Lust...Lost...Last Survivor.

Her powers had twisted minds and corrupted hearts, turning families against one another and stealing the innocence of entire generations. Now, her frail, twisted form was violated and torn apart, crumpling beneath the weight of their rage. There was no pity, no mercy for the demon who had poisoned everything pure—only destruction, as the humans sought to purify her through lust, violence and hatred, the same way she had corrupted so many before them.

This wasn't just madness—it was righteous vengeance. It was the humans reclaiming their power, their pride, their right to exist. For years, they had been crushed under the heel of the demons, reduced to nothing but cattle, tortured and brutalized at every turn. Now, they were the ones feeling with power, the ones who could unleash their rage without fear of demonic payback.

Yes, their acts were grotesque, vulgar, depraved, inhumane and not honorable at all, but these are demons and they had done far worse. This was humanity's moment—however twisted and filthy—to take back their world. In the end, they were not just fighting for survival. They were fighting for the souls of every human who had ever been defiled, murdered, or enslaved by the demons. This was revenge in its rawest form. It was ugly, it was brutal, and it was absolutely necessary.

Some soldiers, panting with mad lust and hatred, bitterly murmured about the Scarlet Empress. "If Commander Jin had just waited, we could've had some real fun with her before she died," one spat, eyeing her mangled naked corpse with lustful, sickening regret. 

Yet, despite their vile desires, those thoughts were overshadowed by the cathartic release of years of pent up hatred and suffering. The battlefield had transformed into a cesspool of degeneracy and revenge, where the line between man and beast blurred beyond recognition. It was no longer a place of war & sacrifice—it had become a grotesque place of mad depravity.

"STOP THIS MADNESS AT ONCE!" A raspy shout ripped through the battlefield, cutting through the clamor of hatred and depravity. Heads snapped toward the source of the voice, and there stood a figure—hunched, disfigured, and cloaked in a tattered hood. 

From the rear of the human forces, a hunched, disfigured old man emerged, cloaked in a ragged hood that hid most of his face. He limped forward, each step slow and painful, as if his very bones were weighed down by suffering. Behind him, trailing on all four limbs with a heavy clink of chains, was something far more horrifying—a twisted demon who looked like a starved, gaunt old man, its bony limbs rattling with each step, and its eyes gleaming with a strange intelligence and malice. The sight of the chained demon sent a wave of disgust through the human soldiers.

"Who... who is that?" one of the soldiers whispered, his voice shaky with fear.

"The Demon Keeper..." someone muttered. "He... he's real?"

The soldiers whispered and exchanged anxious glances. Few had ever seen the Demon Keeper in person, but his legend had spread like wildfire. 

Feared. Hated. Despised. A man who had somehow captured and enslaved a demon. But the cost had been horrific—his body disfigured beyond recognition. Yet here he was, as if walking out of a nightmare. 

He was the only human who had ever captured a demon and survived—but at a tremendous cost. His body, broken and ruined. And the demon, now his "loyal dog," was a vile creature, bound in chains, yet somehow always grinning with mocking glee. This demon, though chained, was far from defeated.

The demon's grin widened as it tugged at the chains, its voice an unsettling rasp, sharp as broken glass. "Ohhhh, what do we have here? The mighty heroes of humanity! Look at them! Defiling corpses, pissing on demons like rabid dogs marking their territory. How brave. How dignified." It laughed, a sickening cackle that echoed across the battlefield. "Tell me, is this what victory looks like to you?"

It chuckled, dragging its chains as it moved, eyes darting from soldier to soldier, lingering on their expressions, he could see right through them, the shame and guilt.

The soldiers bristled, some tightening their grips on their weapons, others backing away in fear. But no one dared attack.

One brave soul stepped forward, sword raised, his voice trembling. "Who... who are you to interrupt our vengeance?"

The demon's grin widened. "Oh, how cute!" The chained demon's eyes gleamed as it cocked its head mockingly, slithering closer to the brave soldier who dared speak up. 

"You call this taking out vengeance or is this lust? How noble. Tell me, human, is that what you whisper to yourself at night? To justify... this?" It gestured to the depravity, the brutalized and defiled corpse of the Scarlet Empress, some were still venting out on her, and the grotesque filthy spectacle surrounding the piss and feces pit. "What a delightful lie you've convinced yourselves of."

The soldier's grip on his sword tightened, his knuckles turning white. "We don't answer to you, demon. We're reclaiming what was stolen from us—our pride, our people, our humanity!"

The demon burst into laughter, bending over in a cruel mockery. "Humanity? Ha! Yes, I can see it all so clearly now. Pissing on corpses, defiling the corpse—such a shining example of humanity. Oh, my master and I are so impressed."

Another soldier, encouraged by his comrade, spat on the ground. "You're one to talk, demon. You and your kind have done worse. We're only giving you a taste of your own filth."

The demon's grin vanished, replaced by an unsettling stillness. Its voice dropped, becoming cold and dangerous. "Worse? Oh, how little you understand." It tugged at its chains, moving with eerie spider-like grace on its four limbs toward the soldiers, eyes narrowing. "My kind did worse, yes. And that's why you humans were nothing but insects under our boots. You think this... pitiful display of barbarism is justice? No. It's the lack of imagination, short sightedness, selfishness and desperation. And desperation smells delicious."