The night was heavy, draped in a blanket of silence broken only by the hum of distant street lamps. The city seemed asleep, yet Ben wasn't. Cloaked in black, hood drawn over his head, he walked alone through the narrow streets. His boots struck the ground in steady, deliberate thuds—too slow to be casual, too heavy to be at peace.
When he reached a deserted alley, he stopped. The shadows seemed thicker here, pressing against the walls as if alive. Slowly, he lowered his hood.
Black veins coiled like roots across his neck, crawling up beneath his skin, pulsing faintly. His jaw tightened. He knew what it meant.
The curse.
The curse placed on him the day Stone died.
The curse that was born the instant Ben's eyes locked onto Stone's in those final seconds, when his blade pierced flesh, and Stone's burning gaze carved into his very soul. That was the moment. That was when it latched onto him. And though he had hidden it for years, it had only grown stronger, like a disease gnawing at his humanity piece by piece.
Now… he was already half gone. Half demon.
And soon… entirely.
His forehead was slick with sweat. His breath came sharp and ragged, his chest tightening as though invisible claws were ripping it apart. He had no choice. Tonight he was here for one thing only—an antidote, of sorts. A chance. Even if that chance came from the hands of a demon.
Because if the higher-ups ever discovered what he was turning into… they wouldn't help him. They'd slaughter him where he stood.
His hand clenched around the dagger at his hip. Its blade shimmered with an unnatural glow as he willed his aura into it—ghostly green light crawling across the steel like restless flames. His knuckles whitened.
That's when the figure came.
It emerged from the shadows like smoke weaving itself into flesh. Human in shape, but wrong in presence. A hood cloaked its body, its face hidden behind a black Mongolian mask carved with sharp lines, its eyes—two pools of crimson—burning with an intensity that froze Ben where he stood.
It stopped only a few meters away. Stared at the dagger in his hand. Then… slowly… looked back up at him.
Ben's throat went dry. His pulse hammered. He didn't know why—he had fought demons before, faced things that would make ordinary men collapse in terror. But this was different. This wasn't just fear. This was dread. The mask was nothing—what lurked behind it was the real terror.
"So… you're the one?" His voice cracked slightly. He swallowed hard, suppressing the groans rising with the pain crawling through his veins. "What do you want… in return?"
The figure didn't speak. Didn't move. Instead, it raised one pale hand. Between its fingers appeared a small, black bottle. Its shape was alien, carved with curves that seemed too deliberate, too sinister. Inside sloshed a thick red fluid.
Blood.
Ben's face twisted in disgust. "You expect me to drink your disgusting blood?" His words dripped venom, the old arrogance still flashing even as his body screamed in pain.
The demon tilted its head, slowly… studying him, as if the words themselves were less important than the pounding heartbeat in his chest.
Then—suddenly—pain.
A searing agony burst through Ben's back, ripping the air from his lungs. His knees buckled, his body crumbling to the ground. His vision blurred as he realized another presence loomed behind him.
"When…? How… did I not sense it…?"
But before the thought could finish, his body convulsed. His insides felt like they were being torn apart and rebuilt, molten fire crawling through his veins, flesh remade into something not human. He gasped, choked, tried to scream—yet no sound escaped. Only the silent distortion of his face, only the horror in his eyes.
The masked figure knelt before him, close enough for him to feel the weight of its presence. It said nothing. Just watched. Studied. Relished his suffering.
His glare tried to cut through the pain, but it was useless. He couldn't move. Couldn't fight. Couldn't even twitch a finger.
Then, slowly, as though mocking his struggle, the figure reached up… and removed its mask.
Ben's eyes widened.
No face.
Only shadows.
Shadows that writhed and swirled, barely holding the shape of a head. Darkness stitched together with emptiness, and within it—a grin, born not of lips, but of movement. A grin that pulsed with joy at the sound of his frantic heartbeat.
Ben's thoughts spiraled. I'm going to die. What was I even thinking? Trusting a demon… They're all the same. And now… now I'm going to die for my idiotic mistake…
The mask slid back into place. Crimson eyes glowed brighter, boring into him. Then the demon rose. Towering. Its foot lifted, poised above his head.
Ben's teeth clenched. He braced. He couldn't dodge. Couldn't run. Couldn't do anything but wait for the crushing end.
But it never came.
The demon leapt back with uncanny speed, its foot snapping away as three kunai, glowing with a purple aura, slammed into the spot where it had stood—exploding with a sharp crack.
Almost instantly, another figure landed at Ben's side.
Lara.
Her presence cut through the suffocating dread. Dressed in dark, simple casuals—tight black jeans, a cropped jacket, fingerless gloves. Stylish, girly, and battle-ready all at once. Her sharp brown eyes glared at the demon with a steadiness Ben knew all too well.
Her arm stretched protectively in front of him, a barrier that screamed you'll have to go through me first. In her other hand, another kunai gleamed, its aura burning.
She didn't blink. Didn't relax. Not for a second. Because she knew—everyone knew—humanoid demons weren't to be taken lightly.
The demon, however, wasn't fazed. One hand in its pocket, its stance loose, casual, almost lazy. But Lara recognized it. That stance. That calm. She couldn't place it, but she knew she'd seen something like it before.
She launched her kunai. It sliced through the air.
The demon tilted, dodging effortlessly—yet the moment it passed, the kunai erupted, smoke flooding the alleyway. White, thick, blinding.
But the gust came. A violent wind that tore the smoke apart in seconds. And when it cleared…
They were gone.
Ben. Lara. Vanished.
The demon's head lingered on the empty spot...then it turned asthough something bigger had caught its attention,Shadows writhed around its frame, red aura twisting like wildfire. For a moment it stood silent. Then, slowly, its head turned… as if something else had caught its attention.
The aura swallowed it whole. And in a blink… it vanished.