Midnight had already passed.
The town had fallen completely silent beneath the dark sky, as if the entire world itself had stopped breathing. Only the cold wind moved through the empty streets, carrying dust and the faint smell of rain through the darkness. Most houses had already turned their lights off, while the few lanterns still burning near the roadside flickered weakly like they could die at any second.
And within that silence…
Three figures slowly walked toward the town.
Their appearance alone felt wrong.
Long black robes covered their entire bodies, the loose fabric moving slowly alongside the wind like shadows crawling through the night. Their faces remained completely hidden beneath deep hoods and dark cloth wrapped tightly around their heads. Nothing could be seen inside the darkness beneath those hoods.
No eyes.No skin.No expression.
It almost looked as if they didn't even have faces.
Heavy black gloves covered their hands, while strange ritual charms, tiny chains, and rusted metal symbols hung from their belts, producing faint metallic sounds with every step they took. Their old boots were stained with dried mud and dirt as though they had walked through countless places without stopping once.
The three cultists silently entered the town.
Not a single one of them spoke.
They simply observed everything around them calmly.
The lights.The people.The buildings.
Like predators entering unfamiliar territory.
Eventually, their steps stopped in front of a small roadside dhaba still open late into the night. Warm yellow light spilled softly from the wooden windows while the smell of tea and cooked food drifted outside into the cold air.
Without hesitation, the three cultists entered.
The moment they stepped inside, the atmosphere changed instantly.
Every single person inside the dhaba unconsciously stopped talking.
All eyes shifted toward the three dark figures standing near the entrance.
The room suddenly felt colder.
The cultists looked so unnatural that even their presence alone made people uncomfortable.
However, after a few seconds, everyone awkwardly looked away and pretended to continue eating like nothing had happened. Nobody wanted trouble.
A slightly chubby middle-aged man soon approached them with a gentle smile on his face. He was most likely the owner of the dhaba.
"Welcome," he said politely.
His voice carried nervousness despite the smile he tried maintaining.
He quickly pointed toward an empty table near the corner.
"You can sit there."
The three cultists silently walked toward the table without saying a single word before sitting down together.
The chubby man approached them once again after a moment.
"What would you like to order?" he asked respectfully.
One of the cultists slowly picked up the menu before speaking in a deep, unnaturally heavy voice.
"Ginger tea."
Just hearing that voice made the smile on the owner's face weaken slightly.
It didn't sound human.
Still, he quickly nodded before leaving.
A few minutes later, three cups were placed carefully in front of them while steam slowly rose from the tea.
"Please enjoy," the owner said politely with visible respect in his tone.
The cultists quietly took small sips from the tea.
They said nothing.
Yet after seeing them continue drinking peacefully, the owner understood they liked it. Relieved, he bowed his head slightly before returning to his work.
For a short while, everything remained calm.
Then suddenly—
The wooden door burst open violently.
A drunk man stumbled inside while holding a half-empty wine bottle in his hand. His face was red, his movements unstable, and his footsteps barely straight enough to keep himself standing.
"I'm not done drinking yet!" he shouted loudly while laughing to himself.
People inside the dhaba immediately looked annoyed.
The drunk man continued walking carelessly while taking another large sip directly from the bottle.
Then his body suddenly crashed against one of the cultists.
Tea spilled across the wooden table instantly.
The cultist remained completely motionless.
He didn't even look at the drunk man.
For a second, it almost seemed like he would ignore it entirely.
But the drunk man turned around angrily before grabbing the cultist's shoulder from behind.
"You damn weirdos…" he muttered drunkenly. "Don't you even know how to apologize?"
Still no response.
The cultist simply kept staring forward silently.
That silence only irritated the drunk man further.
Without warning, he suddenly smacked the back of the cultist's head.
"Do you even know who I am?" he barked proudly. "I'm the strongest hunter in this town."
As soon as he said that, he pulled out a dagger and placed it near the cultist's neck.
"Apologize. Then maybe I'll let you go."
The entire dhaba became tense instantly.
But the cultist… still didn't react.
Slowly, he stood up from his seat.
The drunk man smirked arrogantly, believing he had won.
Then suddenly—
A sharp metallic sound echoed through the room.
The drunk man froze.
His eyes widened slowly.
Because somehow… the dagger was no longer in his hand.
The cultist had already taken it.
No one even saw when it happened.
And before the drunk man could properly understand what had happened—
A single slash cut through the air.
Blood exploded everywhere.
The drunk man's entire arm fell onto the floor with a wet sound.
For a second, silence filled the dhaba.
Then the screaming began.
"AAAAAAHHHHHHH—!!"
The drunk man collapsed onto his knees while clutching the empty space where his arm once existed. Blood poured endlessly onto the floor beneath him.
The pain instantly forced the alcohol out of his system.
Fear replaced everything else in his eyes.
"Kill them!" he screamed desperately while pointing toward the cultists. "Kill all of them! I'll pay five gold coins!"
The hunters and mercenaries inside the dhaba immediately grabbed their weapons.
Swords.Axes.Daggers.
Several men rushed forward together.
Then the cultist moved.
One step.
That was all.
A silver flash crossed through the room.
Six heads flew into the air simultaneously.
Bodies collapsed a second later.
Blood splashed across the walls, tables, ceiling, and windows like buckets of red paint thrown violently throughout the room.
The cultist stood motionless in the middle of the slaughter while holding the dagger calmly at his side.
Like he had merely cut vegetables.
The remaining people froze completely.
Terror swallowed the room instantly.
The drunk man stared at the corpses with shaking eyes before screaming again.
"Ten gold coins!"
Panic spread everywhere afterward.
The remaining fighters charged desperately, hoping numbers would somehow save them.
But they were wrong.
Horribly wrong.
The cultist slaughtered them effortlessly.
Every movement looked smooth.Precise.Inhuman.
Heads rolled across the floor.Arms separated from bodies.Blood sprayed endlessly across the walls.
Screams filled the entire dhaba.
Yet throughout all of it…
The other two cultists simply sat quietly at the table while continuing to drink their tea peacefully.
As if the massacre behind them was nothing more than background noise.
The chubby owner hid beneath a table while trembling uncontrollably.
His breathing had completely broken.
Everywhere he looked, he saw severed limbs, torn flesh, and pools of blood spreading across the wooden floor.
Then suddenly—
A human head rolled directly in front of him.
Its face remained frozen in pure terror.
The owner nearly screamed.
But before the expression on his face could even fully change—
Another body crashed nearby violently.
The slaughter continued.
Eventually… silence returned once again.
Only dripping blood could be heard now.
The two seated cultists calmly finished the last sip of their tea before placing their cups back onto the table at the exact same moment.
Clack.
That small sound echoed strangely throughout the destroyed dhaba.
The cultist standing in the middle of the corpses slowly turned around afterward. His robes were now completely soaked in blood.
But none of it belonged to him.
The drunk man remained alive somehow.
Barely.
His entire body trembled violently as tears mixed together with blood on his face.
The cultist slowly walked toward him.
Every footstep sounded heavier than the last.
Then suddenly, the cultist grabbed the man by his remaining arm and lifted him into the air effortlessly.
The drunk man screamed in terror while kicking helplessly.
The cultist slowly pushed the dagger through the man's palm—
And pinned him directly against the wall like some grotesque decoration.
Blood poured down the wood instantly.
The cultist leaned closer afterward.
Long black nails slowly moved across the man's neck almost gently.
Then—
Slice.
The throat opened completely.
Blood streamed downward in thick waves while choking sounds escaped the man's mouth.
A single drop of blood fell onto the floor.
Drip.
The cultist finally turned away.
Behind him, the dead hunter remained hanging against the wall like a broken puppet.
The three cultists prepared to leave afterward.
But before exiting, the one responsible for the massacre suddenly stopped near the chubby owner hiding beneath the table.
The poor man immediately lowered his forehead to the ground while shaking violently.
"I-I'm sorry… please… please don't kill me…"
Again and again, he begged desperately for mercy.
The cultist silently stared at him for a few seconds.
Then unexpectedly…
He placed six silver coins into the owner's trembling hands.
Afterward, the cultist calmly walked toward the dead drunk man, searched through his pockets, and pulled out several gold coins stained with blood.
"Only eleven," he muttered disappointedly.
He handed those coins to the owner as well.
The owner couldn't even understand what was happening anymore.
His body continued shaking uncontrollably while tears streamed down his face.
Without another word, the three cultists walked toward the exit together in a straight line.
The wooden gate slowly closed behind them.
Creak…
The moment they disappeared outside—
The owner finally screamed in absolute horror.
His terrified cries echoed throughout the empty street outside while blood slowly flowed out from beneath the dhaba's door and spread across the road like a dark river.
Meanwhile, the three cultists continued walking deeper into the night.
The one who had slaughtered everyone casually licked the blood from his finger before speaking with clear satisfaction in his heavy voice.
"That was entertaining."
A faint laugh escaped beneath his hood afterward.
"I'm satisfied now."
And slowly…
The three dark figures disappeared completely into the darkness.