The last rites of the dim light that rained inside from the retreating sun vanished.
Darkness fell. Total and complete.
His eyes adjusted slowly to the church's dim interior. Only a few scattered candles still burned, their flames flickering like dying whispers.
He glanced around the massive space. The stained-glass windows had been smeared over in thick blood, deliberate, calculated. Light was not welcome here. This was its domain.
With a quick glance upwards, he admired the vaulted stone ceilings supported by the gothic arches and wooden rafters high above.
Where is this bastard hiding? he thought, exhaling through his nose.
Then, he looked up again — towards the high-up wooden rafters, hoping to catch a glance of this creature.
And there it was.
"What in the actual f-Fuck is that?"
The creature was between 3–4 meters tall. It had an uncanny look to it. It was humanoid, but its anatomy didn't follow logic. It was a mix between some wendigo monster and a starved, burnt demon.
Its skin was slick and black as tar, no fur, no feathers, no scales. Just raw, scorched hide.
This thing doesn't follow Darwin's theory, Victor thought grimly.
The wooden rafter that was high up snapped in the middle—directly underneath the creature.
Not because of its weight.
'This anorexic fucker really just jumped to another rafter'. the sheer force of its jump causing the original wooden rafter to shatter at its weakest point. A chunk of it broke off and tumbled downward.
Victor took a slow, deep breath.
Dust fell from the ceiling like a soft avalanche, fine particles spilling into the air, descending toward him.
Just as the dust reached above his head, did Victor close his eyes.
'You might think this is a dumb thing to do. Why would I close my eyes when there's a rabid monster on the loose?'
Victor was always a troubled person, the type of person who had talked to himself when no one else was looking.
"If I can't see through the dust," he whispered, "then that bastard can't either. Fair game once it clears."
Victor didn't realize it at the time, but this slowly turned into a coping mechanism. Turning fear into dialogue. Narrating chaos so he didn't feel alone.
'The best friend that can't leave you is your own internal monologue ahaha'
"God, I should be a comedian…"
The stench of blood, dust, wood, and old candle wax fought for dominance in his nose, each one choking and distinct.
Thirty seconds passed.
Victor slowly opened his eyes.
He scanned the rows of prayer benches long abandoned and spotted a pattern: a strange slithering trail cutting through the soot, leading toward the staircase up to the balcony section.
The path looked… wrong.
It wasn't just footprints or blood. It was a bubbly, sticky mess of soot and coagulated gore. Some parts had hardened. Others still dripped, blood droplets preserved like jellyfish in orbs of black dust.
That's why there were no bodies when I came in. Just the stench. It ate them all-or melted them into paste.
He narrowed his eyes toward the stairs. 'If this thing thinks I'm going to follow the oddly specific blood trail that leads up stairs, it's got another thing coming.'
Victor scoffed.
The dust still lingered in the air slightly, obscuring his vision. The creature was most likely watching from up there, waiting, calculating.
Victor coughed.
'You know what.. I'm just going to wait for this to clear up a bit.'
He walked back toward the entrance, casual as ever, and found a seat in the last row of pews. He sat down, left foot flat on the ground, right leg casually propped across his left leg's knee. Leaning back to relax, his right hand hovered over the ignition-sheathed sword.
If someone were watching, they'd think he was playing a weird game of medieval Twister on a prayer bench.
Ten minutes passed.
The dust had mostly cleared.
Victor returned to a standing posture, he slowly walked down the center aisle towards the altar, boots echoing against the stone floor.
After about eight meters, he stopped behind the semi shattered rafter. He looked in the 3 o'clock direction towards the balcony, which was five meters above the ground floor. The balcony could accommodate thirty people walking around comfortably.
"I don't know if you understand English, you anorexic fucker," Victor called up casually, "but I ain't taking the stairs."
He unzipped his pants.
Out came Little Victor.
'Oldest trick in the book to pissing off any creature is marking your territory on theirs.'
He let loose, aiming high.
"Pun not intended," he muttered.
Drip — Drip — Drip
Victor didn't know at the time, but the creature had been watching him the full time since he entered. It saw through the dust with no issue. It could smell the scents: wax, wood, blood, dust, stone and track their differences like a spider navigating its web.
Normally, it would've torn a fool like this to pieces on sight.
The monster grimaced.
But something about him… threw it off.
It watched the 6-foot tin can idiot close his eyes calmly in the smokescreen.
It's smokescreen.
Open them again, unbothered. It watched him sit down in the last row, like he was waiting for a service to start.
It felt… threatened?
The monster wasn't smart in the human sense. But it absorbed a sliver of intelligence from everything it devoured. Not enough for reason, just instinct. And those instincts were screaming.
The boy's sword… it didn't like that sword.
It kept observing the tin can boy slowly walk upto the fallen rafter before looking at its general direction on the balcony.
The standoff between the 4-meter-tall demonic wendigo and the idiot in steel dragged on.
Then it saw him unzip.
And pee.
On the floor.
In its church.
It didn't know why it got annoyed seeing such liquid but it knew it was provocation and it knew it couldn't let it slide.
Victor blinked. "You admiring the view? Anorexic fuck."
With one hand, he packed Little Victor away and buttoned up.
'This is a bit awkward with one hand.'
The creature still hadn't moved, Still hidden behind the bannister. Victor scowled, about to shout again— Slick, wet footsteps echoed across the balcony. The creature stepped into view, looming over the edge of the bannister.