The city was no longer a sanctuary of shadows; it was a hunting ground, a necropolis of endless prey. Arthur moved with a newfound grace, a predator stalking a broken world. His senses, once attuned to the subtlest of sounds and movements, were now heightened, his perception of the spiritual world a constant, unnerving hum. He could see the lingering energy of the dead, a ghostly haze that clung to the ruins, and the faint, corrupted souls of the Hallowed, shimmering beacons in the urban decay.
He had spent the night in a restless daze, the energy from his first consumption keeping him from sleep. The memory of the man in the park, the laughing child, was a cold, distant fact in his mind, devoid of any warmth. He felt no remorse, no guilt. Only a hollow, unsettling calm. It was a terrifying realization: the hunger had not just sated his physical need, it had quieted the gnawing ache of his soul. It had silenced the ghosts of his past.
He felt the shift in his own body. His movements were fluid, his reflexes lightning-fast. He could leap across rooftops with a single bound, his feet finding purchase on crumbling ledges that would have sent him plummeting before. He was a force of nature, a living embodiment of the city's decay.
The sickly purple essence, the one that had fled him, was his new obsession. It was a tantalizing mystery, a challenge that his new, predatory mind craved. The creature was intelligent, aware. It wasn't just another Hallowed; it was a creature of a higher order, a product of the Sundering's dark alchemy. He needed to understand it. He needed to consume it.
His pursuit led him through the city's labyrinthine alleys, past skeletal remains of cars and forgotten street signs. The city, once a bustling metropolis, was now a grotesque tapestry of rot and despair. But to Arthur's new eyes, it was a map of power, a grim, alluring puzzle. He could see the lingering spiritual residue of past lives, a ghostly afterglow that clung to the walls of buildings and the cracked pavement. He could tell where a life had ended in terror, where a soul had been consumed, and where the Hallowed had passed. The city was speaking to him, and he, for the first time, was listening.
He found it in the skeletal remains of a skyscraper, a monument to a past age of hubris. The purple-eyed Hallowed was a solitary figure, its movements slow and deliberate, its milky eyes fixed on a point in the distance that Arthur could not see. It was an eerie, unsettling sight, a creature of mindless hunger with the unsettling patience of a hunter.
Arthur kept his distance, his new-found senses allowing him to stay hidden in the shadows. He watched as the creature, a sickly, purple aura shimmering around it, began to absorb the spiritual residue of the building. The ghostly afterglow of a thousand lost lives, once a faint, ethereal haze, was now a river of light, flowing into the Hallowed, its form growing more solid, its movements more purposeful.
This was not a mindless hunger. This was a form of spiritual consumption, a different kind of power. This creature was not just a Hallowed; it was a collector. It was a revenant of a different kind. A chill, a feeling he thought he had lost, ran down his spine. The creature was not just a prey; it was a rival. A terrifying, more advanced version of what he was becoming.
The Hallowed, as if sensing his presence, turned its head, its milky eyes, now a vibrant, pulsing purple, fixed on his position. It smiled. A slow, unsettling grin that stretched its rotted lips, revealing teeth that were black and jagged. It was a terrifying, inhuman gesture that sent a jolt of pure dread through Arthur's core. It knew he was there. It was toying with him.
"You are new," a voice, a dry, rustling whisper that was somehow inside his head, echoed in his mind. "You have the hunger. The potential. But you are weak. You have only tasted a drop of the ocean."
Arthur didn't respond. He gripped the hilt of his short sword, his heart hammering in his chest. He had never heard a Hallowed speak before. He had never even considered it possible. The Hallowed, a force of nature, were a mindless, shambling horde. This creature was an anomaly. An abomination. A terrifying perversion of life and death.
"You cling to your humanity," the voice whispered, a hint of amusement in its tone. "A foolish thing. It is a weakness. It is a chain that binds you to the past. But you will learn. The hunger will teach you. It will consume your memories, your emotions, your very soul, until you are nothing but a vessel for the power."
The creature began to move, its steps light and silent, its purple eyes fixed on Arthur. It was a ghost of a different kind, a spiritual predator that moved with a chilling, predatory grace. Arthur was not just a target; he was a student. The Hallowed was teaching him a lesson. A lesson in power. A lesson in consumption. A lesson in becoming a monster.
He knew he had to act. He had to fight. He couldn't let this creature escape. It was a threat. It was an abomination. And it was a source of power. A large, rich, and deeply corrupted source of power. He had tasted a droplet of the ocean, and now he was faced with the ocean itself. He was weak. He was a fledgling. He was a new hunter in a world of ancient, spiritual predators. But he would not run. Not this time. He would not give in to fear. He would give in to the hunger.
With a roar that was more animal than human, Arthur launched himself from the shadows, his short sword a blur of steel. He was faster, stronger. He was a force of nature, a living embodiment of the city's decay. But he was not a match for this new kind of monster. The Hallowed's purple essence swirled and condensed, forming a brittle shield around its form. Arthur's sword, a weapon that had killed hundreds of Hallowed, was useless against this new defense.
The creature's smile widened. It was a silent, chilling mockery. It raised a hand, its rotted fingers tipped with black claws. A wave of spiritual energy, a horrifying blast of purple light, slammed into Arthur, throwing him against a wall of a collapsed building. The impact was brutal, the pain a fiery agony that coursed through his body. He slumped to the ground, his vision blurring, his mind screaming in protest. He was no match. He was a child playing with fire.
"You will learn," the voice whispered, a chilling promise. "You will feed. You will consume. And one day, you will be strong enough to face me. Until then… you are merely prey."
The creature turned, its form dissolving into a cloud of purple mist that drifted into the shadows. Arthur was left alone, his body aching, his mind reeling. He had come face to face with a new kind of terror, a new kind of enemy. A terrifying, intelligent, and powerful revenant that was a chilling vision of his own future. He was not a hunter in this world; he was a new hunter. And he was being hunted. He was being taught a lesson. A lesson in power. A lesson in consumption. A lesson in what he would become if he continued to feed the hunger.