The alley stank of blood. An old man stepped into the dim passage, his eyes narrowed at the scene ahead: broken bodies sprawled like discarded dolls, faces twisted in agony, limbs bent at unnatural angles.
He exhaled slowly.
"I'm too late," he muttered.
He stepped over a severed arm, the blood still glistening. A sickening squelch echoed under his boots.
"Damn it... I should've gotten here sooner."
His gaze fixed on the centerpiece of the massacre—the gang leader. The man's decapitated body was slumped against a wall, a massive hole punched clean through his chest. His head lay a few feet away, eyes burst, jaw slack, face frozen in terror.
The old man clenched his jaw. "Any survivors…?"
A faint rustling behind a dumpster snapped his focus. Instantly alert, he turned, hand twitching near his belt.
Rustle…
From the shadows, a figure emerged—young, shaking, blood-soaked. Tamrik. His face was pale, eyes wide with trauma, lips trembling as if they'd forgotten how to speak.
The old man approached slowly. "You. What happened here? Who did this?"
Tamrik's voice cracked as he stammered, "It... it wasn't human. We thought we killed it. But then... it stood back up. It tore them apart. It... smiled while killing..."
Tamrik nodded frantically. "It wasn't human! It... it—"
GRAAAAAAAAHH!!!
Tamrik screamed, pointing into the darkness. "Help! Help me, please!"
"What is it?" the old man demanded, spinning around. He surprised. "Oh my god"
He turned back, but Tamrik had collapsed, sobbing against the wall.
—
Elsewhere.
Water flowed quietly from the bathroom tap as Lioran calmly washed his hands. The world around him was silent, still. Too still.
Suddenly he listened to something from behind. He turned back but nothing was there.
Then he turned back and feel water turned thick. Dark.
He looked down.
Blood.
Dark crimson oozed from the faucet, coating his hands. Every tap around him spewed it, turning the white sink scarlet. A metallic scent filled the air.
Lioran staggered back. "What the hell...?"
He looked up.
The mirror showed his reflection—except half his face was soaked in blood. Not just stained—drenched. His own eyes widened in the reflection, moving out of sync with him.
The floor beneath him began to pulse. It darkened. Blood rose like a tide, consuming the tiles.
Panicked, Lioran lunged for the door. It wouldn't budge.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The blood engulfed him.
—
Gasp! Gasp!
He jolted awake with a gasp, drenched in sweat. His heart thundered in his chest, breath shallow, fists clenched around the bedsheets.
"A dream…?" he whispered. "No. It felt too real."
He sat up, wiping his face. A message notification blinked on his phone.
Liara:
Hey brother! I'm staying at my friend's place tonight for the party. Your dinner's on the table 😊
He managed a small smile. But then—an ache surged in his skull.
"Urgh… what is this…?" He gripped his head. Something was wrong. Something he couldn't place. It felt like he'd forgotten something important.
He dragged himself to the dining table, turned on the TV, and began eating his dinner absently.
Then the news anchor's voice cut through the room.
Click!
"Breaking News: Earlier today, the city's most dangerous gang was found slaughtered in an alley near Sector 9. Bodies torn apart. Some… partially devoured. Police say the brutality resembles an animal attack. Only one survivor was found unconscious: Tamrik Naidu, son of local politician Subhash Naidu. Investigation ongoing. The killer… may not be human."
Lioran froze. The spoon clattered to the floor. He stood abruptly—chair toppling behind him.
CLANG!!
His eyes widened. "No... It can't be…"
His memories rushed back like a broken dam. The fight. The fear. The rage.
"I didn't kill them... I just fought to survive…"
He tore open his shirt, expecting to see the gunshot wound—where the gang leader had shot him at point blank.
But his skin was smooth. Not a single scar.
"Impossible…" he whispered.
A sharp pain exploded in his head again, worse than before. He staggered, gripping the table.
THROB!
THROB!
THROB!
"No... what's happening to me?!"
Flashes. Screams. Blood. Fangs. Claws.
His hands—ripping, tearing.
The leader's head. Tamrik's terrified face.
"Did I...?" he whispered.
The news anchor spoke again:
"Tamrik Naidu remains in a coma. His condition is stable, but doctors say he shows signs of intense psychological trauma."
Lioran's breath quickened.
"He's alive. But... how much does he remember?"
More voices swirled in his mind.
"You killed him."
"You killed them."
"You enjoyed it."
"NO!!" Lioran screamed, slamming his fist on the table, shattering a plate. He stumbled toward the terrace, the pressure in his head unbearable.
CRACK!!!
As he collapsed on the rooftop, the world around him faded into silence.
—
Meanwhile, the old man stood just a block away, guided by shimmering particles in the air—like golden dust following a breeze only he could feel.
"He will be near," he murmured, holding out his hand. The glowing motes gathered on his palm, dancing in delicate spirals.
"So pure... I've never seen particles this refined."
The particles suddenly changed direction, drifting upward—leading toward a rooftop not far away.
"They're guiding me to him," he said. "If this is true... then this world still has hope."
—
Lioran lay unconscious,a vast darkness surrounded his spirit, but in it floated golden specks—twinkling like stars.
Suddenly, they flared—igniting into a golden fire. The flames spiraled around him, forming an aura of raw energy. Slowly, his body lifted off the ground.
The old man stood on a nearby rooftop, eyes wide.
"Unbelievable…"
Lioran hovered several meters above the terrace, golden aura blazing. From his chest, a beam of golden light shot upward, piercing the sky and forming a radiant spectrum that shimmered like a divine symbol.
FWWOOOOOOOOM!!!
Ordinary people didn't notice.
But across the city—in hidden temples, secret chambers, and forbidden forests—those attuned to this energy felt it.
Eyes opened.
Hearts skipped beats.
A message was sent without words:
He has awakened.
Back on the rooftop, the old man watched, overwhelmed.
"Oh, Lord..." he whispered, tears slipping from his weathered eyes. "You've returned him to us."
He fell to his knees, hands clasped in gratitude.
"Finally... a new dawn rises."
"And this world... has its hope again!"
To be continued...