I

  So where was I even supposed to begin?

  I stood in the middle of one of the cathedral’s many richly ornamented corridors, completely out of ideas. I had agreed to help — that much was true — but I didn’t have a single lead to follow. No signs. No heavy atmosphere. No creeping darkness. No shiver down my spine. Nothing that would suggest the creature was anywhere nearby.

  Was it plotting something? I wondered.

  I couldn’t dismiss that possibility, even if it seemed unlikely. A move from the Corporation felt far more probable.

  With that thought in mind, I double-checked that every nearby door was closed, then spoke into the earpiece.

  “You heard all of that?”

  “More or less,” Morgan replied. “This damn equipment barely works.”

  “So what’s the plan?”

  “I don’t think we have much choice. You’ll have to do what they said. We’ll keep an eye on things from the outside. Something tells me it’s all going to blow up soon.”

  Before I could respond, he cut the connection.

  “Fantastic,” I muttered.

  I pulled everything from my backpack and from beneath my jacket, laying it out carefully. My gear wasn’t exactly modest: a pistol with two spare magazines, a knife, a crowbar, a flashlight, and a Molotov cocktail. Not much of it seemed particularly useful for tracking a demon — except maybe the flashlight.

  I armed myself again and began checking the rooms one by one.

  II

  I searched the entire first floor — nearly dozens of rooms — and found nothing that would help me locate the creature.

  To make matters worse, the commander had gone silent. No response, no matter how many times I tried to reach him.

  The only good news was that, for now, nothing serious seemed to be happening inside the cathedral itself. At least from what I could glimpse during my search.

  Standing at the staircase, wondering which floor to check next, a new thought crossed my mind.

  Why would a demon even come here?

  I hadn’t questioned it before. Their presence in the city felt almost natural by now. And it was natural — in the streets, outside the church, in someone’s house. Those places had elements that could attract something like that.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  But here?

  The cathedral operated under a different pattern. A different reality. It didn’t belong to this sector. It stood apart precisely because nothing bad ever happened here.

  Once I realized that, only two possibilities remained: either someone had played me for a fool, or something had happened here that didn’t belong.

  The first option seemed far more logical.

  I had just decided to head back to the priest when I heard the sound of shattering glass from one of the rooms.

  III

  The moment I crossed the threshold, my boots crushed scattered shards of glass.

  I crouched down and noticed the fragments weren’t random — they formed something like a mosaic. A moment later I recognized it: a vase. Just like the dozens of others decorating this place.

  “Guess the priest has a thing for those,” I muttered.

  When I lifted my gaze, I saw darkness slowly creeping in from the corridor.

  Very slowly.

  I drew my pistol, waiting. The creature didn’t appear at first. Growing impatient, I started moving deeper into the hallway — and that was when it revealed itself.

  Slimy, black-as-night tendrils began crawling along the walls toward me.

  I slammed the door shut and looked for another way out. The only option seemed to be the window overlooking the courtyard.

  Before I could act, the creature smashed through the door with terrifying force. Its limbs spilled into the room, writhing across the floor.

  Then, unexpectedly, they recoiled the moment they brushed against the shattered porcelain.

  Is it blind?

  That thought gave me a flicker of hope. The only visible parts of the creature were its tendrils — no eyes, no face. It wasn’t impossible that it relied purely on sound.

  Carefully avoiding the shards, I slipped back into the corridor.

  The demon had already spread through nearly every passage of the building. Fortunately, the priest had placed carpets everywhere, making it easier for me to move quietly.

  Still, I advanced painfully slowly, unsure where to go, trying not to trip over the ever-present tendrils.

  After what felt like an eternity, I reached the source — once again standing before the staircase.

  The sun was beginning to set.

  The moment of reflection didn’t last long. The creature’s stench hit me — thick, rotten, unmistakable — and it was coming from downstairs.

  Without hesitation, I pulled out my knife and hurled it as far as I could in the opposite direction, then moved toward the smell.

  The instant the blade clattered against the floor, the beast lunged after it — knocking me to the ground in the process.

  I froze on my back, waiting for the attack.

  It never came.

  “Probably mistook me for furniture,” I whispered to myself.

  While the demon focused on the knife, I sprinted downstairs toward its lair.

  The source was obvious now — the tendrils were pouring out from the wall of one locked room.

  The problem?

  The door was secured.

  And the creature had grown bored of its toy.

  It turned its attention back to me.

  I grabbed the crowbar and began forcing the door open, ignoring the rapid approach of the tendrils. Just as I thought I might succeed, the demon seized my leg and dragged me upward toward the stairs.

  In desperation, I grabbed the Molotov and hurled it into one of the cracks from which the tendrils emerged.

  The creature let out a horrifying, bubbling shriek and flung me straight into the vaulted ceiling.

  IV

  It took several minutes to regain consciousness. My muscles felt utterly wrecked.

  Ignoring the pain, I slowly looked around.

  Withered tendrils lay scattered across the floor, alongside thick pools of black blood.

  Yet there was no trace of fire.

  “Strange,” I muttered.

  I pushed through the barely standing door and entered what had once been the creature’s nest.

  The stench hadn’t faded.

  In the center of the room lay a body — torn apart from the inside.

  I stepped closer. The only thing I could identify was the Corporation’s logo on a grotesquely shattered helmet.

  My inspection was cut short by a burst of rifle fire echoing fro

  m the cathedral’s main hall.

  And just like that, I was back on alert.