Slazar had spent an uncertain span of time in the Flesh-City. He had grown used to the wails of souls echoing through its pulsating alleys. The cries no longer startled him—they were the lullabies of this forsaken place.
He remembered what Rahigh told him: To survive, he must master the Art of the Commandments.
He had spent countless hours meditating on the nature of the Commandments—what they were, what they wanted. Eventually, it stopped mattering. They were part of him now.
Suddenly, a fleshy abomination erupted from the ground behind him with a grotesque shriek. Slazar leapt to the side, landing hard on his feet, breath ragged. In an instant, he drew his Fleshblade, and with a whisper, activated the Butcher's Commandment.
He sprinted toward the creature as the whispers from the mouths on his sword grew louder—dozens, maybe hundreds—chanting in languages no soul should understand. He shut them out. Listening meant madness.
The beast's tendrils lashed at him in chaotic waves, but Slazar weaved between them with growing grace. As he closed the distance, he gathered the Screams of the Slain into the blade—and with one precise strike, unleashed them.
The monster collapsed in a twitching heap.
A slow clap echoed behind him.
Slazar turned, blade still humming with death. It was his Shadow, smiling with wicked approval.
"Well done. You're getting better at using the Butcher's Commandment," it said.
"Come. There's something I need to tell you."
The Fleshblade dissolved into steaming threads of red mist, vanishing from his hand.
Slazar followed the Shadow, asking, "When will I learn the other Commandments?"
The Shadow chuckled.
"Soon, Slazar... But first, you must understand your current task.
In seven days, you are to kill the High Priest of the Church of Blood— Grayson—and take from him the Commandment of Greed."
Slazar narrowed his eyes.
"You mean the same old man I saw in Rahigh's memories?"
The Shadow let out a sharp, guttural laugh.
"Yes, that bastard. Oh, and before you go dying like a fool, let me give you some knowledge about the Three Kingdoms... You'll need it."
But before he could continue, a familiar voice emerged behind them.
"Let me take it from here, my partner," Rahigh said as he stepped forward from the shadows.
The Shadow smirked.
"As you wish, partner."
Rahigh faced Slazar with calm, piercing eyes.
"I know this mission sounds impossible, but trust me it's not. Follow what I've taught you, and you'll have a chance… a real one… to return to your world."
Slazar froze.
"What…? You mean I can leave this hell?"
"Yes," Rahigh said solemnly.
"But not before you gather all seven Commandments. Only then will the gate open."
Rahigh stepped closer, his voice turning grim:
"Listen carefully. This world or rather, this continent is divided into three Kingdoms. Each Kingdom has its own Path… and its own Church. To make it simple for you, let me recite an old truth—one whispered in the blood-soaked corners of our land:"
"The Three Kings bear unbroken oaths, and blood that never dries."
"To the Saint-King… His Celestial Blades delivering judgment as if from gods without mercy."
"To the Beast-King… His Six Cataclysms tearing through the laws of reality as fangs rip through the flesh of fear."
"And to the slaughter -King… His Five Demons planting sin into the heart of time itself, so that the Altar may be born again."
A long silence followed.
The sky above the Flesh-City churned like a rotting womb. Something ancient watched from behind the clouds. Waiting.