The hallway groaned.
Not like a building under strain.
Not like wood bending.
But like reality itself was protesting, stretching, reshaping around me.
I didn't breathe. My lungs refused to. My heart thudded too fast to count.
And yet—the humming inside me… pulsed steadily.
Calm. Patient. Certain.
The three silhouettes had shifted again.
Now I could see their shapes clearly—not human.
Their limbs were too long, bent in impossible ways.
Their heads tilted at angles that made my stomach lurch.
The space around them twisted like water caught in a vortex.
And yet… I felt recognition. Familiarity. Something deep inside me resonated with them.
The largest moved first.
Not fast. Not violent. But deliberate.
Its chest expanded and contracted—not breathing, but pulsing. The air around it warped in waves.
The floor cracked beneath it. The walls leaned in. Even the stranger's eyes widened.
"They're… alive," he whispered.
Not human alive.
Ancient alive.
I realized something terrifying: the space around them obeyed their will.
Not consciously. Not through force. But by existence.
They didn't step on the floor—they pressed on reality itself.
My body responded.
Again, without thinking. My limbs moved in tandem with the thing inside me.
I didn't run.
I didn't dodge.
I became aware of every molecule of air between us.
Every grain of dust.
Every pulse of pressure.
I struck instinctively. My fist extended, and the air itself bent outward.
One silhouette staggered—not enough to stop it—but enough to make it hesitate.
The stranger hissed between clenched teeth.
"You're… bending it… you don't even realize."
I swallowed. The humming in my chest became louder.
Not just sound. Not just rhythm.
Something moving. Something recognizing.
The three hunters advanced in unison, slow, deliberate, inhuman.
And then—without warning—their forms shifted.
Limbs stretched impossibly. Shadows flared. Air tore.
The largest's head split into three smaller, jagged shapes, hovering around its chest.
The middle one's body expanded and contracted like a living tower of sinew.
The smallest's limbs elongated, bending the floor beneath it like it was made of rubber.
I froze.
No human mind could have comprehended it.
No human heart could have survived the sight.
And yet—inside me, something smiled.
The pulse in my chest aligned with theirs.
The thing inside me whispered:
"…I remember you…"
The stranger shouted.
"Arin! Focus! Don't let it take control—control it!"
But I wasn't trying.
I wasn't thinking.
I didn't have to.
I had already become the bridge between what I was and what they were.
The first silhouette moved to strike. Not fast. But the world slowed, melted, and bent around it.
I reacted. Air compressed under my fist. Dust swirled. Reality flickered.
It staggered back.
The other two advanced. I moved again.
Every motion of mine reshaped the hallway, fractured the floor, bent the walls.
Every strike, every step, every breath… resonated with something ancient in me.
The stranger staggered, gripping the nearest wall.
"I've never… I've never seen anyone—anything—react like this," he breathed.
His eyes darted between me and the silhouettes. Fear. Awe. Respect.
The largest silhouette paused. Its pulse slowed. Its form warped, almost carefully.
And then it spoke—not out loud, but in my head:
"Child… you awaken fully. You are ours… and yet… different."
The voice inside me roared back:
"…I know you. I am ready."
The world trembled.
Not the floor. Not the walls.
The world itself.
Time and space stuttered.
Reality bent.
And for the first time, I realized:
I wasn't fighting for survival anymore.
I was fighting to define what survival even meant.
The hunters had shown their true form.
And I had finally realized mine.