Ink and his squad were eating downstairs.

  "How's the new guy?" he asked his companion who had brought him here.

  "He's okay. Went to sleep the moment we got back."

  Ink nodded. Mining for hours is exhausting, especially for someone who was once a mortal. Not to mention, he killed a centipede.

  "I don't like him. The mere fact that he used to be a lowly miner is revolting," another squad member said.

  Ink nodded again, expression unreadable.

  But inside, he was smiling. This was exactly what he wanted.

  He needed someone to take the blame for his death. And who would be the first suspect?

  Those who already resented the newcomer for being from a lower class.

  "I understand. But not to worry. We won’t be around him for long. After we recommend him, the Empire will take him away for research." Ink replied.

  The squad member fell silent. The thought of a hefty reward seemed to appeal to all of them.

  "Why don't we invite him to eat with us? Treat him well, and maybe he puts in a good word for us when he goes," said the man who had first guided him.

  Ink smiled. He hadn't expected anyone to suggest that and was just about to bring it up himself. He looked at the man with pride. In ten years of working together, the guy had never shown this level of cunning.

  Today was a lucky day.

  The others nodded in agreement.

  The man got up and went to fetch the newcomer.

  A few minutes later, both of them returned and took their seats at the table.

  The stranger looked groggy, still dazed from sleep.

  But once the food was in front of him, he began eating, ignoring every pretense of manners.

  The others wrinkled their noses but said nothing.

  Ink was pleased. The more they hated him, the better.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Still, he had to be cautious. He wasn’t the only one who might be thinking about eliminating the newcomer.

  Within minutes, all the food and wine had been devoured. The entire squad had eaten ravenously, Ink included.

  Within minutes, all the food and wine had been devoured. The entire squad had eaten ravenously, Ink included.

  Yet, despite the feast, he still felt hungry. He looked around and saw the same in their eyes. None of them felt full.

  None of them were content.

  Ink didn’t think too deeply about it. Maybe it was joy that made him crave more. Or maybe his body was pushing him to eat up so as to be ready for the assassination he was going to do that night.

  Suddenly, they were all rushing to the kitchen, as if in a race to get more food.

  To an outsider, the scene would’ve been horrifying.

  But to them, it was natural. They shoved one another like wild animals.

  Ink was lucky. He managed to snatch a large slab of raw meat. He eyed it with feral intensity, then sank his teeth into it without hesitation.

  He closed his eyes. The taste overwhelmed him.

  He devoured it and looked around for more. But the others had already emptied the storage.

  Disappointed, he turned back. Then he saw one of his squadmates biting into his own finger, chewing slowly. The man showed no pain, only a twisted pleasure.

  Ink and the others licked their lips.

  Then they pounced.

  They tore into the man like starved wolves, biting into his flesh. One tried to rip out his eyes, others gnawed at his chest, his legs, his ears.

  The man tried to flee, not to save his life, but to keep his meat for himself. He even bit off more of his own fingers so no one else enjoys it other than himself.

  Eventually, he was gone. Not even bones remained.

  All that was left was a pool of blood, scraps of flesh and organs, which the others licked clean from the floor like starving beasts.

  But they were still not content and wanted more.

  They turned on each other, eyes scanning for the ripest target.

  Someone lunged, and chaos followed.

  Ink struck gold. An eyeball. He shoved it in his mouth and bit down. It burst with rich fluid, sweet and complex, reminding him of a candy with a hard shell and syrup inside.

  He needed more.

  He silently plucked another from a distracted man. Then another. Soon, he had a small collection. He stuffed them in his mouth, savoring each one.

  Hours passed.

  Only two were left. Ink and one other.

  They fought, biting, ripping, clawing.

  Ink had lost an eye, along with his lower jaw. His face was shredded, the bone underneath fully exposed. Part of his skull was missing, and his hand was now fishing through his brain, shoving whatever he found into the hole where his mouth used to be.

  His tongue was gone too, someone had ripped it out and ate it. It was pure muscle after all and they considered it prime meat.

  His chest had been torn open and his ribs pulled out. One lung was gone, probably in someone's mouth. The other was barely inflating. His heart had a bite-shaped hole in it.

  His esophagus had been severed at the point where it attached to the stomach, so everything he swallowed spilled through. His stomach was also cut wide, leaking chewed flesh and half-digested meat.

  His liver, and most of his other organs were gone.

  He had eaten some of them himself. He had slurped his small intestine or whatever had remained of it after someone had ripped it out.

  His thighs were exposed down to bone. Only one arm remained intact. All his other limbs ended in stumps at the elbows and knees.

  The squad had consumed one another. Alive.

  But Ink was still hungry.

  He looked around for more, and then saw a human. He smiled, or tried to, with what remained of his face.

  Ashes sat comfortably, sipping wine, entirely unbothered by the massacre.

  He remembered how they were mocking him for eating like an animal.

  Ashes smirked.

  'Now who got eaten like animals?'

  He felt a gaze and turned. Ink, or what was left of him, was staring at him. His eyes gave the feeling of not being content with what he had eaten till now and still wanted more.

  Suddenly Ink blinked. He sat up straight as if awakening from a deep slumber.

  'Ohhh what a dream.' he thought ' That was really horrifying. I was not feeling content with normal food and so ate my squad mates.'

  'Damn, I must have drank a lot of get a nightmare this bad.' he shook his head.

  He then tried to stand, but collapsed.

  'Huh? Am I still drunk?'

  He looked down. His eyes widened in horror. His legs were gone from the knees, and bone was visible through what little thigh remained.

  He rubbed his eyes, or tried to.

  He looked at his arms. Screamed, or tried to.

  Bits of flesh floated in a red lake around him. Heads lay scattered, crushed in and eyeless.

  Then he remembered.

  He grabbed his hair with his remaining arm and yanked. He was going mad.

  'What have I done?......'

  'Where am I?...:

  'Who am I?....'

  'Am I a monster......'

  'What have I done?....'

  'I ate humans....'

  He tried to puke, but his food pipe was already cut off from his stomach. Only sounds of exhaling came.

  Ink, with his left arm clutched his hair and pulled with enough force to pull them out. He started scratching his face or his facial bones that were out in the open.

  It made a truly horrific sight and sounds it made seemed like it came straight out of a nightmare.

  Ashes kept smiling.