You thought it was a new chapter, but it was me, Author update! Sorry for any excitement at the sudden resurgence.
Anyways, this is just me coming back from the dead to say I am working on the story, however slow it may be. Life isnt lax enough to continue this story quickly. Expect a rewritten chapter 1 that is split up into two next time I decide to do anything.
Anyways, here's a drop of content to satisfy the hungry masses with the effectiveness of the Soviet Union:
The Knight of Thorns was an intimidating sight for the King of Lescatie, strong as he was. The blood and meat of several Mamono coated the brutal killer in a fresh red paint, shared by his barbed sword and brutal shield. Regardless, King Castor could not deny his effectiveness.
The chambers of his sickly young daughter was littered with half a dozen dead Kunoichi. The ones who still had discernable faces were frozen in looks of terror or shock. However, one thing caught his eye as he observed the corpses.
They were drained.
As if the Chief God herself descended and delivered a poetic irony, the skin of these monsters was sunken in, sickly. They reminded him of the dead soldiers his men had recovered from liberated camps of the Fourthborn's army, drained of their spirit energy and left to rot. He would smile if it were not such a gruesome sight.
The King heard a whimper as he drew his sword- mostly ceremonial- as one of his knights investigated the source, his daughter's wardrobe. The knight carefully opened the door, and a living Mamono dropped out, though the life within her was debatable now.
The last living kunoichi was covered in cuts both fresh and old, with her flesh a horrible yellow. But the worst part were her eyes. They were a terrible blood-red, drained of all color that was not crimson.
The battered and broken demon opened her mouth, devoid of lips to hide her rotten teeth, to finally speak.
"Damn the servants of the Dark"
Also, the guy that said the fic is trash really needs to learn about constructive criticism