Devourer Of Men Audiobook Novels & Stories

However, before his voice had even faded, the beast's massive hands shot out and snatched two warriors by their necks. No matter how desperately they struggled, they could not break free from its grip. The beast swung its arm, hurling the two warriors like ragdolls. Their bodies slammed into the ground, exploding into two gruesome bursts of blood. The crimson liquid soaked into the earth, painting the already dark forest in an even more eerie shade of death. The creature grinned while baring jagged fangs. It stretched out its tongue, licking the blood from its lips with a sickening delight. This monstrous being was the Devourer, a demonic entity summoned by Rhett.

One of them hissed low, revealing sharp, gleaming fangs—something no human should have. “Who are you…?” I barely managed to speak. One of the men stepped forward. His nails grew into claws in an instant—sharp as blades. His voice was deep, distorted, like an echo from a dark abyss. “The seed inside you... it must be destroyed.” Thump. ***

Reality bent at a sickening angle, the stars flickered like dying embers, and the Source trembled with a violent, erratic frequency. And for the very first time since its prehistoric awakening—the Devourer's cold, infinite gaze landed squarely on humanity. It bypassed the gods, bypassed the arrays, and focused entirely on Earth. It drank in the sight of billions of fragile, defiant lives, billions of intricate dreams, and billions of stubborn hopes. The abyss became perfectly silent. Then, it whispered a single word that vibrated through the marrow of every living soul: *"Delicious."*

"How many times do I have to watch you die? How many times do they have to bring you back as a monster?" "Rowan is a memory, Lyra," the man said. His voice was deep and smooth, but it didn't have the warmth I used to crave. "I am the First Eater. I am the evolution of the species. I am what happens when the wolf finally stops begging for scraps and starts eating the moon." He stepped over Isaac’s unconscious body, his boots clicking on the metal floor. He didn't look at me with love. He looked at me like I was a bug in his path. He reached out a hand toward Leo, his violet claws glowing.

The Forgotten who try to fight it are erased, their mutations unraveling into nothingness. At its center is a figure—a woman with skin like cracked porcelain and eyes that burn with void-fire. She floats above the devastation, her voice a chorus of screams. ***I am the Devourer,*** she declares. ***And the Worldheart is mine.*** The static in me surges, but it’s not enough. The Devourer raises a hand, and the storm intensifies, tearing at the fortress walls. The Hunter’s roots lash out, but they disintegrate before they reach her. ***She’s too strong.***

Bad choice. He planted one boot, vaulted upward, and brought his weapon down in a devastating arc. The impact sent a shockwave through the ground, cracking marble and pulverizing both creatures in a single strike. Their bodies collapsed into heaps of broken flesh and feathers. Silence followed— thick, and heavy. The remaining Devourers hesitated, claws scraping against stone as they backed away, their earlier arrogance replaced with fear. I swallowed hard. This man… he was no human. He was a perfectly oiled machine.

A shard of me . Something growls in the dark. Not Alpha—Alpha’s gone, consumed in the blast. This is deeper. Hungrier. Older. The Devourer. It’s not whole. Just a fragment, a tendril that survived the explosion, but even a finger’s width of that infinite hunger is enough to unravel me. It slithers through the ruins, tasting the air, tasting me . I freeze. A hand closes around my wrist. I spin—or the thought of spinning happens—and come face-to-face with him .

“No…I… I wasn’t, I just–” Movement behind him cut me off. The other body on the ground stirred. He groaned loudly, cursing as he pushed himself upright. “Fuck,” he muttered. “What the hell happened?” He stood slowly, pulling the charred remains of his mask off his face. The firelight revealed a man with a jagged scar running along his jaw. His face was hard, but his eyes, unlike the other man’s eyes, his eyes were softer. They were alert, almost conflicted.

The ground began to shake. Runes flickered, then went dark. The walls groaned. And from the altar, a crack appeared — not a crack in the stone, but a crack in reality. Dark mist poured through, thick and hungry. "Fall back!" Clara shouted. The pack retreated, dragging their wounded. But Elias stood frozen, staring at the opening. You've done well, the Devourer's voice whispered. Now let me in. "No." You can't stop me. You've already helped me.

Peterson suggested, addressing his last sentence to the waiter who immediately nodded. I leaned on my seat and sighed, realizing I was kind of stiff earlier. I looked at everyone as they all ordered, and I let myself breathe for a while. Well, this isn’t so bad… maybe. Mr. Peterson seems sensible. It wasn’t long before the food came. We all started eating and conversations were made at the table—at least between Sir Samuel and Sir Troy. Both Miss Annika and I were just eating silently as they talked about news and business, avoiding looking at each other.