The chamber still reeked of blood and decay.
Hari stood over the carcass of the beast he had slain — breath ragged, eyes glowing with unnatural light. His bones ached from the transformation. His skin burned like fire ran beneath it. His heartbeat… wasn't alone.
Something had awakened.
He knelt slowly, one hand pressed to the cracked floor as the corpse of the Forgotten One bled out around him. Its essence — thick, black, and ancient — crept into his veins like smoke, like hunger given form.
And then he felt it.
The second heartbeat.
Not his own.
Not the monster's.
Something new. Within him.
His body convulsed.
A cold pulse tore through his spine. He gritted his teeth as a searing wave of agony split his mind in two. His fingers clawed the stone. His vision blurred.
And just when he thought it would consume him—
—it stopped.
Hari opened his eyes.
Everything looked sharper now. His vision pierced the darkness like a predator watching the world from behind its fangs. He could hear things he shouldn't — the distant echo of blood dripping, the slow creak of dungeons shifting miles away. He could smell fear soaked into the stones.
And worse…
He could taste it.
The air around him was no longer just cold — it was alive with whispers.
---
They started as murmurs. Like voices caught in a dream.
But they grew louder, circling him from the shadows of the chamber. No mouths. No shapes. Just presence. Ancient. Aware.
"Another one awakens..."
"He killed the cursed thing?"
"It's too early... he shouldn't be here yet..."
Hari rose to his feet, body trembling, not from fear — but from change. His breath steamed like frost in the air. He looked down at his arm — the bone plating now darkened with red veins, his fingertips sharpened like claws.
His teeth throbbed. He touched his mouth, and found his canines had lengthened.
A chill ran through him, but he didn't shiver.
He smiled.
Something inside him was laughing.
Not with joy.
With hunger.
---
A distant rumble echoed from the far side of the chamber. A wall cracked open, revealing a spiral stairway carved into the earth — ancient, breathing cold mist from its mouth.
A faint red glow pulsed from below.
The dungeon was calling.
Not to test him.
To welcome him.
---
He stepped forward, every movement lighter than before, smoother — like his body had forgotten it was ever human.
The voices whispered louder now.
"A bloodborn..."
"He's made the pact..."
"Does he even know what he is becoming?"
He didn't care.
He only felt one thing.
Power.
Power, crawling through his veins. A hunger that could not be undone. And beneath it all, the sound of blood. Distant. Strong. Flowing in rivers through a dungeon that had slept for centuries.
He clenched his fists. Shadows bent with his breath. He wasn't just adapting anymore — he was evolving into something terrifying.
Into something the world wasn't ready for.
He looked into the spiraling abyss below.
And smiled again.
> "Let's see how deep this nightmare goes."
And without another word…
He descended.
---
To be continued in Chapter 7: Feast of Shadows
---