The Darkness wasn't empty.
It breathed.
Something pulsed within it—wet, suffocating, alive.
A crack split through the void.
Then another.
A hand burst through.
Black, tar-like fibers stretched and snapped as a figure forced itself out of a hardened, ivory shell—something like a hollow tusk fused with organic mass. The cocoon split open completely, spilling viscous fluid across the rusted floor of an abandoned facility.
The man collapsed forward, coughing violently.
Air burned his lungs.
His body trembled as if it didn't belong to him.
"…Gh—"
His voice came out broken. Unfamiliar.
Dim lights flickered overhead. The facility was decayed—concrete walls eaten by time, graffiti layered over old warning signs, the distant echo of dripping water filling the silence.
Outside… faint city noise.
Alive. But far away.
He looked down at himself.
Skin pale. Veins faintly darkened, like something beneath them was… moving.
"What… am I…"
Pain struck his head.
Not physical—something deeper.
Flashes—
A girl.
Soft laughter.
Wind through her hair.
A name—
"...Cassie…"
He froze.
That was the only thing that felt real.
Everything else… gone.
His past, his life—erased.
"…Who… am I?"
His eyes scanned the ground until something caught his attention.
A pendant.
Old. Slightly rusted.
He picked it up with shaking hands and opened it.
Inside—
A photo.
Himself.
And her.
Cassie.
For a moment, the world went quiet.
"…I know you…"
A faint warmth flickered in his chest—quickly swallowed by the cold emptiness inside him.
Then—
The air warped.
Space twisted unnaturally around him, like reality itself was folding inward.
"What the—"
In an instant—
He vanished.
Cold air hit him.
He stumbled forward, landing on damp soil.
"…What…?"
The facility was gone.
Now—
Gravestones.
Rows of them.
An old cemetery beneath a gray sky.
Wind howled softly through dead trees.
And in front of him—
A name carved into stone.
JEREMY SONG, in loving memory.
His breath hitched.
"No…"
His hands trembled as he dropped to his knees, digging into the dirt like something was pulling him toward it.
Faster.
Desperate.
Until—
Thunk.
Wood.
He uncovered the coffin.
"…Don't tell me…"
With unnatural strength, he ripped it open.
Inside—
A body.
Burned.
Decayed.
Familiar.
His own face stared back at him.
And then—
It hit.
Memories flooded in violently.
Fire.
Screaming.
Pain.
A life filled with anger… bad choices… gangs… regret.
A dream that never made it—
Art.
And then—
Death.
"…I died…"
His grip tightened.
"…Someone… Something did this to me."
Rage flickered.
But underneath it—
Something darker.
Something given to him.
A memory not his own.
A voice.
A deal.
A presence in smoke…
Watching.
Waiting.
"…You wanted this…"
Jeremy's breathing grew heavier.
"…Didn't you?"
"Careful now, kid."
A voice cut through the air.
Calm. Old.
Jerry turned instantly.
An old man stood a few feet away, leaning on a shovel. Wide-brim hat shadowing his face. Coat worn with age.
Watching him like this wasn't surprising.
Like he'd seen it before.
"…Who are you?" Jeremy snapped. "What is this place? What's happening to me?"
The old man took a slow drag from his pipe before answering.
"…You really don't remember nothin', do ya?"
Jeremy said nothing.
The man exhaled smoke.
"You've been dead near a decade, for 10 years son."
Silence.
"…And now you're back."
Jeremy jaw tightened.
"…That doesn't answer my question."
The old man chuckled softly.
"Alright then… I'll give it to you straight."
He stepped closer.
"You ain't human no more."
A pause.
"You're what comes after."
Jeremy's eyes narrowed.
"…Speak clearly."
The man tipped his hat slightly.
"They call it different things. Aberration. Incarnation. Curse."
A small grin formed.
"But the name that stuck?"
He pointed at Jeremy.
"Hell-Gaste."
The word lingered.
Heavy.
Unnatural.
Jeremy felt something react inside him when he heard it.
"…No," he muttered. "That's not—"
"You made a deal," the man cut in. "Don't play dumb."
Silence.
Smoke curled between them.
"That thing you met?" the man continued. "Takes many forms. Faces you trust. Faces you fear."
A beat.
"Sometimes… it even wears your bloodline."
Jeremy froze.
"…What?"
The old man's eyes sharpened.
"Name ring a bell?"
He said it slowly.
"Chiyou."
Something snapped inside Jeremy's mind.
A violent reaction.
Pain.
Recognition.
"…What did I do…" he whispered.
The man shrugged.
"Same thing anyone like you does."
A pause.
"You wanted another shot."
Jeremy's fists clenched.
"…At what?"
The old man studied him.
"…That's somethin' you gotta figure out yourself."
Jeremy exhaled sharply, trying to steady himself.
"…Then start with you."
A glare.
"Who are you?"
The old man smirked.
"Name's Kewok."
He turned, gesturing behind him.
"C'mon. No point standin' around your own grave all day."
Jeremy hesitated.
But something in his gut told him—
This man knew more.
So he followed.
The shed smelled of oil and rust.
Weapons lined the walls—old revolvers, rifles, blades.
History, preserved.
Jeremy's eyes scanned everything… until—
A tomahawk.
Different from the rest.
Important.
Kewok noticed.
"…That one's blood," he said simply. "Family."
Jeremy nodded slightly.
"…You're a Native."
"Sharp enough," Kewok replied.
He tossed something toward Jerry.
A jacket.
"Put it on. You're gonna need it."
Jeremy caught it, still processing everything.
"…You said I'm like you."
Kewok leaned against the wall.
"Was."
A pause.
"Long time ago."
Jeremy looked at him.
"…So this 'Hell-Gaste' thing—what is it?"
Kewok's expression darkened slightly.
"Darkness don't just exist, kid."
He tapped his chest.
"It chooses."
A Warrior.
"And when it does?"
He looked Jeremy dead in the eye.
"It spreads."
Silence filled the room.
"…Demons," Kewok added. "They'll come for you eventually."
Jeremy scoffed lightly.
"…Let them."
Kewok chuckled.
"Yeah. I said the same thing."
A pause.
"Didn't end well."
Jeremy went quiet.
Then—
"…Why did I come back?"
Kewok didn't answer immediately.
Instead—
"…You tell me."
Jeremy stared at the ground.
"…I remember dying."
His voice tightened.
"…And I remember… something unfinished."
A pause.
"…And her."
Kewok nodded.
"Then that's your answer."
He pushed himself off the wall.
"There's a city not far from here. Slums first. Then the real mess."
He walked toward the door.
"If you're lookin' for answers?"
A glance back.
"That's where you start."
Jeremy put the jacket on slowly.
"…And my name?"
Kewok stopped.
Without turning—
"Jeremy Song's dead."
A old wound of the past.
"You heard it yourself."
Silence.
"…You're Gaste now."
The world twisted again.
And just like that—
He was back.
The slums.
But now—
Screams.
Close.
Gaste didn't hesitate.
He moved instantly, drawn toward the sound of the Slum's alleys.
Turning the corner—
A girl.
Pinned down.
Men surrounding her.
Begging.
Crying.
Without a word—
Gaste stepped forward.
"Hey—who the hell—"
They didn't finish.
It happened too fast.
One second they were alive—
The next—
They weren't.
Silence.
The girl trembled.
"…Thank you… I thought I was—"
She looked up.
And smiled.
Too wide.
Too sharp.
Her eyes changed.
"…saved?"
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
Gaste didn't react.
"…You're not human."
The girl stood slowly.
Her form shifting.
"…Neither are you."
A grin.
"Let's see what you really are."
Gaste's eyes darkened.
For the first time—
He didn't feel confusion.
He felt—
Purpose.
Now after experiencing this unnatural fight for the first time, he felt a surge of power as he began to transform into a Monster wearing dark violet metallic armor that would shield him from the girl...