Red.

  Everything was so red, it was practically a theme party and blood was the dress code.

  My vision? Bathed in crimson, as if someone had dunked my eyeballs into boiling ink and gave the lens a nice swirl.

  Tears? Dried up ages ago. Now it was just streaks of blood carving scenic little canyons down my face.

  My eyes—once dull like a washed-up salaryman on a Monday—now blazed like twin hell-forged daggers, sharp enough to shave the beard off a star.

  My veins writhed under my skin, pulsing like rebellious cables trying to break free. Each throb screamed one thing and one thing only:

  Hatred.

  Not your garden-variety “someone stole my fries” rage. No—this was ancient, cathedral-burning, monster-punching, reality-scarring hatred. Every breath I took was a bellows stoking the inferno inside me. My knuckles cracked one by one, each pop a love letter to the pain I’d survived.

  Then she emerged from the wreckage, all legs and eyeballs like a walking anxiety attack. She skittered with all the elegance of a caffeinated spider, her thousand eyes blinking in creepy harmony as she tried to figure me out.

  I didn’t move.

  Just stood there, loose like a puppet whose strings had snapped—or maybe set themselves on fire. My mouth was mumbling arcane nonsense, sure, but up top?

  My mind was sharp.

  Focused.

  Cold as a meat locker full of vengeance.

  She paused. I felt her hesitate.

  She was doing the math, trying to make sense of the fact that I wasn’t flinching, posing, or screaming. Just standing there like I’d already seen the end of the movie and knew she wasn’t the final boss.

  Predator?

  Prey?

  Plot twist: I was both.

  With a click of her tongue—probably to hype herself up—she lunged. Her limbs sliced the air, fast enough to make sound politely step aside. One moment she was across the clearing, the next—shunk—her claw burst through my back and out my chest like a surprise party I didn’t RSVP to.

  Bone snapped. Blood sprayed. I went limp.

  And she smirked.

  “Well, well,” she purred, smugger than a cat knocking over priceless vases. “You had me nervous for a second. But look at you… still weak, Jin.”

  Then—

  “Bleeeehhh~”

  The noise just… fell out of me. Like a deflating balloon possessed by a demon clown. And then I laughed. At first, a chuckle. Then a wheeze. Then full-blown, blood-gargling cackles. Real Joker-in-the-bathtub energy.

  I turned my head. My eyes were glowing—not just red, but chaos incarnate. My tongue hung out like a dog mocking death itself.

  And I smiled. Wide. Too wide.

  Then I grabbed her.

  Bare hands clamped onto her wrists like vices dipped in nightmares. Her scaly skin—once invincible—started cracking like cheap porcelain in winter. Black blood oozed out before I even squeezed. She looked down, confused. Concerned.

  Still grinning. Still giggling like a psychopath at a tea party.

  “Come here, Tiny Terror.” I said, voice lower, fuller—less “dying man,” more “cosmic reckoning.”

  As if summoned by sheer drama, a gauntlet appeared—etched in stars, forged from swirling void-stuff. It clamped onto my arm like destiny just got personal.

  Crack.

  Her forearms shattered like dried twigs underfoot. She screamed—a glorious, soul-ripping, opera-worthy shriek. Her pride disintegrated with every note. She pulled back, desperate, but didn’t budge an inch.

  She wasn’t holding me.

  I was holding her.

  And she was not getting away.

  [Void Cloak]

  Vorpal Hex – Evolution I

  4,321 / 20,000 Points

  Description:

  Through repeated immersion in cosmic forces, your body has merged with spatial essence, transforming you into a walking singularity. You can now invoke the physical manifestation of the Void to repel physical and mental intrusion. This smoky cloak can be morphed into tools, weapons, or armor by channeling mana, scaling with your attributes.

  Added Effects:

  +100% primary stat bonus

  50 mana per transformation

  30-minute active duration

  45-minute cooldown

  After weeks of letting [Vorpal Hex] simmer in my skin like a cursed marinade, the skill finally did what all good nightmares do—it evolved. Or maybe devolved into something more primal. More monstrous. More me.

  One whisper of mana and boom—magic happened.

  The air didn’t just ripple. It flinched.

  A suffocating cloud of obsidian fog slithered out, curling around me like a vengeful blanket with anger issues. It pulsed, hissed, and then lashed out, stretching like a bad mood until it wrapped the shrieking creature from neck to toe. The moment it solidified, it was like watching living tar freeze mid-scream.

  My body surged, muscles knotting like steel ropes under my skin. The cloak amplified everything—power, grip, dramatic flair. Her mangled arm? It wasn’t just broken anymore. It was betraying her on a spiritual level.

  Her screams shattered the cavern’s silence like cracked glass under a boot. Her knees hit the floor with a delicious thud, and for the first time in forever, she looked afraid.

  “Hahahahaha—oh man, I swear—if you couldn’t feel pain, I’d be so disappointed,” I said, voice gleeful with the kind of malice that made villains look like motivational speakers. My eyes burned crimson, bright enough to start a campfire—or maybe a war.

  I strolled forward.

  With a motion both surgical and sadistic, I tore her shoulder backward. The sounds? Skin splitting, tendons snapping, bone popping—like the world’s worst ASMR channel. Blood sprayed in high def, painting the floor like we were redecorating in arterial red.

  [Ting!]

  [Trait Activated: Ungodly]

  And then, because I’m a big fan of snacks and spite, I bit into the severed limb like it was a drumstick at a haunted buffet. The taste? Metallic, hot, and deeply satisfying.

  “You know…” I mumbled between chews, blood trailing down my chin like a very aggressive wine tasting, “I always assumed monsters couldn’t feel pain. But here you are—screaming like a toddler who dropped her ice cream. Hilarious.”

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  [Ting!]

  [You healed 30 HP]

  “Y-you filthy son of—!”

  Before she could finish her villain monologue, I grabbed her other arm and yeeted it into her face. With a solid CRACK, it connected. She rocketed backward like a deflating blimp, bam! into the wall. A crater bloomed around her like nature's way of saying, Oops.

  I raised a hand to my ear, grinning.

  “Sorry, what was that? Couldn’t hear you over the sound of your bones rearranging.”

  I casually brushed the dust off what was left of my pants—at this point, more concept than clothing—and sauntered forward like I had a dinner date with destiny.

  The rubble groaned.

  Then she burst from it, all fury and glowing blue eyes like a banshee on espresso. Her claws scraped across the floor, shrieking as she lunged.

  “How… How did you become so strong?!” she screamed, desperation dripping from every syllable.

  “Aww, come on now~” I sang, twirling a string of her webbing like I was prepping a finger puppet, “Don’t be dramatic, Mother. Maybe you were just born this weak.”

  “NOOOOO!! Not again!! I won’t lose again!!” she howled—and then came the webbing. Thick strands fired out, wrapping around my arms and torso like clingy guilt.

  “Hah! Now you’re mine!” she declared, full villain mode engaged.

  Cue record scratch.

  Hmph?

  The webbing shuddered.

  Then trembled.

  Then—plunk-plunk-plunk—snapped, like someone tried to hold back a bulldozer with spaghetti noodles.

  And I laughed.

  Not a little giggle. Not a mischievous chuckle.

  This was a full-blown, unhinged, “you-should-see-a-therapist” cackle that echoed like a funeral bell for hope.

  “W-why are you laughing?!” she shrieked, her voice hitting octaves usually reserved for glass-breaking.

  I didn’t answer.

  I just stepped forward, slowly, grinning like the apocalypse had a name—and it was mine.

  “Ohhh, Mother~” I purred, my voice soft but loaded with malice. The void cloak shimmered around me, pulsing with murderous glee. “You keep trying so hard… and failing so beautifully. Honestly? It’s comedy gold.”

  That last line? Yeah, it hit her like an insult in a group chat.

  Her face twitched. Veins bulged. Muscles coiled like an overcaffeinated spring—and then—

  BOOM!

  She launched.

  A flurry of pale limbs, shrieking like a banshee with a personal vendetta. Mouth wide, fangs glinting—going for the classic “bite-the-hero’s-head-off” maneuver.

  CRUNCH!!

  Too slow.

  My heel snapped up like a trap, colliding with her jaw mid-flight. The impact? Glorious. Her head whipped back, body following like an unwilling gymnast tossed by fate.

  And of course, I chased.

  I crouched low—stone cracking underfoot—then launched, catching her mid-air like an overexcited fan at a concert. One hand found her skull, the other guided the slam.

  BOOM!

  She hit the ground face-first like a busted pi?ata. The floor crumbled beneath us, shockwaves rippling outward. Her legs flailed—pitiful, twitchy, like a bug realizing it picked the wrong shoe to challenge.

  Drip. Drip. Drip…

  Thick, tar-like blood oozed from her mouth, slow and dramatic. I grabbed a fistful of her dark hair—surprisingly soft under all that gore—and yanked her head up like a prize catch.

  Her face? Total mess. Bone-jigsaw meets regret.

  I beamed.

  “That was fun! Can we go again, Mom?” I chirped with all the deranged enthusiasm of a kid at a theme park where the rides involve internal bleeding.

  “N-No—” she gasped.

  Too late.

  I yeeted her again skyward, her body spinning like a dysfunctional helicopter blade.

  “There you go~! And here I come!!” I howled, giddy and completely off the rails.

  The void cloak responded like a hype man. Shadow limbs burst out and catapulted me after her. Mid-air, I caught her, spun, and powerbombed us straight through the marble floor like a full time anime trope.

  CRASH!!

  We plummeted into the cavern below. Ice-cold water splashed as we landed, the stone beneath us groaning in agony. A shaft of light pierced the dark, but I barely noticed—my senses had graduated from basic biology.

  Cold? Meh.

  Water? I’ve bled more.

  The real fun?

  She was hiding.

  Bleeding. Shaking. Somewhere in the ceiling shadows like a sulking spider who just realized the fly bites back.

  I scanned the space.

  No escape.

  Just us—and the uncomfortable family tension of a Thanksgiving dinner gone very wrong.

  I laughed. Loud. Mocking.

  “Look at us,” I mused. “You hiding in the dark… me standing in it. Tables turned, huh? Guess I’m the one grounding you now.”

  "HISSSSSSS!!"

  She screeched. A pulse of murderous intent pressed down like a migraine from hell—then silence.

  Her glowing eyes flickered.

  Then vanished.

  “Sh*t…” I muttered, flipping on [Truthseeker].

  Nothing.

  Empty.

  Gone.

  And then I realized—she’d been snacking on me like a forbidden lunchable for weeks. My blood, my skills… my tricks.

  She inherited me.

  This got so much worse.

  But what did I do?

  I grinned.

  Because why the hell not?

  “To hell with it all! Come on, Mother! Let’s play another round!!”

  She accepted the invitation with a love tap to the ribs.

  THWACK!!

  Her foot connected like a meteor, and I coughed up blood—lots of it. But I didn’t fall.

  I stood.

  Teeth red. Eyes wilder than ever.

  And oh, her face when I smiled?

  Priceless.

  She blinked.

  Maybe it finally hit her.

  She wasn’t fighting her child anymore.

  She was fighting the monster she made.

  And when she tried to vanish again?

  I moved first.

  In a blink, my arms—one flesh, one pure nightmare fuel—snatched her mid-air like a kid catching a balloon that got too cocky. I gripped both her feet tight and let her dangle upside down, flailing like a possessed windchime.

  “JIIIIIIIIINNNN!!!” she screeched, claws slicing at the air, her body twitching with newly regrown limbs.

  “Aww, look at you! Stealing my regeneration too? What’s next, my fashion sense?” I cackled. “I mean, credit where it's due—genetic theft is still theft.”

  But the mother-son reunion ended fast.

  RRRRIIIIIIPPP!!!

  I ripped two of her legs clean off—like tearing meat from overcooked rotisserie. Tendons snapped, ligaments stretched, and a geyser of viscous blood painted the stones in her misery.

  “AAAHHHHHHHH!!! MY LEGS!!”

  Music to my ears. Terrifying, yes—but oddly cathartic.

  THUD.

  She crashed to the ground like a sack of expired limbs, twitching and leaking regret. She crawled—actually crawled—leaving behind a black, glossy trail like a slug that hated itself.

  I approached.

  Slow. Intentional. The kind of walk you save for final bosses and awkward family reunions.

  She looked up at me through what was left of her face—no screaming this time. Just shaky breaths and bloodshot silence.

  I crouched. My knees popped like bubble wrap. My voice softened, losing its manic pitch.

  “Mom,” I murmured, brushing her hair aside gently, fingers sticky with her blood. “It’s time. You’ve got to clock out.”

  “...Oh… Jin…”

  Her voice. So soft. So… human. Just a whisper—but one dipped in the ghost of lullabies and distant bedtime stories. The warmth in it sucker-punched me right in the memory lane.

  And I froze.

  Just for a heartbeat.

  For a sliver of a second, I was a kid again. A scared kid. And she? She was… mom. The kind of mom who fought the monsters under the bed.

  Too bad she became one.

  Her aura faded. Her body slackened. She was done. Surrendering—not to me, but to the truth.

  I exhaled once. Then with a single, fluid motion, I brought my hand down.

  Shffk.

  Steel sliced cleanly through her neck. No flair. No drama. Just quiet finality. Her head slipped free, hit the stone, rolled once, and came to a peaceful stop.

  That smile?

  Still there.

  Bittersweet. Eternal. Like she finally got the rest she’d been clawing for all this time.

  [Ting!]

  [You leveled up +1]

  The notification pinged in my skull like an awkward applause at a funeral.

  But I didn’t feel victorious. Just… weirdly hollow. The kind of ache you get when you win the game but forget why you started playing.

  I turned away.

  Hunger still gnawed at me, but I couldn’t bring myself to devour what remained. Not this time. Not her.

  Instead, I gathered the fallen limbs—mine, hers, a family reunion in pieces—cold and crusted with blood. That’s when I saw it.

  A faint glow, like a heartbeat under the muck.

  Buried deep in her ruined chest, hidden beneath layers of congealed eyes and dead things, pulsed a Soul Core. Roughly the size of a ping-pong ball. Crimson. Dim. And strangely… sad.

  It didn’t shine with power.

  It mourned.

  Like even the magic inside her knew—

  This wasn’t a victory.

  It was a requiem.

  [Soul Core (Mater Mala)]

  Rare Quality

  Qty: 1

  Description:

  By consuming this item, you will gain 500 experience and 150 skill points. It also restores 1000 HP. Alternatively, it can serve as a vital component in crafting. The embedded memory shell remains intact and can only be accessed when used as a material supplement.

  “Memory shell…?” I muttered, squinting at the unfamiliar term like it owed me money. I pinged the system for answers—silence. Figures. The one time I don’t need ominous mystery, it gives me the cold shoulder.

  With a sigh that sounded more exhausted than heroic, I dragged the mangled mess of meat, limbs, and—let’s be honest—mom chunks toward the carved upgrade circle.

  “Really didn’t think my upgrade path would involve feeding my own dismembered body parts to a demonic forge,” I muttered. “I mean, who needs therapy when you’ve got irony?”

  As I reached the circle, a jolt like I’d stuck my fingers in a cursed socket zipped up my arm. A jagged panel flickered into view.

  [Opening: Bio-Forge]

  “Well, nothing screams ‘good idea’ like bio-mechanical horror,” I grumbled through clenched teeth.

  Black, sinewy tentacles burst from my gauntlet like it had a vendetta against personal space—slimy, twitching, and smelling like chemical warfare in a sewer. My whole body spasmed. Every nerve screamed, “WHY ARE WE LIKE THIS?!”

  The tentacles tore into the offering without hesitation—shredding through flesh, bones, even the potted crimson flowers. (Poor plants never saw it coming.) Everything vanished into my palm like a meat smoothie.

  And then—

  [Ting!]

  [Upgrade Complete]

  [Void Terror Gauntlets – Level 4]

  Rook-Rank Bio-Gauntlets

  Rare Quality

  ATK: +150

  STR: +20 | INT: +15

  AGI: +11 | VIT: +8

  DEF: +60 | MOR: -20

  Effects:

  Acid Spree: Attacks are coated with a corrosive slime, dealing -15 splash damage and a 15% chance to apply acid DOT (2 HP/sec).

  Spiderkin: Grants wall-climbing and web-shooting abilities. Wall-cling drains 2 mana/sec. Webs cost 15 mana/use.

  My eyes lit up as the stats rolled in. The searing agony faded, replaced by a spark of pure, volatile power humming through every cell. This. This I could work with. Maybe even survive with.

  But before I could bask in my upgrade glow, a soft system chime flickered into view like it was politely trying to ruin my day.

  [Notice]

  A memory shell is available. Do you wish to access it?

  [Yes / No]

  I stared.

  Then, barely above a whisper, I let the word slip from my lips like I was defusing a bomb with my voice.

  “…Yes.”

  And just like that—the world collapsed into silence.

  There was no transition. No warning.

  One heartbeat, and I was gone—swallowed whole by an endless void. The weight of gravity, the sensation of breath, the beat of my own heart… all stripped away. I floated, numb and disembodied, in a sea of absolute nothingness.

  No light. No warmth. Just cold.

  And from that frozen stillness… her memories began to unfold like dying flowers.

  A woman’s hand—weathered yet impossibly gentle—combed through the tangled hair of a young boy curled in her lap. Her fingertips trembled slightly, not from weakness, but the tenderness of love she feared might vanish too soon.

  The scent of simmering broth filled a tiny, worn kitchen. Their home wasn’t much. But in that small space, laughter rang like wind chimes on a summer breeze. They ate together by candlelight, trading stories and smiles over chipped bowls. That night, everything was whole.

  Then it ended.

  Just like that—snuffed out.

  The warmth dimmed. The edges of the memory bled black. Her smile faltered. Panic bloomed behind her eyes as the boy vanished into shadow. She called his name, over and over, voice cracking with dread. But no answer came.

  Time twisted—malicious and cruel.

  She lay on unfamiliar soil, cold and broken. Her body, once strong, now barely clung to life. A figure stepped from the dark—eyes glowing like coals buried in ash. He said nothing. Made no sound.

  Then—agony.

  His hand pierced her chest with a terrible finality, like a blade forged from betrayal. Her blood was no longer red, but thick, black sludge—oozing, multiplying. Eyes—so many eyes—bloomed across her skin like tumors of torment. Her screams were swallowed by madness.

  She begged.

  She pleaded.

  But sympathy never came.

  Only cruelty. Unrelenting, impersonal, complete.

  A strike cracked across her face, sending her crumpling. Her limbs faded—erased by some twisted design. Her mind fractured. Her voice warped into a ragged sob. And there, in the ruins of what she once was, her soul curled inward like a dying flame.

  Then—she saw him.

  Red eyes. So familiar.

  The boy she had once held. Sang to. Loved more than anything.

  Her lips quivered. Hope tried to crawl its way up through the devastation.

  She whispered one final word—raw, broken, barely audible—scraped from the depths of her unraveling soul:

  “...Jin…”

  And then—like a candle blown out in the dead of winter—

  Darkness took her back.

  Forever.

  Outer Celestials,

  Follow and add this novel to your Favorites.

  [Ting!]

  [A Review and Rating would be helpful too.]