Prologue: The Relic of Pure Hunger- 1191 AD. The Kingdom of Jerusalem. A Hidden Cave near Acre.The vast, pitch-black cavern was suffocating, smelling overwhelmingly of ash and time. Brother Thomas lowered his torch, its weak light struggling against the oppressive dark. Six other Crusaders, weary from the chase, squinted at the unsettling scene.The cave floor was a primordial graveyard. Dozens of ancient skeletons lay scattered, not resting, but dismantled. Thomas's torch illuminated the calculated trauma: a ribcage methodically detached, a skull repeatedly fractured from the inside, and limbs severed with impossibly clean breaks. The scene suggested a collective, frenzied, self-directed destruction.Sergeant Lucian, his face pale with dread, crossed himself, muttering, "This wasn't an attack. This was... a frenzy."Thomas stumbled backward, his foot catching on a small, dark object. It was a human radius bone-calcified and ancient-meticulously etched with microscopically small, agonizingly detailed geometric symbols. The moment the bone scraped the stone, a low, unnerving resonance-a silent, psychological frequency-filled the air.Thomas froze. He looked at Lucian, and the fear in his own eyes vanished, replaced by a deep, unsettling glee.Without a word, Thomas drew his heavy, two-handed sword. He didn't move to fight Lucian, but raised the sword high, his face pulling into a grotesque, ecstatic mask: the devilish smile.The smile was pure, absolute joy in violence-a terrifying, chilling expression of alien delight.Shiiing.Thomas brought the sword down not on a brother, but on the closest target: the stone altar. The noise was deafening, but it was just a warm-up. He moved with unnatural, focused speed, the smile never wavering, his eyes fixed on the pure act of destruction.