All Mikel asked for was a little — just a little bit — of time to process this warped reality that cracked open the moment he opened these mismatched eyes. But no. The ghosts wouldn't wait. The malevolent spirits that took on grotesque forms wouldn't either. Not Doom. Not his cursed relics. Not anyone.
I can't even be a little depressed in peace?!
He ground his teeth, glaring at the malnourished, oversized creature staring back at him.
Its skeletal frame stretched freakishly tall, limbs too long for its body, skin clinging to bone like it had been vacuum-sealed. Its bulging eyes looked ready to pop. A few brittle strands of hair clung to its otherwise bald scalp. Worst of all, its mouth wasn't stitched shut—it simply didn't exist, as if it had been born silent.
But what really caught his eye?
Its spidery fingers weren't just dragging along the ground—they were buried in the walls of the house before it. Now he understood the bone-like pipes that sprouted inside the home.
It was its fingers all along.
Crack… crack… crack…
A slow, bone-grinding noise filled the air as something shifted behind the creature's shoulder blade. Mikel's expression twisted in dismay, watching in real time as its malformed body evolved.
With a sickening pop, something tore free—another bone jutting out from under its skin, unfurling into what looked like a centipede made entirely of interlocking bones.
Can I even exorcise this thing?!
It looked starved, sure, but that didn't make it any less disturbing. In fact, it was more grotesque than the Nightbound—and way bigger. Mikel felt like an insect standing in front of it.
[You can, with the help of the Grimoire.]
That was the problem.
How the hell am I supposed to exorcise something when I don't even know its name?
Fear was an understatement. Panic didn't even come close.
Mikel ignored the barrage of prompts flashing at the edge of his vision, his chest heaving and falling in rapid bursts. Doom could wait. That thing couldn't.
The air felt heavier by the second, the stench of decay thick enough to gag on. But underneath it, something faint… something familiar tickled his senses.
They stared at each other: Mikel, tense and alert, ready for its next move.
The creature? It looked curious.
That was the strangest part. But he didn't have time to question it because, in the blink of an eye, two fingers — each as thick as his torso — were already in front of him.
Shit—
Boogsh!
One of the fingers grazed his stomach, and it was enough to send him flying. He slammed into the low concrete fence, crashing through it like a ragdoll. The impact punched the air out of his lungs, his breath locking up as a pained grunt escaped his throat, and his vision blurred for a second.
And that wasn't even a direct hit.
"Damn…" Mikel coughed as chunks of crumbling concrete tumbled off his body. He pushed himself up, wincing.
Big. Slim. Fast. That was the worst combination for an enemy.
[Warning: Incoming Attack.]
For once, Doom's warning wasn't late.
At the same time, the ground beneath him quivered. His muscles locked for a second, feeling something coming from underneath the surface.
Uh oh.
Without any time to think, he rolled hard, just as something burst from beneath the surface.
Concrete exploded into the air as a bone centipede-like structure launched upward from the earth, right where he'd been lying.
Time slowed for him, and Mikel held his breath as debris hovered in the air. His eyes widened as the bone structure twisted in midair and shot toward him. It was clear it wasn't planning on giving him a second to breathe.
"Ah!" He rolled again, the projectile missing him by inches.
Crack!
It impaled the concrete where he'd just been, splitting the slab and leaving a crater in its wake.
Had that hit him…
He would've been cleaved in half.
Mikel's jaw tensed like a vise, rooted in place as his eyes locked onto the jagged shoulder blade retracting from the cracked slab of concrete.
[Master, staring at it will not kill it.]
A sharp pinch tugged at his wrist; a reminder from the bracelet that there was no time to waste. This time, Mikel didn't even flinch at the stinging sensation.
I know, he thought. But charging in blindly won't either.
Boogsh!
Another bone structure erupted from the ground. Mikel sprang sideways, barely evading it—only to see the first one already arcing back toward him.
No pause. No chance to recover. They just kept coming to attack one after another.
Mikel hit the ground hard, skidding before planting a foot to slow his momentum. His fingers wrapped around the Grimoire he had dropped earlier.
He snapped his eyes up. They weren't just attacking — they were hunting. Keeping him down. Drowning him in a storm of bone and fury.
And Mikel knew it.
Without hesitation, he flipped the Grimoire open mid-air and let it float, pages flipping in a blur as pale smoke spilled into the air.
His eyes stayed locked on the next bone spear piercing through the mist — even as he sensed the first one above him, the extended shoulder blade hurtling down for a finishing strike.
He didn't breathe, didn't even blink.
For a heartbeat, time stalled, and his heart stopped.
Then—
Mikel slapped his hands together. His action also made the Grimoire snap shut with a sharp clack, trapping the incoming bone structure between its pages. A sharp gust of wind blew past him, causing a thin scratch on his cheek.
In the same motion, the beaded bracelet on his wrist shattered, unraveling into a long, dark chain.
The Blood Chain.
It lashed forward, coiling around the impaled bone like a serpent. Mikel gripped the end tightly.
The next moment, the chain yanked him backward — just in time when another bone spike tore through the spot where he'd been standing, punching a hole clean through the concrete.
Mikel spun around the pinned structure, landing behind it. With a quick twist, he looped the chain tighter, binding it like a leash. The Grimoire dropped beside him, its pages fluttering closed with a thud.
But there was no time to rest.
The second bone — the one that had missed him earlier — was already charging at his again.
CRACK!
Without sparing a glance, Mikel gritted his teeth and yanked the chain hard. His knee pressed hard on the ground. The Blood Chain screeched against his shoulder, skin tearing — but he didn't stop. He pulled and pulled, the tension groaning through his arms.
SNAP!
THUD!
The bone finally gave way, fracturing with a sickening crunch. At the same time, the second spike froze just an inch behind his back — then it fell limp, crashing into the ground like a felled tree.
Mikel panted, the chain slack on his shoulder, its weight dragging him down. He glanced back at the shattered bones: one broken, the other twitching — but still. Dark mist ascended from the broken bone, making him stare at it momentarily.
There was no triumph in his chest. No breath of relief. Just him, getting to his feet, fingers tightening around the Grimoire, eyes turning toward the culprit.
The creature hadn't moved — still clutching his home like some grotesque, starved child.
Then came Doom's casual comment, calm and cruel.
[There are 206 bones in the human body.]
[You broke two.]
[204 to go, Master.]
Mikel didn't even bother responding to Doom. Not this time. Not even with the masterpiece of music swelling in his head was too grand for the wreckage in his heart.
He just focused on breathing, teeth clenched, fury building in his chest like a boiling kettle.
"That house…" he hissed, finally seeing the full extent of the damage.
His home — the one filled with quiet, mundane memories of his late grandmother — now reduced to rubble beneath a monster's fingers. Watching it crumble was like watching every small piece of his old life get stomped into dust.
Mikel tossed the book into the air. With a flick of his wrist, the chain lashed out, wrapping around the Grimoire in a single fluid motion.
"You all wanna roll together…" he muttered, knees bending as another sharp glint flickered in his eye. "Then let's roll together — or just die together all at once."
His feet cracked the ground as he launched into the air, the chain and book soaring with him.
"Night Vision."
His left eye flared a hellish red. Shadows cut across his face, leaving that single glowing eye burning like a curse.
The chain began to move — a slow, serpentine clink at first… then a rapid whip crack that screamed through the air.
"Purification Protocol… launch."
[Playing: O Fortuna.]