The Brutality of Battlefield Feeding: When The Children Unleash the Devil Within

In the refined society of The Children, feeding is typically a controlled, almost elegant act, bound by strict rules that emphasize restraint, respect for beauty, and discipline. Yet there is one exception to these rules, a singular environment where these codes fall away: the battlefield. Here, amid the chaos and clash of conflict, feeding transforms from a ritual of elegance into an act of raw survival and sheer brutality. In battle, The Children’s primal instincts emerge, exposing the darkness within them, the part of their nature that even they are wary of acknowledging.

Battlefield feeding is a savage, visceral experience where the rules of restraint are abandoned in favor of sheer necessity. In the heat of combat, a Child’s priority shifts from refined control to pure, unrestrained consumption. Energy reserves are crucial in these moments, as feeding becomes both a tool for survival and a weapon of warfare. To leave a battle with a full reserve of life-force is as important as victory itself, and so The Children feed without reservation, drawing upon every ounce of strength their prey can offer.

The Nature of Battlefield Feeding: Pure, Primal Greed

On the battlefield, The Children’s feeding is not just intense—it is ruthless, ferocious, and devoid of the elegance that normally characterizes their rituals. Rather than pulling energy with the finesse they exercise in other settings, they rip the very essence of life from their victims, tearing it away with brutal force. In this setting, the life-force is not carefully siphoned but violently consumed, a savage act that leaves the victim shattered, their soul stripped from their mortal coil in a way that feels akin to spiritual violence.

This feeding is a traumatic experience for the victim, a sensation of being torn apart from within as The Child drains every drop of energy they can find. The Children’s usual appreciation for beauty and refinement falls away, replaced by a raw greed that is as ugly and merciless as the battlefield itself. It is a necessary ugliness—an acknowledgment of their predatory nature at its most unrestrained.

The Contrast of Beauty and Brutality

The Children are, by nature, drawn to beauty. They collect exquisite things and revel in the aesthetics of the world around them, from the allure of a well-composed painting to the grace of an individual’s movement. Their entire society is built around an appreciation for the artful and the elegant, which is why their everyday feedings, as well as the act of granting another being the ability to Breathe True Life, are handled with care and artistry.

But on the battlefield, this love of beauty is obliterated by the demands of survival. Here, their admiration for grace and elegance is eclipsed by a desperate need to win. The act of battlefield feeding is a revelation of the darker side of their nature—the Devil within them, lurking beneath their angelic composure. In these moments, The Children unleash their purest, most vicious form of power, embracing a brutality that stands in stark contrast to the grace with which they otherwise conduct themselves.

Feeding as a Tool of War and Survival

Battlefield feeding is more than a method of survival; it is a strategy. Draining the life-force of an opponent is not only a way to strengthen themselves but also a tactic that debilitates their enemies. By consuming the energy of those who fall before them, The Children gain a continuous source of fuel, ensuring they remain formidable as the battle rages on. To leave the field of battle without fully replenishing their reserves is considered unwise, even dangerous, as they may be called to fight again at any moment. For this reason, the raw, unfiltered greed of battlefield feeding is not only permitted but expected, with the understanding that only the strongest, most ruthless actions will guarantee victory and survival.

In these moments, The Children embody the primal nature of their being. There is no room for the restraint or elegance of their ritualistic feedings—only an unyielding hunger that reflects their core, parasitic nature. They tap into an energy that is as dark and chaotic as the battlefield itself, revealing the duality within them: the angelic grace they seek to uphold and the devilish savagery that surfaces when survival demands it.

The Forbidden Comparison: The Taste of No Taste

In the society of The Children, there is a clear line between the accepted forms of feeding and the condemned. Those who feed on beings without fear—the “Taste of No Taste”—are seen as treacherous, giving in to a sadistic impulse that goes against their principles. To exploit prey that lacks fear requires cruelty, an act deemed unworthy of The Children’s ideals and punishable by death.

Yet, in the heat of battle, that line blurs. Here, the same ferocity they despise in the “Taste of No Taste” manifests itself in a form they condone, even admire. The battlefield is the only space where The Children willingly unleash the full force of their predatory nature, accepting the brutality of their feeding as a necessary evil. In these moments, they stand closer to the monsters they seek to distinguish themselves from, embodying a raw and terrifying hunger that they normally keep tightly bound.

The Duality of The Children: Grace and Darkness in Harmony

The Children live in a world defined by contrasts. In their everyday existence, they are graceful beings of elevated taste and discipline, restrained predators who seek beauty and sophistication in all things. They surround themselves with objects of refinement, savoring the elegance of the world and choosing their prey with the same care as a connoisseur of art. But the battlefield strips them of these cultivated layers, exposing a savage heart that beats beneath their serene exterior.

When The Children feed on the battlefield, they reveal the part of themselves that is raw, untamed, and deeply primal. It is an act that stands in direct opposition to the beauty they cherish, a reminder that they are, at their core, predators driven by an insatiable hunger. In these moments, they accept the brutality of their nature, embracing the ugliness of survival even as they strive to honor themselves with angelic grace in all other aspects of life.

The Children, then, are creatures of duality—beings of both angelic beauty and devilish ferocity. In the quiet moments, they seek to embody elegance, control, and refinement. But in battle, they abandon those ideals, becoming something darker, something fierce and unforgiving. To those who encounter them in these moments, The Children are not elegant beings of beauty but terrifying forces of destruction, creatures who know that sometimes survival demands the embrace of one’s darkest nature.