Carn, Predator of Predators

Rank: A19

Affiliation: None

Power: A19

Constitution: A11

Agility: S4

Magick: S3

Carn cackled. “I know you’re impressed, White Eyes. Now stand back and watch a real Slayer at work.”

With a flutter of his fingers, the fourth dagger, the one embedded in the Wolva’s neck, was recalled, re-entering the halo-ring of magical steel. Four daggers revolved around Carn, quadruplets of bloodstained predators levitated by some sort of magic, or was it telekinesis?

Whatever it was, Alexander couldn’t ascertain an answer. He was pulled behind the receptionist’s counter, dragged by Leona and Kirk, and they took cover for the fight ahead. He felt hands tugging at his collar, loosening the knot on his crusted black tie. The hands were frustrated, and they decided to tear his right sleeve open to get to his shoulder. Ruthlessly, they began disinfecting his injury.

He hissed. “Easy!”

“Stay still,” Leona said with a growl in her voice. Alexander wasn’t going to die at this minute, but with a tone like that, he would in the next if he didn’t listen.

Alexander winced, looking over the receptionist desk to watch the fight.

The Wolva stood on its two quaking legs, standing, towering, glowering at the small human below, ignoring the tiny scratch on its neck. Carn didn't cower, not at all. His hands did not shake from the cold of fear; they were quite warm in his pockets. He cocked his head back because the Wolva’s breath stunk like shit. Above all, he steeled his lips with a grin as wide as wounds.

The foul beast raised its claws, held them high like dangling swords, and bellowed so loud that the hanging lights rocked and the bricks cried. Alexander felt his heart leap even though he was no longer fighting.

But Carn laughed. “Is that it?!” His laugh was not nearly as great as the Wolva’s. It paled in volume, but in his voice was a promise—better yet, a guarantee, a prophecy foretold by his title: You will be hunted.

And the Wolva understood. It fully intended to break his promise and break him in two. With its right claw, it meteored down at a near-imperceptible speed, all five talons dug deep into the floor. Hunched over, there was a little rapping against its skull. A little tapping, nothing more.

“What’s up?” said Carn, nothing more. He waved, standing proudly on its back. And there was that grin. That proud, killing grin.

Roaring something fierce, the enraged thing launched its left arm back and gutted air, tore out nothing and grabbed emptiness, then it roared again, something painful. Several cuts stung its other arm, the stuck one. They littered its dirty skin and made it ooze dark, dark blood. When was the last time it bled like this?

Break him! it must have thought, and its red eyes glowed. Break him! Break the human! It gnarled and snarled. Break him! Tear him! Gut him! It grew. The rags it wore ripped, now practically nude if it wasn’t for its hair. Every bone and muscle expanded in relation to its rage: larger, faster, stronger. It was the pleasure of its skill. Its right arm freed itself; now, where was he?

“You done yet?” There he was, impertinent thing. He leaned against an engaged pillar, yawning. He played around with a dagger, flipping it around his hand and doing some silly tricks. Over and under, around and around, spinning and twirling, what did he take this fight as? No matter, he will take punishment.

In a single bound, it reached over and cleaved the pillar in half, concrete and rebar flying everywhere that Alexander and the others had to duck in order to avoid the debris. But the important one, Carn, he was still whole. He was missing.

A series of three thuds impacted the Wolva’s back and each were taken out by an invisible hand. Behind then, he was behind. Before Carn could taunt, it rotated back and made a wide, terrifyingly wide swipe from horizon to horizon. A black flash met white, and blood spilled, and a roar came after.

A bleeding X was carved into the Wolva’s chest, and Carn held two of his precious daggers. “Seriously? Never thought an A5 would be so slow.”

It was Carn’s turn to hunt, so hunt he did. The Wolva was undeterred from its fresh scar—furious more like—and pounced, vengeful. Carn came between its legs, and two more beautiful spurts of blood rose from its tendons. It kicked, lashed out from behind and found a dagger in the meat of its thigh.

“Haha!” gleed the Predator of Predators and lacerated a painting of large strokes into the Wolva’s back, carved its flesh something good. Once more, it reached around and found absence, only to see Carn standing face-to-face.

A black claw glimmered, and a palm came down to crush him, smash him into paste, but it found its palm was stuck to the ground, a dagger impaling it, the hilt kissing flesh. It tried again and was impaled once more, both of its killing weapons dominated by nothing more than a knife.

“Wow!” said Carn, disappointed, but he enjoyed the hatred within the Wolva’s wolven eyes. “Is that it?!” His right arm became a blur, and slashes came to existence all over. “You’re a pathetic excuse for an A-Rank!” More and more. “I’m not even trying and I already made you kneel!” More and more and more. “C’mon, you already used [Enrage], surely y’got something else for me?!”

The Wolva grunted, grunted with a tone of voice so fierce that the sound alone could kill a man. Because it was taunted, it was humiliated by this small, small man, because it bled. No more, it must have thought. No more will it suffer the defeat of pride. It cared not for its own blood, it cared only for the blood of others! Life was blood, so he must take life!

It stood. Carn recalled his weaponry back. They did not slide out of their homes however; no, they came through the other end, but the Wolva continued to ignore the damage. Because, a red aura engulfed its frame, and crimson was the light in the darkness of its eyes.

Carn whistled. “Finally, I made you interesting.”

[Enrage] was used, so this must be the [Pride of Wolva]. Carn was the white blur, the Wolva too became a phantom of black. Its strike was a twisted dark crescent torrenting the ground, and Carn leapt back, a thrill beating life in his heart.

“Oh yeah, now you’re interesting! How does it feel, bastard?! C’mon, show me, ugly fucker!” Carn howled as the Wolva approached.

It swung and swung, too fast for Alexander’s eyes to register, too fast for anyone to register other than the two hunters. So fast, so numerous, that it was now impossible to tell how many attacks occurred and how many times Carn retreated—no, he didn’t retreat, he was watching. Each and every time, Carn darted back, untouched, merely touched in the chest, enjoying the danger of death, close and ravenous.

“C’mon, man! C’mon!” Carn said, rolling underneath a blur of its arm. Then, he jumped on two of his daggers, one for each foot, and he too levitated. “C’mon, come get me!”

The Wolva reached the peak of its speed. No longer did it confine itself to the floor. It jumped on the walls, jumped on any platforms to reach the flying man and cleave him. But not once did a single black thorn connect. It leapt from end to end, from ceiling to floor, even finding itself above Alexander and the rest, all to sink its teeth in the man.

But the man was too quick, too agile. On his daggers, he was unbelievably deft. Carn spun circles around the Wolva, shouting profanities and awful things. One second, he was on the far end; the next, he was on the other end, soaring and spinning rings around the poor monster, who kept incessantly chasing him to all corners of the lobby. It destroyed everything in its path until the once-familiar hall was ruined beyond repair.

Alexander couldn’t tell when white trails began to appear, but he knew what they were: daggers. Carn continued to spur the Wolva to hurt him. Every failed attempt gave it wounds. Long, river-like wounds from its legs to its arms to its chest and to its head. At one point, Alexander was certain that one of its were sliced open. At another, he found that its left hand had three fingers remaining.

It was whittled down and down, but it refused to slow down for a single instance, yet it cannot go faster than it already could. It had reached a hard wall and that Slayer was on the other side, mocking it, laughing, jeering him for being a failure of a predator. So continuously, it was cut deeper and deeper until black smears became red.

As all things, the Wolva reached its limit.

Ironically enough, starting at the same place Alexander stood, thinking it would be his death, the Wolva fell to two knees, more blood than skin.

“Is that it?” asked Carn with a fury, touching the ground with his two feet. “Is that seriously it? Are you kidding me? Are you fucking kidding me?!”

He threw open his jacket and out came six more children-daggers, totaling to ten. “Fucking useless piece of shit, I’ll kill you then! I’ll fucking kill you!”

The Wolva did not respond. It did not even react. It knelt there, defeated.

Carn engulfed it in a blizzard of steel. Ten daggers indulged and created a bright cloud of mayhem. A horrible droning sound filtered throughout the space as though a swarm of wasps descended on the Wolva. Within just a few seconds, there wasn't a single unbloodied spot.

“DIE!” yelled Carn; however, the Wolva was already dead. He kicked its corpse over, took two of his weaponry, mounted and stabbed it repeatedly for what seemed to be an eternity. In and out. In and out. Blood was his fuel to kill, it seemed.

Carn breathed in and out, finally realizing that his prey was long dead and he long won, but he was pissed. He didn’t get what he was looking for: something excitable. Something that could kill him and he could smile while death was a razor’s edge away.

He wiped the blood from his cheek, leaving streaks striping down his psychotic visage. Carn saw the three, and Alexander was the first to stand, his right shoulder wrapped in gauze. “White Eyes, the fuck you want?“

…I need to get rid of this guy. “Thanks. You saved our asses.”

Leona grabbed his arm. She whispered, “Alex, that man is ins—“

“You have a skill, right? That lets you find high-ranked bastards like the Wolva?”

Carn shrugged, stepping off the corpse. “You’re smarter than you look. Yeah, lucky you. My [Predator Sense] is the reason why you’re still alive—“ he squinted, “—Alexander Shen, Survivor of Hangzhou. Haha, that must be why you’re an E6.” He looked at Kirk. “Roswell Kirk, just some random old man.”

Kirk rolled his eyes.

Finally, Leona. Alexander motioned for her to stay behind him, a gesture that made Carn smirk. “Leona Ahn, Child of Hwaseong Heavens. I remember Hwaseong; I liked them. I killed my time reading murim shit, heavenly demons and all that. Too bad your parents bit the dust.”

Leona gritted her teeth; Alexander was worried she would say something unnecessary, but she knew holding her tongue back was best. “Are you a part of a guild? You’re not Angels.”

Carn wiped the flat of his daggers on his jacket. “Nah, solo. I don’t wanna be tied down. Senior Slayers are the worst; they holler at ya, yell at ya. ‘Do this!’ ‘Do that!’ Wonder what they’ll do with a knife up their throat, haha.”

Kirk whispered to them, “How are we telling him to fuck off?”

Alexander said to Carn, “Yeah yeah… Hey, what’s your plans after this—?

Something came down the emergency stairs.

Carn sent a dagger to the open door, the tip against a man with dark skin.

Damien. “Oh shi—!” He raised his hands. “I see you have help already!”

Carn glared at Alexander. “He one of yours, White Eyes?”

Alexander stared at Damien. He wanted to say “No.” just to have a laugh, but Carn was insane enough to kill him right then and there. “Yup. He’s one of mine.”

Carn retracted the dagger, and Damien could breathe again. He leaned against a nearby chair, feeling for his neck. “Good God, okay! I’m glad you’re alright though! Do you know how long it took for me to run down these stairs? Too long… Way too long…”

Carn huffed. “I’m not planning on staying here and be your bodyguard, but for courtesy's sake, y’think you can survive? What’s your plan?”

“Well, we’re not you,” Alexander said. “We can’t walk around downtown and not expect trouble; there’s a tunnel underneath us leading to a side road. We’ll escape through there.”

“A tunnel?” inquired Carn. “What kind of boring old office building has a tunnel? What is this fucking place anyway—“

Kirk tugged Alexander’s arm. “That's our cue to leave.”

Alexander nodded, looking at both Damien and Leona to relay the same message. The four of them bolted to the emergency stairwell as Carn checked outside to find the name of the building.

Just as they reached the door, Carn called out to them, “Where the hell are you going, System Articles?! Isn’t that a trading company? Like, trading items and shit like that?”

Kirk shook his head. “Next door. It’s—“

“I think I need to be a good Slayer and ensure your safety,” he said, grinning deviously. “What do you say?”