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The entity did not emerge from Arya's body. It slithered out of her shadow—the dark pool stretching beneath Maryam's weight.
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In the moment before the monster's teeth could pierce skin, the wooden floor split open. A dense blackness yawned up. From it, shadowy claws—sharp, sudden, sprouted from nothing—sank into Maryam's shoulders. Then, with a brutal upward thrust, the entity drove its head and massive body into her chest. The force wasn't human. It lifted Maryam clean off Arya and hurled her across the room. She hit the far wall with a sick, heavy thud.
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The black entity rose before Arya.
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A massive cat, the size of a wolf. Violet light rippled through its form. Its feline features were carved from pure darkness. Its eyes burned violet—hellish, promising. It stood on four legs, its long tail coiling behind it like a serpent of smoke.
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Arya remained on her knees, still crumpled under the weight of the pain and transformation that had torn through her body moments before. Her eyes were wide, fixed on Maryam—or what remained of her—as the creature tried to rise, claws shredding the wood beneath it, a broken roar tearing from its throat.
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[Defensive Protocol Activated]
[Summoning Mental Power: Devil — Form 1 (Shadow Legion)]
Active Entity: First Shadow (Shadow Cat).
Cost: 15 Spirit Points (Initial Summon).
Duration Condition: The Shadow remains as long as consciousness is stable.
Note: Any injury the Shadow sustains will deduct from Spirit Points for healing.
[Current Spirit: 25 / 50]
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As the entity materialized, Arya felt no safety. She felt an ember inside her die. The cold that had started in her limbs now crawled inward, fast, wrapping around the core of her consciousness.
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She stared at the thing that had been Maryam. Her tears stopped. Her ragged breathing stilled. In their place: a terrifying calm.
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[Warning: Psychological stress has exceeded allowable thresholds.]
[Psychological Effect: Devilish Cold — Active.]
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---
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The monster rebounded off the wall with a shattered roar, claws gouging wood as it scrambled for balance. Maryam's features had vanished entirely behind a mask of primal savagery. Her eyes, sheathed in white, saw nothing but prey.
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Arya stood in the center of the room like a statue carved from ice. The only part of her that still moved was her shadow—writhing beneath her feet like a sea of ink.
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Kill it.
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She didn't speak the words. She hurled the thought through the link of consciousness that bound her to the Shadow Cat.
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In a split second, the Shadow Cat lunged. It didn't run—it flowed across the floor like a black flash. The monster leaped, trying to crush the entity under its weight, but the Shadow Cat twisted in midair with a grace that broke physics. Its front claws punched into the monster's throat.
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Both crashed to the ground. The Shadow Cat dominated. It buried its shadowy fangs into the deformed neck. Violet energy seeped from its mouth, flooding the monster's body. Maryam convulsed—one last spasm—then her limbs began to dissolve. Black ash fluttered into the air, scattering before it could touch the ground.
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[Target Eliminated: Common Monster — Rank F]
[Experience Gained: +5 XP]
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The Shadow Cat stood over the drifting ash. Then it turned toward Arya. Its features were sharp, terrifying—but it stayed still. Waiting.
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Where the monster had fallen, three bronze coins materialized. A faint halo pulsed around them.
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[Reward: 3 Bronze Coins]
[Material Drop: Core Shard — Rank F]
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---
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The noise died. A heavy, funeral silence filled the room, broken only by the buzzing of a flickering bulb overhead. The black ash that had been Maryam swirled in the air like dead butterflies. In the debris where she had fallen, three bronze coins glinted. Beside them lay a dull shard—like shattered glass, pulsing with an erratic, sickly light.
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Inside Arya's chest, her Core began to pulse. Not like a heartbeat. Like an ancient hunger that had just woken up.
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She stared at the Core Shard. It wasn't just loot. It was the remains of a consciousness that had failed the integration. A disgusting urge rose in her—an urge to touch it. It didn't come from her mind. It came from the black void nesting behind her ribs.
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Is this what I'm going to become? she asked herself, the horror silent, her hand already moving against her will. As if it no longer belonged to her. Am I going to build my strength on the remains of people I knew?
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The moment her fingers brushed the shard, black threads shot out of it. They coiled around her hand like starving ghosts. Pain followed—the shard melting, piercing her skin like cold needles, racing through her veins to settle inside her Core. A faint heat spread through her. It revealed a new contamination invading her body. But it was enough. Enough to reinforce her weakened muscle fibers. Slightly. Disgustingly.
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She didn't need a screen to tell her. She felt every atom of it being digested inside her being. It was a feeling of fullness and filth at the same time—as if she had swallowed something forbidden. She wished she could vomit this power back up. She wished she could expel the strange warmth now invading her limbs. But her Core stayed silent and satisfied, whispering coldly from her depths: More.
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After a moment of this physical violation, the confirmation she didn't want to see appeared.
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[Status Update: Soul Remains Absorbed]
Experience: +5 XP (Current Level: 1 | 10/100)
Physical Attributes: +0.1 Strength (Muscle fibers enhanced)
Stability: 80%
Status: Remains successfully digested.
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The screen faded. She was alone.
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She looked at her trembling hand. Had she become stronger? Maybe. But it was a negligible gain. The price had been the complete erasure of Maryam's humanity.
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The Shadow Cat stepped back with demonic poise. Its violet eyes—those halos that would always remind Arya of the cost—fixed on her pale face for one long second. The look held something. A hint of poisoned loyalty. Then it melted, dissolving into her still shadow.
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[Psychological Effect: Devilish Cold — Deactivated.]
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---
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The Devilish Cold lifted.
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Reality detonated in her face like a time bomb.
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The room went utterly still, as if the world were holding its breath. The cold receded—and human awareness slammed back into Arya with the full force of the truth.
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She looked at her hands. They were horrifyingly clean. No blood. No trace of Maryam's final struggle.
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"Maryam?"
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She called the name. It echoed back at her from the empty walls of the living room, cold and cutting. She crawled on her knees toward the spot where Maryam had vanished. She touched the shattered wood. She searched for a single hair, for any physical trace her cursed Core hadn't swallowed. She found only particles of black ash. They lodged under her fingernails like an eternal tattoo.
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"Did... did I really kill her?"
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Arya's voice was a thin thread about to snap in a sea of silence.
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She looked like the wreckage of a person in the wreckage of a home. The moon, which had watched the slaughter in silence, cast its silver light through the broken window. It drew a long shadow of Arya across the floor. That black mass beneath her was no longer just a trick of the light. It was a living thing. Still. Like a sleeping beast that had just fed.
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A sharp stab pierced her chest. Not from the Core—from her human heart, the one that refused to believe. She looked at the three bronze coins lying there. They didn't look like reward. They looked like blood money. Dirty coins that made her want to vomit.
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Maryam. The woman who had gathered up the pieces of her after her mother's death. Her only family. The last link to the life she had before the world turned upside down. All those years of tenderness, of worrying over her, of a voice that used to quiet her loneliness—reality had now reduced them to three worthless metal coins in the dust.
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Bitter nausea clawed at her throat. This is all?
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She bent forward until her forehead touched the cold floor. She shut her eyes hard, trying to summon Maryam's face before it had turned into a monster. But all she saw were two red eyes gleaming in the darkness of her mind.
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She was still on her knees, her fingers buried in the cold ash that had been Maryam. The silence rang in her ears like a muffled scream. She could hear her own heartbeat—fast, desperate—slamming against her ribs with pure human terror.
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"Maryam... I..."
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She couldn't finish. The words dissolved in her throat as a new sound tore through the quiet. It didn't come from her mind.
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It came from the reality beyond the apartment door.
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Crack... crack...
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Outside, the silence that had fallen over the neighborhood after the first shock was beginning to shatter. Violently.
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In the house next door, their neighbor Liam was struggling—shoving uselessly against a distorted creature, its grotesque muscles bulging behind his broken window. The street was no longer quiet. The paved neighborhood lane had become a hunting ground. The sounds of bodies slamming into walls, of wood splintering, erupted from every direction.
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And the time granted for the protection period was running out. Fast. Like an hourglass about to empty. Heralding the collapse of the last barrier keeping the monsters from the walls.
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Then, from an emergency speaker somewhere on the street—or maybe a radio left on in a nearby house—a trembling broadcaster's voice cut through the static and noise:
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"...Emergency broadcast... repeated sightings of non-human entities across multiple residential zones... the situation is beyond containment... all citizens are advised to remain in place, fortify entry points, and do not..."
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The transmission died in a massive metallic crash. The silence that followed was worse.
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Arya was not living a private nightmare. The whole world was being remade in blood outside.
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She knelt in the wreckage of her living room, her body trembling under the weight of the transformation it had absorbed. Ash coated her hands. In that moment, the house felt like a silent tomb. Outside, the world seethed with a chaos she couldn't see. And the time left to prepare was thinning in her awareness—a fragile thread about to snap.
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Her breath froze.
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A rhythmic sound was coming from the neighboring house. Then Liam's scream shredded the silence. It cut off abruptly—replaced by a wet, obscene tearing.
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Memory slammed into her like a slap. She remembered what she had seen from the window minutes ago: the street turned slaughterhouse, Ra'ad the dog devouring his owner with hungry red eyes. She remembered locking the window with trembling hands, believing she would be safe behind walls.
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The scream from the other side of the adjoining wall shattered that illusion.
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The walls might protect her now. But it was temporary. She remembered the system's words with brutal clarity, the countdown ticking away in her mind. Every second she spent here was bleeding away that fragile safety—before the world collapsed completely on top of her head.
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She swallowed the lump in her throat. Hard. She forced her emotions to retreat.
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Not now. She whispered it to herself, cold and flat.
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The weight of the battle still pressed on her body. Every pain from the fall reminded her of how fragile her limits were. Every drop of power she had expended moments ago had left its trace in her veins—like cold fire creeping through her depths. Dizziness coiled around her skull. Some of her limbs betrayed her, her body refusing to respond after everything it had just endured.
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Her heart raced. Each beat felt like an extra chance—or a warning of failure. She felt the weight of every second as it passed. Time itself was pressing down on her, reminding her that survival wasn't secured yet. That every moment of calm now was just a brief pause before the world lunged at her again.
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Memories rushed back, her mind trying to cement everything before it could be erased: Maryam's face. Those red eyes she would never forget. The smell. The sounds. The movement. Every instant of the last struggle. Every second of pain it had left in her body and soul.
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She shut her eyes for a moment, trying to calm the tangle of fear and shock and exhaustion. But there was no refuge inside her. Every sensation, every reminder of reality, pressed in. Survival hadn't been earned yet. She was still standing on the edge of something unknown and terrifying.
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Every second that passed was a merciless hourglass. Every breath a reminder that life, in this moment, had become a game with razor edges. Every remaining second was a chance. And every chance could mean the difference between survival and loss.
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and then Add to home screen.