crushing skull and brain in a single motion. The body twitched violently before falling limp. Blood sprayed in the air and splattered the stone walls.
The rest of the group, hearing the sound, turned—but it was already too late. The monstrous thing had already melted into the shadows, dragging the mutilated body with it. All that remained was the scent of blood and an eerie growl that echoed through the corridor.
One of the surviving cultivators whispered, trembling, "What was that…?"
Another replied, voice shaking, "That was no beast… That was something that should never have woken."
Far above, in the upper levels of the temple, a forgotten glyph faintly glowed red—a warning seal once meant to keep horrors like that imprisoned… was beginning to crack.
In the suffocating gloom of the temple's lower levels, where even spirit light flickered uncertainly and the air carried the stench of age-old blood and decay, a group of cultivators stood frozen—paralyzed by the recent, horrifying death of their comrade. The mangled remains, half-consumed and dragged into the darkness, had left their minds rattled and hearts pounding with dread.
One cultivator, though trembling with fear, steeled his nerves. His breathing was sharp and shallow, sweat dripped down his brow, and his hand clenched tightly around his weapon—a curved saber that shimmered faintly with embedded spiritual runes. He whispered a silent prayer and stepped forward, determined to either confirm the threat or die with honor.
As he crossed the boundary where the last attack had occurred, the shadows thickened around him—as if the darkness itself resented the intrusion.
Then—
FWISH!
A sudden gust of wind—no, not wind… something faster, colder, sharper.
A spike-like limb, black and serrated, shot out from the shadows like a bolt of death. It cut through the air with a shrill sound, aimed directly at the cultivator's heart.
With a yell fueled by desperation and sheer instinct, the cultivator twisted his body, just narrowly avoiding the fatal blow. The blade-like appendage sliced his robe and grazed his shoulder, leaving a trail of blood as he tumbled back with a skillful flip, barely landing on his feet. He gasped in pain but lived.
That's when it happened.
A roar erupted from the darkness—monstrous, guttural, and ancient. It was the kind of sound that clawed at the soul and made hearts falter. A sound that told every listening creature: You are prey.
The beast emerged fully from the shadow, illuminated in the flickering light like a nightmare given flesh. Its grotesque body was at least four meters tall, covered in coarse, obsidian-black scales. Each step it took cracked the stone beneath its claws. Its six eyes, glowing like molten coals, locked onto the cultivators with a hunger that was more than physical. It was as if the beast fed on fear itself.
Suddenly, with lightning speed, it whipped one of its dual tails—which ended in a long, bladed hook—toward the cultivator who had just dodged. But the tail veered midair and struck a different target: another cultivator who hadn't even drawn his weapon yet.
SLASH!
The tail carved straight through his torso like paper. Blood sprayed across the walls and floor, his body falling into two twitching halves before he could even scream. His companions screamed instead—some in fear, others in rage.
Chaos erupted.
The remaining cultivators scrambled for position. A few drew their weapons, attempting to form a formation. One unleashed a flame talisman, hurling it at the beast, while another began chanting a defensive barrier.
But it wasn't enough.
The beast charged, moving far faster than anything that massive should. Its arms lashed out, each ending in clawed hands strong enough to crush stone. It smashed through their formation like a battering ram.
A third cultivator was grabbed and thrown into the ceiling—his body crunching against the stone, bones breaking audibly. He fell back to the ground, unmoving.
The flames from the talisman singed the creature's hide but didn't slow it down. If anything, it angered it. It roared again, louder this time, shaking dust loose from the temple's ceiling. The ancient walls groaned, as if even they feared what now stalked them.
In the far corner, the brave cultivator who had first stepped forward watched with wide eyes, his saber still trembling in his grip. He realized something horrifying.
"This... This isn't a spirit beast," he whispered. "This is something… older. This thing was sealed here… for a reason."
The other survivors backed toward the corridor they had come from, desperate to escape. But behind them, the shadows stirred again. The temple… was awakening.
And this monster was not the only thing that had been waiting for blood.
In the death-soaked corridors of the ancient temple, where the scent of rotting blood and burning talismans mingled in the air like a curse, chaos had turned into carnage. Screams echoed endlessly, rising and falling like a doomed chorus.
The monstrous six-eyed beast had already slaughtered many. Its bladed tails spun like scythes, its claws tore through barriers, flesh, and stone. Cultivators tried to run, fly, scream for help—but nothing mattered. The beast was faster than their thoughts, more savage than nightmares.
Blood coated the temple walls. Pieces of broken weapons and torn limbs lay scattered like discarded toys. It was no longer a battle. It was a massacre.
Among the panic-stricken survivors, the very first cultivator who had dared approach the shadows was now fleeing with everything he had. His breath came in ragged gasps. His robes were torn, soaked in the blood of his comrades, and his spirit energy was barely holding together.
He didn't look back—because he could still hear it. The sound of heavy footsteps, claws scraping, and monstrous snarls following him.
But then—
THUD.
He slammed into something. His body rebounded and he fell hard onto the stone floor. Disoriented and in pain, he groaned and slowly looked up… and what he saw froze his soul.
Another one.
Standing before him, half-shrouded in the darkness of the hallway, was a second beast. It was nearly identical—but larger, and somehow even more terrifying. It too had six burning eyes, two massive tails, and four limbs that ended in jagged, talon-like claws. But unlike the first beast, this one grinned.
Yes—grinned.
Its sharp, yellowed teeth stretched across a grotesque jaw that split unnaturally. And as it looked down at the fallen cultivator, it raised one of its needle-like claws, observing it with eerie fascination. Slowly, deliberately, it scratched the stone wall, the sound like nails across bone.
Then, it turned that claw to the cultivator's body.
"NNNOOOOO!"
The man tried to crawl away, kicking frantically on the floor. But the beast stepped on his leg, snapping it instantly. The sound of bone breaking was sharp and wet.
Then the true horror began.
With precise, slow movements, the beast began to peel.
It inserted one of its claws into the flesh of the cultivator's stomach, not stabbing, but slicing horizontally with surgical cruelty. The cultivator's screams rang through the temple like a death bell. The beast, unfazed, began pulling the skin back, tearing it inch by inch, savoring the sight. Blood gushed like a fountain, pooling across the cracked stones.
The man's voice turned into gurgles.
Then the beast opened its mouth. From within, a thick, greenish-black fluid began to drip—acid, oozing and bubbling as it fell onto the freshly exposed flesh. As it touched the raw inner skin, it began to sizzle and burn, releasing a foul, smoke-like mist. The cultivator writhed, convulsed violently as the acid ate through muscles, nerves, and bones. His eyes rolled back.
But the beast wasn't done.
It licked the wounds.
Not to heal—but to taste.
Then, slowly, the creature sank its fangs into his chest, cracked open his ribs, and began devouring him alive—munching, chewing, crunching. Each bite was filled with blood and agony.
Behind it, the first beast arrived again, blood dripping from its claws, nodding to its kin.
The two horrors stood together, towering over the remains of their prey, their mouths soaked in gore, their tails twitching.
And somewhere, deeper in the temple, a third roar echoed.
Something else had awakened.