The hallway was silent save for the echo of wet footsteps—thud... thud... thud...—as the stitched toad-like abomination emerged from the dim corridors of the lab. Kaleem stood frozen in place. A grotesque parody of a frog, the creature was sewn together with mismatched limbs, its chest a patchwork of dead things. Its bloated body moved with a jerking gait, dragging with it a nauseating stench of blood and rot.
Kaleem's breathing slowed. Time seemed to slow with it.
His vision narrowed until everything else was a blur, and in that moment… his mind slipped into a strange trance.
In this mental space—a dark void illuminated by the floating sparks of half-formed thoughts and impressions—knowledge burst to life like fireflies. The Basics of Mysticism, the Mysteries he had gazed upon, the Silver Cresh warnings, the mention of mysteries and mana, all surged together, orbiting his thoughts in chaotic flashes of light.
I can't run. I'm not strong… but if I stand still, I'll die.
And in that abyss, a single instinct took root: kill.
That thought anchored him.
His consciousness, flickering like a dying candle, suddenly stabilized. In the trance, his lips moved on their own. He didn't understand where the words came from, only that they _had_ to be said. A hoarse, inhuman voice poured from his throat, soft but charged with an otherworldly resonance as his entire body begins to twitch :
"Flesh forgets what eyes remember...
Stars blink where gods once bled...
I am not me, not here, not now...
Let shadow drink the name I was...
Let Aries break the bone of mercy...
As I walk through rot ..."
The toad-creature halted—just for a moment—its eyes flicking in confusion.
And that was enough.
Kaleem's skin split open in hairline fractures. Black liquid oozed from beneath, coating his arms as his fingers elongated into black claws. His pupils thinned into a more serpentine look, his face twisted, and a cruel smile stretched unnaturally across his face as that kind of look can't appear on a young human. When he parted his lips, rows of jagged, pale fangs—no longer remotely human—gleamed wetly.
He no longer looked like a boy.
The toad reacted, launching its grotesque tongue at him like a spear. But Kaleem, or what he had become, vanished like a blur—an ephemeral shadow sprinting across the walls.
The tongue missed.
Before the creature could recoil, Kaleem reappeared, claws raised to strike.
Yet even in its twisted form, the monster was cunning. With a whip-like flex, its tongue curled backward in mid-air, aiming for Kaleem's exposed back. But even in his half-lucid, dazed state, Kaleem sensed the killing intent and dodged again—barely.
Annoyed, the creature puffed up its throat and let out a deep, guttural croak as it takes in a massive puff of air swelling its body.
A stream of sizzling yellow spit launched at him, spraying across the hallway like acidic bile. Kaleem leapt to the wall again, clinging to its surface like an insect. Still, some of the spit grazed his arm, his skin hissed and smoked, a chunk of his flesh melting away..
A screech—high, hollow, unnatural—ripped through the air. It didn't come from the toad.
It came from him.
His body cracked again, violently this time. Tentacles burst from his back, slithering and writhing like vines made of muscle and rage. His mouth split open like a blooming flower made of meat revealing rows of impossible teeth. His eyes glowed crimson, pupils dilating until they nearly disappeared. The transformation had spiraled out of control.
> [He was losing control.]
In this unholy form, Kaleem surged forward.
With a screech that fractured windows and shook the hallway, he struck the creature. His claw tore open its chest in a single swing. But he didn't stop there. He kept clawing, slashing through bone and flesh, rending it apart piece by piece.
The toad shrieked in agony, its voice like a blend of whale-song and chirping insects—discordant, maddening. It swung at him with its stitched arms, but Kaleem lunged and sank his monstrous teeth into one, tearing it off in a spray of green-black blood.
Tentacles stabbed into the beast's body, puncturing organs and dragging out stitching. Its internal guts were pulled loose like tangled yarn as Kaleem tore it apart.
The killing blow was brutal—his claws plunged into the creature's chest cavity, crushed its core, and ruptured something important. The creature spasmed. Then fell.
But Kaleem didn't stop.
He kept slashing. Tearing. Screeching.
He only stopped when there was nothing left to destroy.
The battle ended.
The abomination collapsed in pieces. But Kaleem—his flesh warped and twisted—kept moving. His form warped uncontrollably as his face dissolved into flesh tendrils.
Sores burst open across his skin.
"GRAAAAAAHHHHH—!!"
He screamed in a dozen voices—some human, some _not_. The hallway echoed with pain and madness.
And then… he heard it.
A whisper. His whisper. His _real_ voice. Gentle, centered, terrified—but still his.
"Wake up."
A moment later, the tentacles shriveled and retracted into his body, sucked back as if never there. The monstrous claws melted into fingers. His fangs turned back to teeth. Then came the whispers in his head became a cacophony of unintelligible phrases:
> "Fall."
> "The Mother welcomes thee..."
> "See the truth of the ******."
> "The ****** will rise..."
Words not meant for understanding were forcibly erased from his memory. Even the thoughts left behind felt scarred, wrong, tainted.
Ten minutes later, Kaleem lay collapsed on the ground.
His human form had returned. His clothes were soaked in blood and sweat. Dark circles hung under his eyes. His breath came in weak gasps, as if each inhale clawed its way into his lungs.
He turned his head.
The toad's dismembered corpse was beginning to disintegrate. What remained behind was... something. An organ. It looked like a tongue—barbed, blood-red, twitching faintly as if it still lived.
Kaleem stared at it, too exhausted to move. The whispers were gone, for now. But he knew deep down, this was just the beginning.