Warrior Training System

A hulking, grotesque figure loomed, its upper skin seemingly stripped away, exposing raw, glistening muscles that churned the stomach. Towering as tall as some trees, it stood motionless with lifeless eyes, its hairless body and disfigured face barely resembling human—more akin to a bloated, distorted caricature of a fat businessman, with sagging, fatty underskin grotesquely visible.

Around a flickering fire, two mages sat, their heights so diminutive that, if standing, they would barely reach the knees of the towering meaty giant nearby. Each clutched a staff crowned with large, multicolored mana stones—rare, radiant artifacts that bespoke immense power and elite connections, far beyond the reach of mere wealth. One mage, older, his eye sockets aglow with an eerie dark red, stared into the void as if unraveling the fabric of existence. The other, younger and seemingly unbothered, fixed his gaze on a slab of meat roasting over the flames, his staff propped casually beside him.

The roasting meat resembled a grotesque limb, possibly from some beast but disturbingly human-like, with five fingers and the proportions of an adult human arm. Both mages wore dark, flowing robes. The older mage closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them, the glowing red orbs shifted to near-human eyes, though an unsettling dark red speck lingered in the pupils. Noticing his younger companion staring hungrily at the cooking limb, saliva nearly dripping from his mouth, the older mage's face twisted in disgust.

"I've told you countless times, Barok, control your hunger!" the older mage snapped, his voice sharp with exasperation. "When you were a low-ranked devotee of the Great Dark God, such weakness was overlooked. But we are Abyssal Hands now—our purpose is to send the cult's enemies to the abyss, not to gorge ourselves on their flesh!"

Barok, the younger mage, flushed with embarrassment but retorted, "Master, it's not forbidden! There's no downside—only the advantage of savoring these delicious, juicy muscles…" His eyes gleamed as he stared at the roasting limb.

The older mage's face tightened with frustration. He pulled a fruit from his spatial ring and bit into it, muttering, "As I said, we're Abyssal Hands, not Crimson Hands. Our strength lies in our minds, not our bodies. Human flesh suits them—they channel it into power. For us, indulging risks a mind-shattering hunger that consumes reason."

Barok grinned widely, unperturbed. "I don't mind, Master." With a flick of his wrist, he used magic to lift the charred, human-like arm from the fire, floating it to his hands. He took a ravenous bite, his face lighting up with near-tearful bliss. "My mind was already cracked when you took me in and ran those experiments on me. What's one more fracture?"

The older mage's disgusted expression cracked into a smile, a bit nostalgic as he said, "Those were the days, ahh had quite some fun doing those experiments on you though but also you surviving those made me quite surprised…"

"Well, I wanted to kill you then, and sometimes I still do," Barok said, flashing a wide grin as he ripped another chunk of meat from the bone, "but those experiments that made me a mage? I don't mind 'em much now. And about this human meat, I know you're fretting' over me, Master, but I swear I only eat normal humans—don't affect me much, easier to stomach than them circle warriors…" He sank his teeth into the flesh again, eyes shining with delight. "But I tried a circle warrior once—delicious thing I ever tasted. You ever give it a go, Master?"

"Nah, human meat ain't my thing," the older mage replied, popping the last bit of fruit in his mouth. "Only choked some down when I joined the cult—compulsory, you know, for that ritual to get close with Lord Silas." He flicked the fruit core away, his voice hardening. "Enough chit-chat about food. Magesteria City's sent reinforcement—tough ones, real strong. If they reach Karmen Earldome with them magical weapon, it's gonna ruin all we've worked for there…"

"Really, that strong?" Barok asked, surprised, his mouth still stuffed as he nearly devoured the entire human limb in less than a minute.

"Yeah," the older mage growled, his eyes flashing with fury. "The hyena's monsters I sent to attack them—ninety percent got slaughtered by just thirty or so of 'em. Couldn't even kill one! And there's a thousand of them lugging those pesky mana guns, making things difficult. Last time we hit 'em directly, more than half our men died to those bastards…"

"Then what should we do to stop 'em?" Barok asked, his eyes narrowing as the older mage smirked and glanced at the towering, meaty giant beside them. The grotesque figure hadn't moved an inch since the start, yet its loud, rasping breaths confirmed it was alive. "What else? Use this masterpiece of creation. Ain't sure it'll stop 'em entirely, but with some Crimson Hands thrown in, it should thin their numbers a bit, don't ya think?"

Barok nodded, tearing the last strip of meat from the bone with a savage grin. "And there's us too. Let's make sure we kill at least half of 'em this time—payback for last time's mess."

"Yeah, we'll start preparin' now. We'll strike at midnight, trappin' 'em in that narrow canyon with no way out. Tell your my other students to join to we need your brothers and sisters. It's gonna be a thrill to see their panicked faces when they realize they're gettin' hit from both sides…" the older mage said, a wide grin splitting his face as he clutched his staff tightly.

Barok licked his lips, still savoring' the meat's taste. "How many Crimson Hands we need? Should we throw some Hollow Fangs at 'em too? Those mutated things ain't good for much 'kept being' meat shields…"

"Well, we need 'em against those mana guns, so use as many as we can get. Ain't like there's a shortage of 'em," the older mage replied. He was right—the Hollow Fangs he referred to were mutated humans who couldn't fully join the cult but got enhanced physical capabilities through rituals, trading a short lifespan for it. The cult usually turned rejected prisoners into 'em if they weren't picked for sacrifices or food.