The Dark Games

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Hey guys so if y’all wanna get right to the next chapter of the story, just proceed to after the line break. I just need somewhere to rant.

I’m having my semester exam next next week and I don’t know where the heck did my motivation run off to. I took a nap and when I sat down and was gonna restart my engine and get productive, my head started to spin. Just a teeny tiny bit. I’m thinking this is psychological but don’t get me wrong, I love studying. I’m just so confused T-T wat the heck is wrong with me.

Even trying to do the things I love like playing the piano (which I usually could spend hours on) couldn’t get me to become motivated. I felt downright lazy. I’m trying to do the things I enjoy to get back on track—leading me here to a story update. Have any of you experienced this? It’s like everything is fine, days are productive UNTIL an exam comes close… zzz

Ok enough of the rant, if you read through that, thank you for your time. Now on with the next chappie!~~

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Drip…Drip….

The bowl was almost full. The putrid cup of gore was tinted black with the mix of blood from the demon blood that was present and fresh rich crimson from the living. Fubuki scrunched his nose in disgust as he held his hand over it. He was quite sure he made the cut deep enough this time around but somehow it was taking a long time. Tsk, he really should’ve remembered to drink more water.

Taking a quick glance across the room—just for the sake for temporarily killing this agonising boredom, he met with various expressions. Some of them looked like they were just as bored as he was, trying their best to hold back their yawns while some glanced around nervously clutching their bleeding appendages(wherever they chose to cut). By the looks of it, they were probably newbies to be that terrified of their own blood. On the other hand, some twitched as they stared at the bowl of blood with intensity and a strange look of satisfaction. Creeps.

Needless to say, Fubuki was starting to feel fatigue creep over him as he continued this… bloodletting session. He mentally snorted as he recalled 13th century history class on medieval beliefs. He must have lost too much blood for his thoughts were completely in disarray-

RuMbLE rUmbLE

The building began to shake again as the low hum reverberated from below their feet once again. Uneasy glances were shared as all the leaders tried to put on a brave face. Fubuki himself was fairly puzzle when all of a sudden, he was pulled forward.

What the heck?!

His vision plunged into red and finally into darkness. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t speak, he could only hear the muffled shouts around him as the building once again rumbled. But one thing was for sure, there was something around his neck. And whatever that thing is, it wouldn’t let go. It was tightening—choking him.

Fubuki struggled to push himself up, keeping his hands firm at the rim of that damned bowl. The earthquake sure as hell wasn’t helping either. He mustered up all of his strength.

He was not dying here.

With a final jerk, he freed himself from whatever that was yanking him into the contents of the sacred stone.