"The Paradox of Record"
CHAPTER 1 — The Church of Blood
The scent of blood… was suffocating. It wasn't just a smell—it was alive. Thick. Heavy. Clinging to every breath, forcing its way into the lungs, seemingly penetrating my very consciousness.
Dark crimson liquid spread across the stone floor, reflecting the flickering, trembling candlelight—like a warped mirror, dancing with the shadows of the grim scene.
Corpses.
Dozens.
Seated in the pews. Silent. Motionless. As if still listening to a sermon that would never end. No, worse. They looked like dolls being played with by a sick hand.
In the midst of it all, before the altar—
A priest stood.
Head tilted.
And smiling.
Not a normal smile—but a forced, exaggerated, almost skin-tearing grin. His eyes were like two burning red embers in the gloom.
Before him…
A corpse.
A young man in a military uniform. A hole in his chest. Lifeless eyes. Cold. Dead.
Me.
Then—
Something descended.
Not light.
Nor darkness.
But something… in between. A strange violet light emerged above the corpse I knew was me. It pulsed, like a heartbeat, like it possessed a life of its own that did not belong in this world.
"…Where… am… I…?"
The voice echoed, but not from lips. Not from a body. Only consciousness—a soul floating, lost, shattered.
Memories flickered and vanished, like fragments of broken glass—
Explosion.
Fire.
Heat.
Screams.
Death.
And then—
Nothing.
"…I died."
Understanding dawned. A calm acceptance, too calm for someone who had just died. Accustomed. This was the end of a soldier.
Before my consciousness could fully process everything—
The violet light suddenly flared. As if searching. As if choosing.
The corpse.
It rushed down—and buried itself into the dead body that was once mine.
Silence.
Then—
A movement.
Unnatural.
Fingers twitched. As if broken strings were being pulled.
Within the darkness—
Something awakened.
"…Cold…"
"…Heavy…"
"…This isn't… mine…"
Eyes suddenly opened.
Air violently rushed into the lungs. The body shot upright—
"GHH—!!"
A sharp gasp shattered the silence of the church.
Pain.
Not simple pain—but as if the body itself was rejecting me. As if something was wrong. As if it knew—
I wasn't the true owner.
"…Am I alive?"
My voice was hoarse. Different. Not mine.
Slowly, I looked at my hands. Covered in blood. Smaller. Thinner. Weaker.
"…This isn't my body."
Panic wasn't the first to arrive. But analysis. This was wrong. Terribly wrong. A strange, calm shock.
"The mass is not yet over."
I froze.
The voice was too close.
Slowly—
Very slowly—
I turned.
The priest…
Was already behind me.
And smiling.
It was clearer now. More wrong. More… inhuman.
"…You woke up."
The priest's voice was soft. Almost gentle. Almost nurturing.
But his eyes—
Glowing red.
My instinct screamed. Run. Fight. Live.
But the body—
Did not obey. Heavy. Stiff. As if not mine.
"Interesting…"
The priest approached. Observing me as if I were an experiment.
"You died."
His voice was calm.
"…And yet… you rose again."
A brief silence.
"Tell me…"
The smile widened further.
"…what are you?"
THUMP.
THUMP.
THUMP.
My heart pounded. Not fear—
But a warning.
"I—"
The priest vanished.
Didn't run.
Didn't move. Just—
vanished.
Pain followed.
A hand suddenly seized my neck. Lifting me as if weightless.
"Wrong answer."
Air vanished. Vision blurred. The world darkened.
"…So weak…"
The priest whispered into my ear.
"…yet there's something within you…"
"…that is not human."
My consciousness cracked. Like glass.
Then—
A sound.
Sharp.
Swift.
A cut.
The pressure vanished.
I fell to the floor. Coughed. Gulped for air as if my lungs were burning.
When I looked up—
Someone stood between us.
Dressed in black.
Face covered.
Silent.
Holding a sword—
And blood dripped from it.
The priest stepped back.
For the first time—
There was distance.
His arm—
Was gone.
"…You."
The priest's voice dropped. No longer gentle.
But dangerous.
The cloaked figure did not reply.
He simply raised his sword.
And spoke.
To be continued...