1 Fork Fatale: Stabbing Sausage

Blood spilled across the bed of wet panties as Byzum stabbed Sorg with a fork.

For the 69th time, Byzum raised the fork and brought it down, smashing the sausage face of Sorg as streaks of ketchup sprayed in the air.

Driven by rage, Byzum stabbed Sorg, again and again, turning Sorg's sausage face into a beehive of butchery that glimmered red with the moonlight.

But instead of getting honey, Byzum got his face covered in blood.

Blood. It's always blood. Byzum didn't know why but the warm kisses of blood flowing on his face seemed to burn his spirit with addictive satisfaction.

Deep inside his soul, something called him. Something that thirsts for slaughter. It wanted more blood. It pushed him to kill more. But not now. Maybe tomorrow. Or in the next few moments.

He stood for a moment, thinking about the result of his current mission that seemed a mystery he ached to stab, hoping it to bleed with the outcomes he desired.

But the consequences of your actions are always as dark as your neighborhood's armpit, and wishing for the desired outcome is the same as finding your true love. Yes, you might never see your true love. Well, you can wait. You'll never know; you might see Lady Luck's ass shining into your eyes someday.

Byzum took a deep breath. But now he wished he didn't. For he somehow smelled the semen mixed with alcohol flying in the air like crazy bugs that bite his nose every time he took a breath.

After six sexy seconds, Byzum's thoughts got stabilized and the room now appeared clearer to him.

The room was a place fitted to Sorg's perverted adventures.

There was a mahogany table used for quick romance, some treasure chest that probably contained horny materials, and a couple of soft-cushioned chairs that worked for different kinds of erotic jobs.

In the uttermost left part of the room, a velvet bed lay large enough to provide a space between Sorg and five virgin maidens. The bed should have been the paradise for Sorg but Byzum turned it into a sausage fest.

A moment ago, Byzum demanded Sorg to release the prison miners in exchange for some Silver Spheres. But the sausage-face man requested more. So Byzum gave him more.

More brutal strikes.

Despite the vile appearance of the dead, Byzum noticed a faint life force vibrating underneath the bed.

He crouched downwards, threw away some fragrant panties, then picked a golden box that has a painting of a Skyforest. Byzum opened it and a white herb stole his breath.

In Byzum's vision, a Cloud Lotus emerged in the same way a pair of thick thighs grabs his attention. The flirtatious vitality of the herb thumped invisible waves throughout the room like the imaginary sounds of drums that you'll hear whenever you see those twin bosoms bouncing on the beat.

Byzum felt his blood burn with intense desire. His body ached to absorb the Cloud Lotus, for he had long wanted to enhance his physique. But not now. Not today. He still got a task he needed to accomplish.

Byzum stored the golden box in his spatial ring which was rare as the Noble Demons. But before he goes out of the room, he made sure to steal all the treasures that will provide practical usage to his current mission.

With a sigh, Byzum pulled Sorg's greasy left foot. The dead fell with a thud, puffing the dust on the cobblestoned floors. Sorg was naked. So Byzum saw a small worm wiggling in the crotch of Sorg.

Poor man. How can he live with such a small sword? Thrusting it into a holy hole seemed an act of miracle.

Byzum hastened his movements when he heard the groans mixed with laughter in the nearby hall, where the prison miners enjoyed their feast and orgy.

Byzum opened the wooden door, sliding it sideways as he dragged the dead.

The hallway, which he currently treads, curved towards the left side of the indoor balcony. Few torches barely beamed here. And the only sound you could hear in this place was Sorg's corpse that bounced whenever it hit a bump in the river-rock floors.

Halfway through the hallway, Byzum stopped when he caught the glimpse of the dining hall. Disgust filled his eyes like a speck of dirt he couldn't clean.

The hall was a filthy scenery, a junkyard of drunkards, an obscene orgyhouse where wildlings rammed their partners toward orgasm.

Byzum admitted that his fellow demons were worse in expressing their lustful desires, but they always do these sorts of things with some privacy and style.

Not like this hall's carnival show that presented the wildness of animals. He couldn't even distinguish which were the asses or faces. Perhaps both?

Although Byzum was somehow annoyed by the smell of the semen mixed with alcohol, he continued to move.

With his good agility, Byzum arrived at the edge of the indoor balcony. He threw the corpse below, and with a quick jump, he darted downwards like an assassin's dagger, then landed on the top of Sorg's dead body, which crashed on the nearest table.

The hall turned silent, all breaths seemed frost, and the prison miners stopped their perverted adventures.

The corpse of Sorg seemed to stab the mind of the prison miners, bleeding their thoughts with the information that Warden Sorg was slaughtered by the Demon who currently stood in front of them.

All the prison miners stood, although some of them were drunken and naked. The comfort women ran while they wore their clothes.

Drunken or just arrogant, the prison miners grabbed their mining equipment, and they all looked at Byzum with eyes that spoke of murder.

Byzum scrutinized the 23 prison miners. Most of them wore ragged leather layered over gray tunic shirts. Rust had dulled their mining equipment along with their little minds.

Byzum straightened his pose and said. "I'm Byzum and I came to—"

"You've got big balls, but you have such a small sword... fork?" a green-haired youth interrupted Byzum as he moved towards the corpse.

The green-haired youth looked at the fork, then he glanced back at Byzum with his knitted eyebrows. "You killed Sorg with a fork? A fookin fork."

"Fork for pork," a brawny man mumbled.

"What the Fork."

Some prison miners got their eyes widened. Some muttered confused noises. Others still stood unaware of anything that happened in their surroundings.

The hall turned silent once again as if a beautiful maiden was revealed to be a man after all those seductive sights she made. Or he made.

But the silence was shattered by the brawny brute who shouted while he slashed his pickaxe towards Byzum.

The pickaxe moved with drunken velocity and a monkey-faced man followed by throwing a naked dagger.

Byzum clasped the fork and dashed. When he was two steps away from his first opponent, he ducked as low as he can, evading the brawny brute's pickaxe, which passed right through him just an inch away from peeling his face.

In the next split second, the brawny brute staggered.

Taking the chance, and with the murderous fork in his hand, Byzum stabbed the brawny brute. The metallic utensil pierced through his opponent's forehead.

Blood sprayed. But Byzum grabbed the corpse and used it as a shield for the naked dagger, which flew towards his head.

The next collision, then, was not surprising, for the dagger hit the brawny brute's head, just as Byzum had expected.

To kill the monkey-faced youth, Byzum crouched upwards, then he threw the fork.

Swift and silent, the fork flew forward like a ninja's dagger, piercing the skull of the monkey-faced man before he could even react.

Blood spurted across the air. Two bodies fell like a pair of sex addicts that was exhausted to death.

Silence kissed everyone's ears.

The two died along with the malicious thoughts of the remaining prison miners. Perhaps the two who died were drunken. Perhaps they were just pure retard. But Byzum let the prison miners know that he loved to stab some heads with a fork.

After a couple of seconds, the prison miners sat on their asses.

"Three corpses should be enough." Byzum glared at the prison miners like a beast looking down on insects.

"What do you want?" the green-haired youth asked.

All prison miners looked at Byzum. The tightness of their lips showed their barely suppressed nervousness. Yet they all waited.

Byzum scrutinized the green-haired youth who behaved like an obedient Vice Warden. But his eyes — they're brutally beautiful. They're full of volcanic hatred but dormant, like a monster peering out of a forest on fire.

Then Byzum walked towards the center aisle as he said. "I want all of you."

The prison miners furrowed their eyebrows. An air of tension filled the hall as Byzum felt their hearts skip a beat.

"All of you can either die being prison miners or live long enough to be my soldiers," Byzum said.

He continued to smile after he noticed the conflicted expressions of the prison miners. "Are you all not tired of living in this filthy lair? Are you all not tired of being treated like insects? Are you all not tired of having this miserable life?"

"I understand that all of you became prison miners because of some unfair circumstances," Byzum added. "But now is the time to prove that all of you are not disposable people. Now is the time to live with pride. It's now time to... "

His words crashed like a meteor, burning the hearts of the prison miners with an explosion of passion that they never felt before.

Byzum smiled in his heart while he looked down at the prison miners. He wanted to say something funny.

But before he could spat a word, coldness spread throughout the vicinity. Then the tall door burst wide open, giving way to the atrocities that pushed Byzum's heart to fall into the abyss.