The air outside Kuoh was still. Too still.
Night draped over the town like a silk sheet soaked in ink, and the distant hum of city lights faded behind him as he walked alone down the cracked path toward the old chapel.
No system message told him to come here. No whisper in his ear, no alarm.
Just instinct. Primal, sharp.
Like something inside his blood had recognized another predator trespassing.
The chapel stood crooked on its foundation, windows shattered, the old cross leaning like it was ashamed to be seen. The scent hit him before he even stepped inside—iron, rot, and something spiritual twisted out of shape.
He pushed the doors open.
Wood groaned. Darkness greeted him, thick as oil. Moonlight filtered through the fractured stained glass, painting broken saints on the ruined floor.
Something moved near the altar. A twitch. Then another.
His eyes adjusted.
What crouched there used to be human. A former exorcist maybe, once clad in holy robes. Now a husk. A mutation. Symbols were carved into its flesh, glowing faintly. Its spine arched unnaturally, like it was being held together by hate and filth.
It turned.
Its face didn't move like it had bones anymore. Just slack skin, too many teeth, and eyes full of starvation. They locked onto him.
It spoke—but not in words.
A screech. Guttural. Hungry.
Then it lunged.
He moved. Not fast enough.
Claws slashed his cheek open. Heat bloomed in his jaw. Blood ran.
But he didn't retreat. He didn't blink.
Instead, he grinned.
"...You're not shy."
The creature slammed into a pillar as he ducked low and swept its leg out. The marble cracked, but it recovered mid-fall, twisted unnaturally, and shot back at him. Its hand pulsed with light—holy energy laced with something sick and wrong.
He caught the arm mid-swing, and pain shot up his own.
His muscles twitched, burning.
Still, he held on.
"Let's test something."
He twisted, dragging the abomination over his shoulder and slamming it into the altar. Wood and bone snapped. He felt it writhe under his grip, then blast him back with a point-blank pulse of corrupted magic.
He flew across the chapel, hit the far wall, and dropped to one knee.
Blood in his mouth. Left arm numb.
But something inside stirred.
It wasn't anger. It wasn't fear.
It was focus. A brutal clarity that turned pain into calculation.
His fingers clenched. The bones in his arm reset with a sickening crack. Muscles tightened, hardening with every breath.
Then—something shifted.
Not visibly. Not yet.
But the weight in the room changed.
The creature froze. Its instincts screamed, but it was too late.
He dashed in—no wasted motion, no mercy. Each step crushed stone. His footwork blurred. His fist blurred.
The punch shattered its ribs. The second drove into its throat. The third struck its skull with such force, the walls trembled.
It dropped.
Twitched.
Then surged again with a roar, spewing corrupted energy in every direction.
His skin sizzled. The world spun.
But his eyes stayed sharp.
He leapt through the light, grabbed its head mid-scream, and ripped it down into his knee.
Bone caved in.
Then silence.
Only the sound of his own breath remained. Steady. Measured.
The monster twitched once. Then dissolved into black ash.
He stood over it, chest rising and falling, blood still dripping down his face.
[Stage One – Monsterization: 3%]
A low hum vibrated through his body. Muscles pulsed. Vision cleared.
No longer human. Not fully.
And he liked it.
"…This town's fun."
He turned toward the doors and stepped into the night.
The shadows followed.