The presence of a Doom activates the sword.
That final line glowed on the status screen like a divine warning.
Alex Knight's breath caught.
His eyes, sharp despite exhaustion, lifted from the floating notification to the thing writhing in the smoke-filled crater before him—the twisted husk that had once been Malik. No… this wasn't Malik anymore. This was something else entirely.
What remained of the man's body convulsed violently, bones cracking, skin splitting. Smoke didn't just rise from his corpse—it pulsed through it. Veins of shadow curled and wove across muscle and bone like a spiderweb made of nightmares, binding every inch of flesh in a lattice of black corruption.
He was no longer mutating.
He was becoming.
Alex felt it then—the sword in his hand.
The Doom Slayer.
It vibrated—not from fear, but anticipation. As if it had waited for this moment. For *this* enemy.
