The world held its breath.
Percy stood in the middle of the cracked, moss-choked courtyard, his boots sinking slightly into the damp earth beneath him. The air was thick — not just with humidity, but with something heavier, something ancient. It clung to his skin like a second layer, cold and electric, as if the atmosphere itself was waiting for something to snap.
And then it did.
The smiling entities — once statuesque, once eerily still — twitched.
It began with a subtle jerk of the head, a tilt too sharp to be human. Then came the twitching of fingers, the cracking of joints, the slow, deliberate widening of their grotesque grins. Their lips peeled back, revealing rows of teeth that didn't belong in any natural mouth — too many, too sharp, too wet. Their eyes, once vacant, now shimmered with a sickly yellow glow, like candlelight behind rotting parchment.
They moved.
Not like people. Not like animals. Like something that had watched humans for too long and tried to mimic them — badly. Their limbs flailed with unnatural speed, their torsos twisting in ways that defied bone and muscle. They sprinted toward him, bare feet slapping against stone, leaving behind smears of black ichor with every step.
The wisp in Percy's bracelet pulsed once — a soft, frightened flicker of light — then vanished, retreating into the metal like a child hiding beneath a bed.
Percy didn't breathe. Couldn't. His lungs locked up, his heart stuttered. For a moment, he was a statue — a boy carved from fear.
Then instinct roared through him like a wildfire.
He turned and ran.
His boots pounded the ground, kicking up dust and fragments of shattered stone. His breath came in ragged bursts, each inhale scraping his throat raw. Behind him, the entities shrieked — a sound that wasn't made for ears. It was layered, discordant, like a choir of broken violins screaming in unison.
The sound tore through the sky.
And the sky answered.
Clouds above twisted, spiraling inward like a whirlpool in reverse. The light dimmed, not from the setting sun, but from something arriving. A shadow fell across the town — vast, slow, and deliberate.
The Bird of Forgotten Songs descended.
It didn't flap its wings. It didn't beat the air. It simply lowered, as if gravity had decided to reverse for it alone. Its wings were impossibly wide, each feather etched with glowing runes that shimmered like starlight trapped in ink. Its body was long, lean and muscular, cloaked in a mist that bled into the sky. It made no sound. It didn't need to.
Its presence was a scream.
Percy's legs burned. His lungs begged for mercy. But he didn't stop.
One of the entities lunged from the side, its skeletal fingers wrapping around his forearm like a vice. Its skin was cold and rubbery, like wet leather left out too long. Its weight dragged him down.
He fell.
The world tilted. His body slammed into the ground, the impact jarring his teeth. His tongue caught between molars, tearing open. A hot gush of blood flooded his mouth, metallic and thick. His chin scraped against the stone, skin peeling back in a raw, stinging line.
The entity climbed atop him, straddling his chest. Its face hovered inches from his, breath reeking of rot and copper. It raised a jagged knife — more bone than metal — and brought it down.
Percy twisted.
The blade missed his throat by a whisper. He rolled, the entity tumbling off with a wet grunt. His hand shot out, fingers closing around the knife's hilt. It was slick with something — blood, maybe, or something worse — but he didn't care.
He staggered to his feet, swaying like a drunk, blood dripping from his mouth.
My tongue is throbbing, he thought, the pain pulsing in time with his heartbeat. And there's too many of them.
Above, the Bird hovered.
Its head turned — slowly, impossibly — until one glowing eye faced the chaos below. It didn't blink. It didn't move. But Percy felt it watching.
The entities froze.
So did he.
The Bird descended further. Its talons — long, curved, and glowing faintly — reached down and plucked one of the fallen entities from the ground. It didn't eat it. It unmade it. The creature dissolved in its grip, reduced to ash and light.
Then another.
Then silence.
The Bird vanished, folding into the clouds like a dream ending.
Percy spat blood, the crimson splattering across the stone. His chest heaved. His legs trembled.
Then the others moved again.
He turned and sprinted toward a nearby cabin — its roof half-collapsed, its walls leaning like tired old men. He shoved the door open and slammed it behind him, the wood groaning in protest.
But he wasn't alone.
From the shadows, an entity emerged. It looked like an old man — hunched, wrinkled, eyes sunken deep into his skull. But the smile was the same. Too wide. Too wrong.
It lunged.
The pitchfork pierced Percy's back.
Pain exploded through his spine, white-hot and blinding. He clamped a hand over his mouth, biting down on his own scream. He knew — any sound would bring the Bird.
The pitchfork twisted.
He kicked backward, the metal scraping free. He collapsed onto the stairs, tears spilling from his eyes, blood trailing behind him.
'It hurts.'
'It hurts.'
'It hurts.'
'It hurts.'
He bit into his finger — not out of madness, but survival. The pain was a leash, a tether to silence. He bit hard. Flesh tore. Blood gushed.
His face twisted — not with rage, but something deeper. Something primal.
He rose.
The knife in his hand trembled, but his grip was iron. His eyes burned. His breath came in ragged bursts.
'I'll kill them.'
'All of them.'
The old entity broke through the door. Percy dodged, barely, and drove the blade into its throat. The resistance was sickening — cartilage, muscle, bone — then a spray of crimson across his face.
His turquoise eye glinted.
[You have slain a Smiling Entity.]
[You have gained 0.5 mastery over your knife.]
He stared at the blade, chest heaving.
Everything here… it's made of spirit energy.
He tore fabric from the corpse — rough, damp, and reeking of mold — and wrapped his finger, his back, his head. The cloth clung to his skin, sticky with blood.
Pitchfork in one hand. Knife in the other.
He descended the stairs.
Two female entities rushed him, knives flashing.
He hurled a table at one — the crash echoed like thunder.
The Bird crashed through the roof, crushing the entity into pulp. Blood soaked the floor, painting the walls.
'I can do this!'
'If I can use the Bird of Forgotten Songs to my advantage… I can win!'
The second woman lunged. Percy slashed her throat.
[You have slain another Smiling Entity.]
[You have gained 1 mastery over your knife.]
The bracelet chimed.
The Bird turned toward him.
Percy dove. Its claws grazed his arm. Pain flared. Blood sprayed. He gritted his teeth and ran.
He fought through the town, baiting the Bird with noise — crashing into walls, screaming, throwing debris. The Bird answered, devouring his enemies.
[You have slain 15 Smiling Entities.]
[You now have 9.5 mastery over your knife.]
[You have now gained the mastery level for the first skill of your knife.]
[Silent Cut — You can slash your opponent's throat, killing them swiftly at top speed.]
He grinned.
'Ha. A skill.'
'Death can have me when it earns me.'
Percy thought.
But pride is a blade with no hilt.
The bracelet chimed again signalling the bird his location.
The Bird lunged.
Its claws pierced his belly. He was lifted, then flung. He crashed into the ruins of yesterday's dinner. Plates shattered. Blood pooled.
He screamed, clutching his stomach.
'This is it… huh?'
He thought.
But he moved.
Groaning, he limped toward a shrine. Inside, a ruined altar. A blade pierced its heart.
He staggered forward.
An entity tackled him, fists raining down.
Through the haze of blood, he saw it.
The white iridescent cat.
It stood on the roof, eyes glowing.
"Do you want to live?"
Percy sobbed, tongue ruined, face swollen.
"Plwease… I want… too… live…"
Another punch. More blood.
Then a white wisp emerged from the cats mouth.
The wisp forced its way down Percy's throat.
It wasn't gentle. It wasn't graceful. It was invasive — a surge of light and pressure that clawed through his esophagus like a living flame. His body convulsed, back arching as the iridescent sparkles danced across his skin. His mouth stretched open in a silent scream, veins glowing beneath the surface like molten silver.
The cat — once radiant, once divine — turned gray.
Its fur dulled, its glow faded, and its body collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut. No ceremony. No farewell. Just death.
Percy's eyes widened as the transformation began.
A white crescent moon ignited on his right arm, the mark searing into his flesh with a hiss. It glowed with a brilliance that defied shadow, pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat. The pain was exquisite — not sharp, but deep, like something ancient being carved into his soul.
His right eye — once dull, once human — flared with light.
It wasn't just illumination. It was presence. The kind of glow that swallowed darkness, that bent reality around it. The pupil vanished, replaced by a swirling vortex of white and silver, like a star collapsing inward.
His hand moved.
Not by choice. Not by instinct. By will — foreign, divine, irresistible.
It reached forward, trembling with power, and touched the face of the entity still beating him. The moment skin met skin, the creature froze.
Its smile faltered.
Its eyes widened.
Then its face began to unravel.
Not melt. Not burn. Disintegrate. The flesh turned to dust, peeling away in layers, revealing bone, then nothing. A ball of light erupted from where its head had been, expanding outward in a silent explosion that left no trace.
Percy stared, chest heaving, blood dripping from his chin.
[You have been partially possessed.]
The Wisp Bracelet chimed once again.
The sound was soft — almost gentle — but it echoed like a bell tolling in a cathedral of corpses.
Percy collapsed to his knees, the adrenaline fading, the pain rushing back in. His stomach throbbed, his back screamed, his finger pulsed with agony. Every breath was a battle. Every heartbeat a war.
But he was alive.
Barely.