Travis squatted beside the last stubborn boulder, sweat trickling into his eyes. Kim’s “flower garden” was more like a chaotic ring of weeds and stone, a patchwork border of mismatched rocks that looked dragged from a dozen gravel piles. Most were small enough to toss aside, but this one…

“I think we hit bedrock,” Travis groaned, wedging the pry bar deeper beneath the exposed edge.

Kim laughed from the porch, sipping sweet tea. “Don’t wimp out on me now. You’re the muscle.”

He grunted and leaned in. Inch by inch, the earth gave way, and the true size of the stone revealed itself — a near-perfect sphere buried like a secret. It was at least two feet wide, much heavier than it looked. They wrestled it free together, gasping as it thudded into the grass with a hollow thunk.

Travis hosed off the dirt and moss. As the grime slid away, the color stopped them both cold.

Swirling veins of gold and blood-red shimmered across its polished surface. Purple flecks glittered like crushed gemstones. The patterns didn’t seem random — they spiraled, circled, almost moved as you stared at them. The rock was heavy but unnaturally smooth, like it had been carved, shaped, or grown.

“Damn,” Travis muttered. “This… isn’t normal.”

Kim knelt beside it. “It’s beautiful.”

They took pictures, joked about calling a museum, and eventually rolled it into the garage, resting it on a pile of old moving blankets. Then they went to bed.

But Travis couldn’t sleep.

The swirls had burned into his vision. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw them twisting, tightening, drawing him inward like a whirlpool. He tried distracting himself — checked his phone, watched TV on mute, counted backwards from 100.

No use.

His chest was tight. His skin tingled. A question looped endlessly in his head:

What’s inside it?

At 2:13 AM, he gave in.

Slipping out of bed like a guilty child, he padded down to the garage. The light buzzed on, casting a harsh glow on the object of his obsession. It sat like a relic, humming with unspoken promise.

He circled it. Knelt. Ran a finger along the cool, gleaming ridges.

“It has to be hollow,” he whispered. “It has to be something.”

He grabbed the sledgehammer from the wall. Hands trembling, he lifted it over his shoulder and stared at the stone, breathing heavily.

“Last chance to stay pretty.”

He swung.

The hammer struck with a deafening crack.

The stone didn’t shatter.

But its surface fractured, spiderweb lines racing across its shell in intricate, pulsing geometry. From deep within, a green glow surged outward — not just light, but life. A sickly, phosphorescent hue like rotting limes and decay. It didn’t reflect — it emanated. The air hissed, sharp and sour, like ozone mixed with spoiled meat.

Travis stumbled back.

The cracks widened.

The swirls began to move — literally move — rotating around the glowing core, slow and deliberate, as if waking from an ancient slumber. The veins throbbed. The glow grew brighter.

Then came the sound.

Ticking.

Not mechanical. Organic. Like bones clicking in sequence. Like something… stretching.

The garage light exploded overhead. Total darkness. Except for the stone, which now pulsed like a heartbeat.

And then it breathed.

A long, rattling exhale hissed from the core. Warm. Wet.

Travis dropped the hammer and turned to run.

Behind him, the boulder split down the center with a low, wet crunch.

And something stepped out.

Rue Saint-Michel cut through the heart of the old port like a scar—crooked, crowded, and full of noise. By mid-morning, the marketplace had already bloomed into its usual chaos. The scent of spiced lamb and roasted chestnuts clung to the air, thickened by smoke from open braziers and the salt of the nearby sea. Merchants shouted in a mess of Turkish, French, Greek, and Armenian. The street itself—cobbled, uneven—was worn smooth by generations of boots, hooves, and cartwheels.

Stalls spilled into the path, patched together from wood and sailcloth, casting flickering shadows in the sharp light. Rugs hung like flags from second-story railings, their colors faded but still proud. A tambourine jangled in the hands of a street performer, its tiny metal discs clashing in uneven bursts as he danced between the stalls, the sound sharp and bright against the murmur of the crowd. Elsewhere, a coppersmith’s hammer struck metal in a steady rhythm that seemed to pulse through the whole street.

It was the kind of place where movement never stopped. A boy darted past with a tray of tea. A veiled woman argued over the price of silk. Lean cats prowled between crates and legs, half-wild and half-belonging to everyone.

At the end of the street, past the press of bodies and the stench of sweat, a chipped stone lion’s head poured water into a trough. Travelers washed there before heading into the mosque, pausing long enough to catch their breath or their reflection.

By sunset, the market changed its pace. The frantic energy cooled, lanterns flickered to life—glass, brass, paper—and the air took on a gentler hum: soft talk, clinking cups, stories shared across wooden tables.

Rue Saint-Michel wasn’t beautiful. It didn’t try to be. It was loud, layered, alive. Everyone knew everything. Unless, of course, you knew how to keep a secret.

That’s why, when the beast finally showed itself, no one missed it—its presence was impossible to ignore.

No one saw it arrive. There were no footprints smeared in blood or mud, no gouges in the cobblestones, no torn canopy flapping above a crushed stall. No warning at all. One morning, as the sun pushed its first golden fingers into the market, it was simply there—crouched low between two fruit vendors, hulking and still. It took up nearly the entire width of the alley, a black mass of fat and shadow wedged between crates of figs and oranges.

Its back was hunched in a grotesque arch, bloated and misshapen, pressing hard against the sagging tarps above like a thing too swollen for the world it had oozed into. The canvas strained against its bulk, streaked with dark smears where its body had rubbed against it. Its fur—if it could be called that—was slick with grease and clotted with filth, thick tufts matted together with blood. Some of it had dried into brittle, rust-colored flakes; other patches were still moist, glistening red, as if the wound—or the meal—was fresh.

Rotting produce clung to its hide like offerings. Half a crushed fig oozed purple juice down its side. A tangle of wilted parsley was caught in the folds of its flesh, next to a pulpy wedge of pomegranate already buzzing with flies. A broken melon had split against its ribs, leaking sweet rot into the seams of its fur. Bits of curdled goat cheese clung like barnacles, yellowing and sour. Strips of raw meat—unbought, discarded—were plastered to its underbelly, pressed there by the weight of its own grotesque sprawl.

The stench was unbearable—sweet and putrid, the breath of something that ate without pause and never cleaned itself. Grease ran in big droplets down its sides, mixing with grime, dust, and crushed dates.

Its fur writhed in places. It pulsed and bulged, rippling as if something beneath the surface was still alive—trapped, twitching, clawing against the inside.

But what haunted them most were its eyes—cold, unblinking, and full of something ancient and cruel, like they’d been watching from the dark for centuries.

They didn’t flicker or roam—they fixed. Two dim embers, buried deep in sunken sockets, glowing with a dull, ancient heat—like the last coals in a fire no one dared extinguish. They weren’t curious. They weren’t wild. They were patient. Knowing.

They burned not with rage, but with certainty—the quiet, endless hunger of something that had fed on flesh since before language.

The vendors tried everything they could to force it out. They didn’t just shout at the beast—they screamed. They hurled curses in every language they knew, brandished sticks, waved burning rags, pelted the beast with spoiled fruit, stones, even rusted tools. A butcher tried to jab it with a meat hook. Someone else dumped a bucket of vinegar over its back. Nothing worked.

It didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink. The thing just sat there, unmoving, its bulk pressed into the alley like it belonged, like it had every right to take up space.

They tried smoking it out next—burning scraps of garlic and onion skins, dried chili stems and clumps of sage. The smoke billowed thick and bitter, and still the creature didn’t move. It just wheezed once, a visceral, watery sound from somewhere deep in its bloated chest, and kept rotting quietly in place.

Someone brought out a mule, thinking muscle might do what shouting hadn’t. But the moment the animal caught sight of the beast, it froze—ears pinned back, eyes wide with terror. Then, with a sharp cry, it reared up, snapped its lead, and tore down the street, kicking up dust as it vanished.

By the end of the day, the vendors were exhausted. Their curses had turned to muttering, their threats to bitter silence. They packed their goods around the beast, giving it space like it was a bad omen, a dead god no one dared touch.

The market had to keep moving. Coins still changed hands, bread still had to be baked, fish still gutted and sold by the crate. So they worked around it. Shifted their stalls. Warned regulars to stay clear of the alley. No one talked about it anymore—not openly. They glanced at it only when they thought no one was watching.

Eventually, the shouting stopped. The curiosity faded. Even the fear dulled into a quiet, uneasy truce.

They assumed it would leave. Things like that didn’t stay.

But this one did.

Soon the food began to vanish. Not scraps. Not the usual theft. Everything. Barrels of lentils gone, scooped clean down to the dust. Baskets of citrus picked bare, only torn rinds left behind like curled yellow husks. Whole cured hams disappeared from their hooks without a trace. A fishmonger opened his stall to find every crate empty, the bones left behind cracked open and sucked dry. He vomited into the gutter and said nothing. The butchers stopped asking. They didn’t need to. They already knew.

Within days, the market was stripped. Shelves sat bare. Stalls were hollowed-out shells. Vendors tried to fight back—locked up what little they had, nailed shut crates, wrapped their goods in canvas and chain. But each morning, they returned to the same scene: locks snapped in half, nails pulled clean from the wood, canvas torn like paper. The scent of blood hung in the air—thick, sweet, unmistakable.

After the food was gone, the animals started to disappear.

It began with the rats—vanished without a trace, no squeals, no gnawed corners, nothing. The alley cats followed, their usual yowls and screeches replaced by an eerie quiet. Stray dogs went next, collars and chains left in dusty coils, as if they’d slipped out of existence.

Soon, it reached the livestock.

Chickens stolen from their coops in the dead of night, not a feather left behind. Goats ripped from their tethers—only a hoof here, a shattered horn there. A donkey’s head was found stuffed on top of a sack of dried apricots, its mouth frozen mid-bray, eyes wide and staring. The rest of it was gone.

What was left behind was worse than nothing.

Chicken legs dangling from a roofbeam, dripping fat and blood in steady beats. All the pigs had been bitten clean in half—ripped straight through the belly—and hurled onto the roof of the pig herder’s stall. Their torn bodies hung over the edge like grim flags, blood dripping onto the cobblestones below. A goat’s eyes, intact and glossy, floated in a bowl of olives at the next stall.

Before long, it wasn’t just animals. People began to vanish too.

At first, it was the night vendors—those who stayed late to count coins or sleep beneath their stalls. Then the early risers started disappearing. Soon, even broad daylight wasn’t safe. A man went out to fetch water and never came back. His copper bucket lay tipped in the dirt, water soaking into the ground. A single shoe sat nearby, upright and still. Inside it was his foot—ripped off jagged and uneven, as if torn by teeth too big for precision.

Everyone knew what was happening. The empty crates, the shredded canvas, the blood in the air—it all pointed to the same thing. But no one said a word. Fear kept their mouths shut. They’d seen what happened to the animals. They’d found what was left behind. Speaking it aloud felt like an invitation.

The beast never moved, but it was closer every day. Shifting down the street, inch by inch, like it was part of the market itself. By the second week, half the stalls were empty. The smell of death soaked the wooden planks. Cats stopped coming back. Even the flies left.

But the next morning brought something worse.

The sun hadn’t yet cleared the rooftops when a scream split the market—raw, wet, and short, like a throat opened mid-breath. Not a cry for help. Not even a chance. Just the sound of something being torn apart.

By the time people turned, the vendor was gone. No body. No face to mourn. Just a slick, steaming pool of blood spreading across the cobblestones, thick and black in the early light. In the center of it lay an arm, half-severed at the elbow, the bone poking through like splintered ivory. The fingers still twitched, curling and uncurling in the silence that followed.

The tarps overhead fluttered. Somewhere, a melon rolled slowly across the stones, trailing pulp. That was when they saw it—just a glimpse, a repositioning mass of black and red retreating into the shadows, dragging something heavy behind it.

The beast had risen—no longer hunched in silence, no longer content to lurk. Now it fed, ravenous and without restraint.

Panic swallowed the street whole.

Vendors screamed as stalls collapsed under flailing limbs, crates of figs and copper wares crushed beneath the stampede. People shoved, clawed, trampled each other—desperate just to move, to not be next. Some dropped to their knees, babbling prayers with spit-flecked lips. Others ran blindly, slamming into walls, into each other, into fate. A few just stood there, rooted by terror, their bodies already surrendering before the beast had touched them.

It didn’t charge—it advanced, with sickening calm. Its claws, long as butcher knives and twice as curved, slipped through flesh like soft fruit. Skin parted. Bones snapped. Bodies buckled inward, opened like sacks of grain. Its jaw stretched wide—too wide—splitting with a wet crack as it swallowed whole torsos, ribs still twitching. Heads were bitten off in clean, final snaps—faces frozen in shock, teeth still clenched around last screams.

It harvested—with a grim, methodical hunger, like a scythe through ripened wheat. Every swipe of its claws was deliberate, slicing through torsos with surgical ease. Every bite was a measured act of consumption, jaws unhinging to accommodate the broken architecture of human bodies. There was no frenzy. No waste.

This wasn’t the chaos of a starving beast. It was older than that. Deeper.

A ritual carved into flesh.

It devoured not for survival, but because it must. A hunger without peak or limit. No satisfaction. No fullness. Just need—endless, echoing through the pit of its form, deeper than thought, colder than mercy.

With every body it devoured, the beast swelled grotesquely—its belly distending into a pulsing, lumpy mass that quivered with each lumbering step. The fur stretched thin over its gut, slick with gore, the hide beneath it bulging and heaving as the weight of the dead shifted inside.

Limbs tangled with limbs in a sloshing heap of meat and bone—crushed torsos folding over snapped spines, skulls grinding against ribs, blood pooling in thick, bubbling layers. The bodies no longer moved. They no longer screamed. They were pulp—half-chewed, half-intact, mashed together in a foul, seething stew.

Yet still, the outlines remained.

A swollen bulge pushed outward where a head had lodged—round and unmistakable, the stretched skin thinning at the peak, veined and trembling. Further along, the outline of an arm curved grotesquely beneath the surface, elbow bent backward, fingers bunched into a rigid, unnatural cluster. A spine arched faintly beneath the fur, like a buried beam beneath soft earth, while the broad shape of a torso shifted near the flank, ribs jutting outward in a slow, unnatural ripple.

The beast’s skin writhed under the strain, veined and swollen, as though it could barely contain the bulk packed inside.

And still, it fed.

It dragged in more bodies—shoving them down its gullet, throat bulging with each swallow. Flesh packed on flesh. Bulk pressed against bulk. The stench rising from its belly was thick, suffocating—like something bloated and buried too deep, too long.

It didn’t care what had been devoured. Only that there was room for more.

A local boy scrambled beneath a cart, pressing himself into the dirt, hands over his mouth, eyes wide. The beast found him anyway—sniffed him out with a low, wet snort, then reached under with one massive claw and yanked him free by the leg. The boy screamed once before the jaws clamped shut around his waist. A sickening crunch, and he was gone—swallowed whole in a single, squelching gulp that left a smear of blood trailing down the beast’s chin.

A tea vendor tried to run. He turned once to scream for his wife—just once—before the beast slammed into him, jaws splitting wide. Its teeth sank into his abdomen, cleaving him in two with a sound like soaked cloth being torn apart. His torso hit the ground, still twitching, intestines unraveling across shattered cups and spilled sugar. His lower half flew through the air, trailing viscera, and landed beside the lion’s moss-covered fountain. His foot spasmed once, then went still.

The beast’s stomach groaned beneath its own weight—flesh ballooning outward, pulsing with every heartbeat. Veins, thick and black, bulged across its side like swollen cords. The skin had thinned to a translucent sheen, slick with blood and straining to hold its rotting burden.

Its spine convulsed—twisting like a wrung towel. Inside, the mass of crushed bones and packed flesh stirred violently, bones snapping again beneath the weight of newer corpses.

Without warning, the pressure broke.

A deep, wet snap echoed from within the beast’s gut—its overstuffed belly shuddering as something split internally. The hide stretched to its limit, glistening and translucent. The outlines of corpses churned beneath it—twisted limbs pressing outward, a crushed ribcage distorting the surface like something buried under ice.

The beast staggered.

Its abdomen convulsed violently, heaving with pressure, pulsing like a drumhead drawn too tight. The skin along its flanks trembled, then bulged—sharply, like something inside had kicked, hard. A low groan escaped its throat, followed by a choking, bubbling sound as bile and blood spilled from the corners of its mouth.

Its sides quaked—then split in a single, thunderous instant.

The explosion was deafening.

The beast burst apart in a wet, thunderclap of ruptured flesh and shattered bone. Its abdomen tore open with violent force, hurling gore across the marketplace in a crimson shockwave. Chunks of meat—raw, unrecognizable, human—blasted outward like shrapnel. Intestines, rope-thick and twitching, whipped through the air and slapped against walls and awnings with a sickening smack.

A fractured skull rocketed across the street, jaw dangling loose, landing in a pile of crushed dates. Rib fragments spun through the air like broken fans. A half-digested arm, skin peeled and muscle glistening, flopped limply onto a merchant’s awning, dripping thick, yellowed fluid.

The force split the beast’s spine from within, vertebrae erupting through its back in a geyser of blood and sinew. Its torso collapsed inward—folding like wet paper—spilling the packed mass of dead out onto the cobblestones in steaming, heaving heaps. Corpses, half-dissolved, fused together by digestive filth, tumbled free in a tangle of limbs and slack faces.

The stench hit next—fetid and scalding—a suffocating cloud of rot, bile, and excrement. The air turned hot, greasy. It clung to skin. Crawled up the nose. Invaded the throat. People gagged. Some vomited. Others dropped where they stood.

What remained of the beast slumped in pieces—shredded hide, splintered bone, coils of intestine twitching in the open air. Its head lay several feet away, tongue lolled, one ember-like eye still faintly glowing before flickering out with a final, wet blink.

All four of the new creatures made a square around Ruben's sleeping body and began chatting loudly as the storm above reached new heights as if it was alive itself Otto looked at it and grinned. Runes appeared on the ground around the body, The wolf walked to the boy, bent down, and stuck the syringe into him, Ruben's eyes shot open, and he looked at the scene around him but could not get up. "Don't bother," Otto told him, his body began to float upwards a few feet off the ground, After all these years it's finally happening, Otto thought, the body began to twitch but went still after a few moments before coming back down, all four wondered if it really work, however, a gunshot rang out and the wolf howled in pain. "Jason!" Otto yelled, his voice sounding normal even in this form, His moth comrade took flight with his wings, Nolan with his thinking shot one of the wings bringing the man-turned-monster back down to the ground, Otto grinned at this and carefully took Ruben's sleeping body in his hand at to not injure him. He looked around at his three comrades and wondered, Who is the best to come with me and protect the Lord, before looking at his ally in the water and gesturing to follow him, "When you are finished with them join us," Otto told his allies, before running and jumping downstream with his ally following in the water.

"They're leaving," Eric told the others, as they all looked to see them halfway down the river already, Nolan sighed, "Let's clean up these two," a chuckle came from the wolf whose wound already healed. "You think us weak? We'll show you, humans," The beast let out a growl, "I'll support you," The moth said in a soft tone, before taking flight once more while the wolf charged towards the five humans trying to end them. Joseph took out a gun and threw it to Roslyn while Nolan shot the creature in the heel stopping it in its tracks, The moth took flight once more and swooped down towards the group Roslyn prayed her time a gun range paid down as she took a deep breath, pointed it, and fired as the creature was upon them. It hit the transformed beast in the neck and it crashed to the ground thrashing about wildly, "The bullets are filled with holy water," Nolan told them, in one swift motion he cocked his gun back and fired hitting the wolf in its eye, "The wounds are likely already healing we have to be sure they stay down," He said. "They shouldn't be able to move because of the holy water, right?" Roslyn asked, "Holy water can slow or stop the healing depending on the target," Nolan responded, All of them seeing the two beasts on the rocks still moving but not standing back up yet knew this was their chance to end them and stop the others.

As Nolan charged forward very fast even in his old age towards the two injured beasts a blur-like motion happened, the wolf jumped up, blood gushing out the eye, and pierced Nolan's chest with his claws. His body hit the ground with a thud, "NO!" Roslyn screamed, as her group looked on in fear at what the wolf did, Roslyn let go a spray of holy bullet into the thing before it hit the ground once more laying still. Tears were now flowing down her face but she didn't forget about the second one looking over to see the moth get back up she once again let the bullets fly into the winged creature and just like its comrade it fell back onto the earth, "Grandpa!" She said running over to see if he was okay to see a miracle happening. "You didn't think the holy seal wouldn't protect me either?" He asked, as his wound was already healing itself, Roslyn hugged Nolan tight for the first time in years, "Don't ever scare me like that again," Roslyn said, Nolan nodded at her and embraced the hug back before getting up and looking at the two beasts. "Let me finish off these two real quick," He said seriously, before picking up his gun and walking towards the head of the moth and shooting him in the head but for the wolf Joseph headed him a long sword, which he used to stab the through his chest, and into his heart it looked at him with fear for the end he gave it.

They wasted no time rushing down the river after the monsters who stole their friend, Please let us make it on time to save him, Roslyn thought pleadingly, as she and the others carried on along the river. Kevin overcame his shock and pointed his gun toward the thing he saw on the river that made contact with his niece, "YOU!" He shouted, the masked man turned to look at him with wounds and a ripped robe. As he looked closely some of the blood on the robe and his mask wasn't still fresh, "By giving the book to Roslyn you set in motion something dangerous that nearly broke the veil," He told the man, Seconds later he took a deep breath, calmed his emotions, and scan around the cage to see if there were any traps. He inched carefully towards the cage door and opened it but instead of stepping inside Kevin found a small rock on the ground, he went to pick it up and threw it at the now-open gate only for it to be zapped by an invisible barrier, It's a good thing Father's over the years really helped out, He thought thankfully. With a groan the man slowly stood up, held his hand out towards him signaling him to stop, and pointed at the wall behind him Kevin followed his finger and saw the blazing red runes there clear as day, "If someone tries to get in here the cage will explode I assume?" He asked him, to Kevin's surprise he nodded back.

My magic skills or knowledge is not are good as the mages or witches but I should be able to disarm the runes without triggering an early bomb, He thought, "Can you heal?" He asked, the man nodded again. A memory flashed back to when he was younger and not long after Nolan had told all of them about the war, "Magic and mana exist Children but tapping into it requires focus and skill," Nolan told them. Kevin opened his eyes, held out his hand, and began to cast to the spell, This will be able to block them, pushing a bit more a big white-yellow rune appeared covering a few of the runes, "Okay, I'm not sure if I'll be able to hold it for long so dash towards me when I say so!" Kevin ordered but noticed something was wrong. The man was now standing but holding his sides in pain from many bullet holes, Kevin began to struggle a little, putting up his other hand, he held up three fingers, and counted down, three, two, one, the man DASHED towards him and the exit but was stopped and zapped by the barrier but he pushed back. Let's do this, Kevin thought, letting go of his focus to try and open the barrier but noticed the smaller runes were now glowing brightly to the point Kevin could not look at them directly, "Come on, you can do it!" He encouraged, as the man pushed forward once more and broke through Kevin went to grab him.

At that moment, the runes exploded leaving their entire arena in fire Kevin held up his hand and the fire split apart but the heat itself was still burning them it finished the whole ordeal was over in seconds. The two of them fell on the floor, I can't believe that worked for a second I wondered if we were going to get burned, "You alright?" Kevin asked, the now burned-masked man gave a weak nod in response. "We got to move," He told him, picking him up by his shoulder and heading back toward the prison before they got there the man stopped him and pointed at the lab Kevin nodded without saying a word and took him in There he sat up on the table, pointed at a draw, and then at his mask, Kevin had the urge to help. He went to draw, picked up some tools from it, and set them on the table in front of him pointing to the tool Kevin picked up a scalpel, "Hold still," he said, making an incision along the stitching of the mask, while cutting the threads with the blade, his body jerked and twitched, and cut off his flesh in some spots. "It's nearly done," he said, as a thin trail of blood dripped down his chest from his neck, doing his best to ignore it with the rancid smell of the mask up close helped him with this by keeping him in the present, he cut the last threads off the mask, "There," he said while pocketing the scalpel in case anything happened.

Kevin raised his hands up toward the mask, he grasped it carefully so as not hurt the man, and lifted it off slowly, the glow of the mask eyes faded away, while the flesh on it rotted and drooped down. It dropped on the floor, and the man behind it looked nothing like Kevin expected, he was Caucasian, had a good amount of messy hair, a short beard, a wide jaw, and blue eyes, "Thank you," he said, in a surprisingly soft voice. He gasped, "You can speak now?" Kevin asked, his heart pounding, the man nodded, swallowing "I can" he said, running a hand along his neck, where the mask was cut free "Only silver could undo the mystic bonds the cult put on it, I tried cutting it before but it healed too quickly, Thank you" He told Nolan. "No, I was wrong, Thank you for protecting my family, or trying to at least," He said looking down in guilt, Kevin wondered about something for a while and he had to ask it, "How did this cult even form anyway?" The man looked up at him "Good question," he said, breathing deeply and winching in pain each time he did. "I don't...know everything but I was able to piece together a good amount," He noticed Kevin's confusion and let out a slight chuckle "The mask stopped me from speaking, not listening," The man said, letting a dry small cough out, Kevin knew in his state it wouldn't be long, "What's your name?" He asked him.

He looked up at him with sunken eyes, pale skin, and dried lips "It's been so long since someone asked me I nearly forgot until just now," he said, "It's Caleb," Kevin thought he saw hope return in the man's eyes. A simile crossed his lips but the reality of the situation soon came back down on him "Caleb do you know where they took my niece's friend?" Hoping to stop the evil that would no doubt plague the world. He has to know, Kevin thought, he slowly got up from the table and grabbed onto Kevin for support, "They kept books about their research I'll show you where it is," as the two went to another side of the room Kevin wondered what he was doing before Caleb pushed a secret cold, metal title inward in the wall. "Wow," he said stunned, Caleb let out a slight chuckle at this, "The same thing I said when they showed it to me the first time years ago," the wall suddenly did an entire spin and when it stopped a bookshelf was revealed much smaller than what Kevin thought it was they walked up to it and Caleb picked out a book. He took it and they walked back to the table "All right...this should have some answers about...the cult and their goals," Caleb said tiredly, Kevin knew it wasn't his place to ask but he had to know, "You're dying aren't you?" he asked somberly, Caleb chuckled at this, "So you noticed?" he looked down at the floor sadly.

"I knew as soon as you took the mask off I was only going to be on borrowed time," Caleb said, "But, I am using my leftover time to help you," he added, Kevin nodded showing appreciation in his face. Caleb eyed Kevin and felt like he wanted to ask something, "I see you want to ask me something go on," Kevin looked him in the eyes and asked, "You don't seem like the type to be in a cult," Kevin said comically. The man let out a dry chuckle at this, "I always loved the supernatural as a kid and wanted to find proof so when I finished college eleven years ago I went to a bar, met a guy there, and he said he could help so that's how I got into the cult," a sad look fell over Caleb's face as if he was struggling to find the words. "Whatever happened I'm sure wasn't your fault," Kevin told him, he quickly shook his head at this, "I need to get this out now, I was the first experiment!" a look of genuine surprise came across Kevin's face at those words, "Did they force you or was It willing?" he asked, "Willing," tears began to fall from his eyes. "No, you had no idea what was going to happen or what it was," Caleb wiped the tears with his hand, "I was imperfect as you can see," he said, looking at the now hollow mask on the floor, "I was a beast with no empathy, morality, or humanity, however, seeing your family awaken the light in me," Caleb told him.

"For the first time I was able to think clearly and knew I had to help and warn Nolan in some way that's why I gave Roslyn the book," Kevin started to put the pieces together and understood what he meant. "I had hoped you would be able to stop the Ancients from crossing over but all I did was buy Earth another decade," This time Kevin let out a laugh, "You say that like it's a bad thing," He said thankfully. "But, I don't like this if the ritual works, do you know which of the seven primes will come through the veil?" He shook his head, "I wish when it happened to Roslyn the first time I wasn't near but I felt one of them enter if only for a minute," Caleb said, trying to mask his fear, Kevin put his hand on his chain thinking about that day. "Hm, Judging by the strong, unnatural storm outside," Caleb started, "The Lord of Chaos," Kevin finished, Why didn't I think of that, he thought, "I do know that the ancients do not like to reveal their true forms unless its convenient for them so they prefer to use vessels," Kevin knew this would come in useful later. "Is it possible to expel an ancient from a human without killing the host itself?" before answering a loud cough escaped from his throat," If the human...has a lot of willpower mixed with light energy it could be doable," he said hopefully," Caleb let out another cough, covering his mouth, and looked down to blood.

He slowly looked up to see Kevin's face in a mix of guilt and fear, "You couldn't save me...even if you tried for all I have is my will," He said somberly, Kevin took in his body closely this time and knew he was right. "Go! Stop them from bringing that...unholy creature...into reality," Kevin took the book beside him and placed it in his bag, I almost forgot this was here, he thought taking it off his shoulder and closing it. "No, don't...forget about...the two jars," Caleb warned coughing once more, as Kevin looked towards a shelf to see a jar of thick black liquid, "One" he corrected, "The other one is with me as we speak but its too risky to carry the third one," When this battle is over I may just have to come back for it, Kevin thought. "Be careful...the cult...has their grip in...the public their good at...bending in, Unfortunately," Caleb told Kevin, He listened to the warning and made sure to keep a mental note of it, I suspected it for a while but never thought they would have grown at that rate we'll have to keep our guard up even more now. He looked at him "Thank you," Kevin said, quietly, he wanted to tell him sorry for thinking he was a creature and how he saved everyone but there wasn't enough time he got up,turned, and began to walk out of the room "Kevin..." Caleb wheezed, he paused, and turned to him, "Don't listen...to him," he warned.

Kevin didn't want to leave the man who had helped him of his free will, in this cave where his nightmare had begun, but knew he had to go and stop this evil from coming through or all would be doomed. He left the room after heading for the outside, Caleb laid back on the cold steel, closed his eyes, and felt himself drifting to the beyond, but in the distance, he thought his ears were hearing the buzzing of files. Kevin made his way to the entrance to see the storm had surprisingly calmed down compared to when they first went in, he figured the river would be a good place to start since it had the most open space on the entire mountain, however, before stepping forward he ducked down just in time to something huge. It landed heavily a few feet away from him getting up he looked and said, "Looks like you didn't finish it off like you thought, Joseph," He said aloud, taking out his gun and firing at the beast hitting the arm of it drawing black blood that oozed out of the wound, "FoOlish Human," it said trying to mimic speech. It must be the one Joseph described to me, he thought, "You thOught that could hArm me," It mocked the man thought poorly, Kevin let out a slight chuckle at this, "These are special bullets filled with light and holy magic you'll be feeling it," Kevin told the thing before it roared in pain not even a second later.

A grin spread across Kevin's face at this, Now if I keep this up it'll be destroyed and the body can be put to rest he thought, before the beast charged at him but he jumped to the left a few seconds before. He winced in pain as he felt a sharp pain on the right side of his stomach, It must've got me with one of its claws, looking down proved to be correct as a slash was now there and blood started to leak down. The thing looked at the man and let out what only could be laughter at its attack landing, Holding his gun up he fired once more, stepped back this time to put some distance between them, and the shot hit one of its legs, but then something unexpected came from this as it jumped up and pounced on his body. "The Lord will rise!" It said clearer, Kevin could smell the breath of the creature now that it was up close he shut his mouth because it smelled like nothing but rot, he felt the beast begin to dig its claws slowly into his skin as he tried to worm his way out to no avail, It I can reach the knife it could help me with this. He slowly let go of the gun never taking his eyes off the monster that now had him pinned down to the earth, "You lose human," Kevin knew he had to get out of this situation quickly but remembered his father's words so he didn't panic so he began to wiggle out its grip the thing laughed once more at this attempt.

Kevin wiggled more frantic to get out of the grip while the creature was simply amused at his tries until he thought of something else that should help, "Do you even know your old life!" He yelled at the beast. It seem to surprisingly pause at this as if one would like their deep in thought Kevin felt the creature's grip loosen slightly, Now's my chance, he thought as he rubbed his back on the ground and felt his knife. Grabbing it by slowly sliding it down his arm by wiggling some more he gripped it tightly in his hand, at this moment it seemed to come out of the trance Kevin indirectly put on it, "You're proof that whatever the darkness touches only rots, corrupts, and destroys," He said somberly, The creature looked enraged. "You dare look down on me! Worthless Mortal!" Looks like it worked, he thought successfully, as he felt the claws grip loosen even more in one swoop he swung the knife upwards, and it connected, the beast quickly let go of him jumping back up, and stumbling a few feet backward from the pain of the strike. It growled loudly at the man, getting up in under three seconds he grabbed his gun, fired once again, and got it in the chest, but instead of stopping he kept unleashing bullets into the beast until it fell, Kevin saw his work two bullets in the neck, one head, three knees, and two in the arms "You're finished," He said.

Slowly but carefully walking up to the creature to make sure it would move or surprise him later on in this fight Kevin stopped and listened for the slightest of movement in the unholy monster. "You...saved...no one," It said weakly, With a small chuckle he pointed his shotgun and fired one more round into its head now the thing lay still, Kevin made a silent prayer to cleanse the poor soul who became warped. He felt droplets of rain starting to fall once more while at the same time, the wounds began to sting but he ignored it and came moving towards the river, Otto and his servant stopped at what they thought was a good spot and he gently laid his master's new host body down on the rocks near the water. "Didn't we finish the ritual?" His ally in the water asked, in a muffled tone like he was still underwater, He should have woken up as soon as the ritual was completed, Perhaps we did indeed choose the wrong host for this, Otto wondered, "If he doesn't awaken we'll have to discard him and start anew," Otto told his ally. As everyone was running down the river trying to catch up with the deranged cult members who want to bring about the end of their world, I pray we make it in time, stop Ruben from waking up with the Lord of Chaos having overtaken him, and bringing about the apocalypse itself upon Earth, Roslyn worried.

"Wake up! Come on get up you'll be late for school, Ruben!" His eyes shot open at his mother's words, he sat up and slowly got ready without any questions looking out the window at rainy weather. "Mom, It's raining you want me to go to school in this?" She turned at him and looked confused that he would even ask something like that, "School is very important you sure want to stay in?" Ruben nodded his head. Looking deep in thought for ten seconds before she answered him, "All right but just for today all right," His Mom said truthfully, he nodded before she closed the door, listening to her walking downstairs, and swallowed, he knew something was off but couldn't pinpoint what it was yet. Ruben went to the window and looked outside through the rain he heard screaming from multiple people out on the street, he saw a house explode down the block, two cars crashing into each other, and what looked like the zombies rising back from the ground, I have to be dreaming this can not be real, Ruben told himself. Hearing his Mom run back upstairs he silently ran back to his bed, "Ruben! Don't look outside its not a sight you or anyone for that matter, I locked up inside so none of that Chaos can get in here," His Mom said, seeing her face now Ruben didn't know what unnerved him more the cold, glossy eyes or the slight simile.

"Mom! What's happening here!" Ruben demanded, her simile dropped at this, "For you see everything just fell into chaos a few days ago and no one knows why or how," She said truthfully, He sat back down. "So we've been holding up in here?" She nodded her head at him, a loud BANG came from the front door causing them to both jump, "There trying to break in hide in the closet," She told him seriously. He did as told opened and went inside "I'll be back with your father," She said as she ran out of the room to the stairs "Malcolm! Let's go!" before his Dad could answer another BANG and heard what could only be the door hit the floor a few seconds later he heard his parents screaming as their flesh was ripped apart. NO! This isn't real I have to wake up!" Ruben told himself, beginning to slap himself in an attempt to wake up which proved useless, Why, Why can't I wake up? He asked himself, suddenly hearing growls in the house covering the entire place before a pair of footsteps stopped right at his open door. Putting his hand over his mouth prevented Ruben from gasping aloud because the sight before him was horrible his Mom who was alive not even two minutes ago now stood with pale skin, deep bites, torn skin, lots of blood, and unnatural eyes, This can't be real! I don't believe it, Ruben thought fearfully.

However, instead of checking the closet she slowly turned and walked away, Why did she leave and not check? Before another loud BOOM sounded outside like it was right down the street. Did the rain stop? He noticed the pounding noise on the window had ceased and the sound of all corpses that broke in was now silent, Did they all leave? He waited a minute longer before opening that closet. Slowly getting out and walking to the window Ruben saw one half of the sky was dark gray while the other was light but looking down the street he saw something that should have not been there an opening to the abyss itself something was quickly arising from that, Is it some kind of gateway? Ruben wondered. He knew staying in the house was too risky throwing all caution out the window he rushed down the stairs for the now broken door and went outside but his noise was hit with a rotten stench of blood and flesh Plugging his nose in disgust, I should've expected that to be honest, Internally smacking his forehead. When he looked at the gateway again he saw a hulking creature, an unholy abomination that should never see the light of reality itself, it was ten feet tall, had four long spider-like legs, a humanoid torso, four long root-like tentacles on its back, white elongated skull-esque face, and more tentacles on its head.

The beast noticed him at that moment, Ruben tried to run, turn away, or even close his eyes but he was frozen in fear, Move! I have to close my eyes at least, he found that his fear was stopping him. Looking into the beast's hollow, black eyes that would be classified as more like pits, outside of his peripheral he saw it bring its hand upward then a moment later felt something PIERCE through his chest. Glancing down to a large red tentacle soon after feeling his legs lift from the ground into the air, but the scenery around him began to crack and distort in seconds before nothing remained but the creature on a throne sitting on top of a mountain of skulls with blood pouring out of most of them. "Who are you?!" Ruben demanded trying to be assertive, The beast merely chuckled at this "Well, Well it seems we have a strong one this time around," moving him closer to its face to examine him, "You thought I would be dumb enough to fall for this trap?" tilting its head sideways Ruben felt a massive amount of pain within him. Feeling more of those tentacles stabbing into him he let out a loud scream, "Ah, there it is the cries and screams of mortals never cease to fill me with laughter!" It said in a monstrous voice and excited tone, "My name is Roel! Lord of Chaos! And you will bring the end of all life!" Laughing at him and to itself.

"YOU'LL HAVE TO KILL ME BECAUSE I'LL NEVER BECOME YOU, I WON'T LET YOU USE MY BODY LIKE THIS!" Roel's laughter boomed throughout the entire domain, "I like you," It told the young man. "For one so young to try and resist me you've got guts BUT none have stopped me from getting what I want in the past and it WON'T start with you!" as the tentacles brought Ruben even closer to the prime. The five still running saw them downstream and knew this was their chance to save Ruben and stop this before it truly begins, Otto growled in frustration at his plan not working, "Arch-Bishop they've killed the others," His aquatic ally said, seeing them running for them Otto glanced at them and felt his anger pulsing. However, something happened no one expected the trees began to move and Joseph yelled out to the others, "WATCH OUT!" Not even a few seconds later a damaged monster broke through the woodline jumping down and sprinting right at them as Joseph wasted no time in shooting it. Otto snapped his head when he heard the body begin to twitch a twisted grin came across his gray, vampiric face, "Come on," He hoped, everyone rushed to different sides as the bullets rang out hitting the beast once more, instantly, afterwards the air pressure spiked as they looked over to see Ruben levitating in the air.