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Far beyond the void of nothingness stands a desolate world, a massive sphere of crimson rock and eternal twilight. No star illuminates this realm, only the planet's own molten core and a blood red moon that casts shadows across landscapes scarred by eons of war.
Who created this hellscape? None remember, but the flowing rivers of lava and beaches of ash tell their own story. Here, even birth is a privilege, and survival depends on cunning, strength, and instincts.
On the volcanic shores, countless eggs rest among the ashes, remnants of fallen demons whose essence now nourishes the next generation. The air thrums with heat and reeks of sulfur, but to the natives of this world, it feels like home.
A hairline crack appears on one of the shells. A pale, pinkish hand emerges, trembling as it breaks free. This newborn demon differs from the typical crimson spawn, but shares their brutality and survival instincts.
Hunger drives the creature's first action. It devours its own shell with methodical precision, crunching each fragment between sharp teeth. With no protection left, the demon rolls in the surrounding ashes, coating its vulnerable skin in the protective dust that serves as natural camouflage.
Movement catches its attention, other eggs showing signs of hatching. The demon's instincts scream a simple truth: kill or be killed. It begins smashing nearby shells, seeking weaker prey to devour.
One egg cracks under the assault. Inside writhes a centipede-like creature with multiple legs and a barbed tail, a monster, driven by pure instinct and destined for the lower levels of the abyss. The demon snaps it in half without hesitation, swallowing both pieces in quick gulps.
Across the hatching grounds, similar scenes unfold. Some monsters prove stronger than their demonic counterparts, their exoskeletons and extra limbs giving them deadly advantages. The war for survival has already begun, but an even greater threat approaches.
Three hundred meters away, a massive predator stalks toward the nesting grounds. This creature, with its oversized snout and razor claws, is known among survivors as a hatchling hunter, capable of detecting newborns from vast distances.
The massacre begins as the hunter gulps down whole eggs and shreds the exoskeletons of emerging monsters. Demons and monsters scatter in all directions, some taking flight on leathery wings, others burrowing into the ash. Despite lacking any training, these newborns understand survival's fundamental rule: run or die.
Following one of the winged escapees, the scene expands to reveal the true nature of this world. Demons battling everywhere, small ones, large ones, and titans that shake the ground with their movements. The strangest part isn't the violence itself, but the twisted joy that lights their eyes during combat.
This endless war has raged for millions of years, its original cause forgotten by all. Yet they continue fighting with passionate enthusiasm, needing no words to declare their intent. Victory often proves meaningless, successful warriors frequently fall to ambushes moments after their triumph.
Some monsters form temporary alliances, creating hordes that benefit all members. But weakness, injury, or age quickly transforms allies into prey. The strong devour the weak without sentiment or hesitation.
Below, another monster approaches what appears to be a potential recruit. But as it draws closer, something changes. The creature's form shifts, becoming more humanoid, sporting reverse goat horns, blazing red eyes, and a predatory smile that stretches impossibly wide.
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## [Unknown POV]
'Yes, show me more confusion and helplessness. I'm going to break you apart and watch the light fade from your eyes.'
I snap the monster's neck with a sharp twist and use my claws to separate its head from its body. Blood sprays across my pale skin, but I don't mind, fresh meat is always worth the mess.
*Crunch. Crunch.*
'Tastes bland, but the insides are surprisingly juicy.'
After finishing my meal, I spot a large red demon in the distance, still hunting demonic rabbits and crushing them with his bare fists.
'I call these types 'Muscle Brutes.' They have minimal intelligence despite being demons, and they usually hunt demonic dodos, rabbits, and weak monsters.'
The worst part? They enjoy creating meat paste from their prey, wasting perfectly good ingredients by bashing them into mush.
'How could anyone waste such precious food by turning it into stupid paste? I just don't understand them.'
"Let's teach him a lesson."
My smile widens as I break into a sprint, closing the distance between us. This poor demon lacks awareness, eating with his back completely exposed.
I aim my claws for his head, but he senses the attack at the last moment and shifts aside. My strike hits his shoulder instead, shattering bone and drawing a scream of agony.
"Aghhhhhhh!"
'Now for my favorite part.'
I twist my embedded hand while using my other claw to punch through his chest. With a wet *thud*, his body collapses lifeless. I examine my blood-soaked hands and the half-ruptured heart still twitching in my grip.
"Thanks for the meal."
Without ceremony, I begin devouring the corpse. We demons can digest bones, but I prefer not to, they cause uncomfortable scraping in my throat.
'Yeah, I know they say "Eating one bone a day keeps your enemies at bay," but you can just devour them directly, right?'
'Whatever. I think my thoughts became weird after that trip.'
Feeling satisfied, I begin walking toward my home territory.
"Pretty good hunt for today."
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