The night was thick with a sense of ominous stillness, the kind that seemed to whisper to your primal instincts that something was terribly wrong. The remnants of pleasure still clung to your skin as you made your way through the deserted streets, your mind occupied by recent events. The woman you had been with—her moans still echoed in your ears like a twisted melody—was just one of many. You’d lost count of the wives, girlfriends, and lovers whose screams of ecstasy you'd stolen, reveling in the look of helplessness on their partner's face. There was a dark, sadistic pleasure in knowing you had bested them, not just in the bedroom, but in ways that ripped their very souls apart.

Each conquest left a sense of euphoria, but that satisfaction was always tempered by something else—something gnawing at the back of your mind. It wasn’t the acts themselves that bothered you; it was what followed. Recently, bodies had been piling up—lovers, just like the one tonight, found brutally murdered. Their bodies had been desecrated in ways too gruesome to imagine: some hacked to pieces and stuffed in plastic bags, some beheaded, their corpses posed in vile mockery of life. Crucifixions, bodies impaled and displayed like macabre trophies—your conquests didn’t just end in lust, but in horror.

As you walked, the streets became eerily silent. The usual bustle of the city had vanished. No people. No cars. Just an empty, yawning void. Your steps echoed louder than they should’ve. Each heartbeat felt like a countdown, and as you neared home, a cold shiver crawled up your spine. The house was dark—too dark. Normally, the lights would be on. The door felt heavier than it should as you pushed it open with a trembling hand, fumbling for the switch that seemed almost elusive in the pitch-black. And then—click—the room flooded with harsh, blinding light.

And there he stood.

A knight, covered head to toe in intricately designed armor, the metal glistening in the soft glow of the light. His sword, thick and gleaming with fresh blood, was clutched tightly in his hand. Around him were the mangled, lifeless bodies of your family, the floor slick with their blood. Their eyes, frozen in their last moments of terror, stared up at you from the pool of crimson at the knight’s feet.

In his other hand was the woman’s head—the one you had been with just hours before. Her face, still twisted in a grotesque blend of ecstasy and agony, stared lifelessly at you. He tossed it at your feet without a second thought, the thud of it hitting the floor sounding like a death knell. You couldn’t breathe. Your mind couldn’t process the horror in front of you, but the knight’s gaze—cold, unfeeling, and unrelenting—pierced through every ounce of panic in your chest.

The patch on his shoulder read “NTR Knight,” and somehow, it felt like a title of pure irony. His reputation for brutality and merciless vengeance was etched into every line of his posture, every ripple of the bloodstained armor that now gleamed ominously under the light.

Before you could react, before you could even scream, someone shoved you from behind. You stumbled, crashing to your knees, and as you spun to see who had struck you, there stood the woman’s husband. His face was a twisted mess of fury and fear, his trembling hands gripping a gun pointed at your chest.

“NTR Knight! Kill him!” the man barked, though his voice wavered with fear.

The knight’s helmet turned ever so slightly toward the man. “Who the fuck are you?” His voice was like gravel, rumbling through the room with a deep, predatory growl.

The man’s eyes widened. “F-Fine, I’ll do it myself!” His hands shook uncontrollably as he aimed the gun at you, but the moment the trigger was pulled, the knight moved faster than you could comprehend. In a flash, he grabbed the barrel and aimed it at himself. The bullet slammed into his helmet with a sharp crack, his head snapping back with the force of it. For a heartbeat, silence.

Then, he chuckled. The sound reverberated through the room, cold and sinister. “Bullets? Really?”

Before the man could react, the knight’s hand shot out, clamping down on his skull. With an effortless flick of his wrist, he hurled the man across the room like a ragdoll, sending him crashing through the front door and onto the street. The impact was brutal, the sound of bones snapping echoed off the walls as he crumpled to the ground. You watched in stunned silence as the knight followed him outside, the street now drenched in the pallor of moonlight.

The man, Eddie, struggled to rise, blood leaking from his nose and mouth as he forced himself onto his knees. “Why?” he screamed, his voice cracking with rage and despair.* “Why kill them? Why waste your strength slaughtering these people when there are real criminals, rapists, and murderers out there?”

The knight loomed over him, silent for a moment before reaching down and grabbing Eddie by his collar, pulling him up to eye level. “What’s stopping you?” the knight growled, his voice laced with disdain. “You talk as if the scum of this world is so hard to find, so hard to kill. A single bullet would stop them—if you had the spine to pull the trigger. Don’t point fingers at me while you sit on your ass and do nothing.”

With that, the knight’s strength surged. He lifted Eddie above his head as if he weighed nothing, and then, with a sickening tear, ripped the man in two. Eddie’s screams tore through the night air as his blood showered down, painting the knight’s armor in a fresh coat of crimson. The knight tossed the mangled halves of the body aside like trash, the metal of his gloves slick with the warmth of fresh blood.

He stood there, the street beneath him stained with Eddie’s life essence, his breath slow and steady. Then, as if remembering, the knight turned his gaze back to you. His cold, emotionless eyes locked onto yours, and a sickening realization crawled through your mind.

You were next.