Forsaken Hunter-Chapter 22: The Crying Monster

Beno's boots landed with a heavy thud against the damp floor, the stale air reeking of rusted metal and something far worse—rot and sorrow. The tunnel was dim, flickering lights swinging weakly above, casting long, shifting shadows on the curved, stone walls. Luna and Charles followed close behind, their footsteps hesitant, quiet.

This place wasn't normal.

It wasn't just hidden.

It felt wrong.

The kind of wrong that seeps into your skin. Like the air itself didn't want them there.

Suddenly, a sound echoed through the corridor—a wet dragging noise, heavy and unnatural. Something was coming.

Then it emerged from the darkness.

A towering creature, limping forward on crab-like legs, its hulking frame scraping against the stone walls. Chitinous plates covered its twisted body, glistening like wet armor. Its arms were long and jagged, ending in sharp, claw-like extensions that looked like they could rip through steel. It had a humanoid shape, but only just—the proportions were all wrong. Warped.

Its face was hidden behind a thick layer of growth... except for the mouth, where teeth were too many, and too sharp.

Beno froze.

Luna's voice broke the silence.

"We have to fight that thing."

Charles stepped back, eyes wide, terror clutching his throat.

"No need," he said quickly. "I can burn it alive. Right here."

He raised his hands, flames already flickering between his fingertips.

But Luna slapped his wrist down.

"Idiot! You can't use fire magic in here!"

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Charles blinked, stunned.

"Why not?!"

"This whole place reeks of natural gas. You blow a single spark, this entire tunnel goes with it—and us!"

Her voice was sharp, commanding.

Beno felt his heart skip. She was right. That bitter scent wasn't just rot—it was gas, leaking through unseen crack and from bodies and bones . A spark could kill them all.

"Same goes for lightning," Luna added, glancing at Beno. "No spells. We fight this thing clean."

The creature shrieked. A horrible, warbled cry, like metal bending under pressure.

Luna didn't wait.

She stepped forward, blade in hand. Wind gathered silently around it, forming a thin, invisible edge

"Silent Cut," she whispered.

She moved like wind—quick, almost invisible. A blur passed the creature's midsection, and then... the top half of its body slid away from the bottom.

The head dropped to the floor with a dull thud.

It was over.

Or so Beno thought.

He took a step forward to look closer. But when his eyes landed on the severed head, his stomach twisted into a knot.

"Wait..."

He crouched, trembling.

"That's a face. A—human face..."

Charles laughed nervously.

"What are you even talking about?"

But Luna had already seen it too.

Her sword clattered to the ground.

"Oh gods..."

The creature's face, beneath all the grotesque deformation—beneath the layers of hardened flesh and warped tissue—was a baby. The features were small. The mouth was rounded. The eyes wide and innocent, though lifeless now.

It hadn't just looked human.

It was human.

Something twisted, something broken. Something turned into this.

Then the body twitched.

And the crying began.

"Ma... mama... Mamaaa..."

A high-pitched, trembling voice echoed through the hall.

Beno froze.

The monster—the child—was still alive. Even without its head, the body writhed, reaching out blindly, letting out that soft, pitiful cry.

"Mama... mama..."

He felt something shatter inside.

His breath left him in a choked gasp.

It was a child. A victim.

And they'd killed it.

Luna fell to her knees, her hands trembling.

"I didn't even... I didn't check. I just—"

She couldn't finish.

Beno stared at the twitching remains, rage curling in his chest like poison.

"Who did this...?"

Charles kept his distance, eyes fixed on the still-twitching body.

> "We need to move," he said quietly. "If something this twisted is wandering around, then whatever made it... might come looking."

Beno didn't move. He just stared.

The monster's limbs twitched weakly, reaching toward the walls like it was still searching for its mother. That sound—*mama... mama*—echoed again, softer this time, gurgling from the severed throat like the last breath of a curse.

It was the most pitiful thing Beno had ever heard.

> "This isn't a lab," he muttered, more to himself than to the others. "It's a... it's a Swear."

Luna looked up, still pale. Her voice was barely above a whisper.

> "A cursed holy site..."

Beno nodded slowly, his expression hardening as it all began to piece together. The unnatural silence. The gas. The twisted architecture. The symbols they hadn't noticed until now—etched into the walls like old prayers rewritten in madness. This wasn't a place for experiments.

This was a place where people made **promises to something unholy**.

Where rituals were performed.

Where **humanity was broken**.

> "They didn't just make a monster," Beno said. "They offered* someone. A child."

His hands clenched into fists.

Luna tried to wipe her blade clean, but it was shaking in her grasp. She dropped it again.

> "I didn't look... I should've—"

> "Stop," Beno said, his voice suddenly calm. Too calm.

It was the kind of quiet that comes before a storm.

> "They did this."

He stood slowly, eyes burning with something deeper than anger. A cold, controlled fury that felt alien in his chest. Until now, he'd been cautious. Passive. Even afraid.

But this...

This crossed a line.

> "I'm not going to forgive them."

His voice trembled—not from fear, but from the effort of holding himself back.

> "Whoever you are... whoever did this... I'll kill you."

Charles was already moving, checking the dark corridors for movement.

> "Hate later. We leave now."

Beno turned and followed, Luna stumbling after them with hollow eyes. They moved fast, retracing their path through the cracked corridors, up rusted stairs and crumbling ladders. The walls seemed to watch them go, as if the Swear itself remembered every face it had swallowed.

They burst through the final metal door and into the dying light of evening. The outside world felt too quiet, too normal, like it didn't know what was festering beneath its skin.

The trio climbed into the old, dusty car they'd hidden near the dumpyard entrance.

None of them spoke.

But as the engine started and the tires rolled over gravel, Beno's eyes caught something in the rearview mirror.

Figures.

People in black, unloading something from a covered truck near the same entrance they had just escaped from. Cold, clean, efficient. They moved like soldiers—but not the kind that wore uniforms.

They were unpacking bodies

Small ones.

Dozens.

Beno's breath caught.

This wasn't just one child.

This was a system.

And they'd only scratched the surface.

His hands tightened on the seat, jaw clenched.

> "This isn't over," he whispered.