Abysmal darkness consumed the cavern.
A darkness so thick, so raw, it drowned the senses like a black ocean with no surface. Eyes, even the most trained, could perceive nothing beyond its oppressive veil. And even if they could—if somehow they pierced through that infinite night—the mind would simply refuse. Refuse to process what it saw, to understand the twisted forms and writhing madness that slept within.
Because what hid there… was not meant for mortal eyes.
This was not darkness as the absence of light. No. This was something else. A presence. Alive. Breathing.
Even the brave, even the seasoned, would feel their knees falter under its weight. Some might call it a hallucination. Others, a curse. But those who dared to venture further into its depths would find only a grotesque truth: a mountain of corpses, twisted and stacked like broken toys discarded by an angry god.
And they too would join that mound—screaming, bleeding, then still.
The air reeked of copper and old rot, yet beneath the stench of death lurked a sweetness. A perfume. Faint, seductive. Dangerous.
A trap.
The Etheric Embrace.
Not a scent. A curse. A poison so potent it slipped past the defenses of even the most resilient creatures. None could enter this cave without breathing it. And once inhaled, it clung to your lungs, your blood, your soul.
Those too weak would die quickly—moaning in an ecstasy so intense, it shattered their minds. Those stronger, gifted with hardened flesh or spiritual resistance, would resist the initial wave. But even they were not safe.
The Etheric Embrace turned their strength against them. Their bodies would launch a frenzied battle, expelling antibodies to combat the invading toxin. But to survive, they had to remain still—absolutely still. One breath too deep, one muscle too tight, and the poison would spread faster.
Stillness meant safety. Stillness meant death.
That contradiction destroyed them.
A beast nearly three meters tall knelt in the center of the cave. Legs crossed, body motionless. Meditating. Purging.
He had sensed the poison too late. Foolishly confident in his power, he ignored the warnings. And while he focused inward, a smaller shadow—barely half his size—stepped out of the darkness and took his head in a single, soundless strike.
The creature never saw it coming. And the shadow disappeared just as it had come: silent, swift, merciless.
—
Far from that cave, miles through the twisted trees of the haunted forest, a boy moved.
Not ran—glided.
He was not fleeing, nor chasing. He was navigating. Leaping from branch to branch like a wild animal, as if the forest belonged to him. As if the darkness welcomed him.
And then… his left foot missed.
"Arghhh!"
The branch snapped beneath his heel and sent him tumbling. He smashed against branches, bark, roots. Pain bloomed across his ribs and skull, and then—darkness.
He lay there, limbs sprawled, breath shallow.
When consciousness returned, it came like fire. A pressure in his skull, a burning in his chest. Worse than anything he'd felt in all his lifetimes.
The boy with heterochromatic eyes—one green, one blue—staggered upright. His breaths came sharp, rapid.
Climbing a tree with feline grace, he paused among the branches, eyes narrowed, sweat trickling down his temple.
"I'm cursed…"
The thought wasn't new. But today, it hit deeper.
"My name is Kain… but everyone calls me Karius. In this life, in this cursed world where magic shapes everything… I chose not to learn it. What a fucking idiot…"
He bit down on his tongue.
"Do you even understand what that means? I had the chance—gods, I had the time. Twelve fucking years in this body, and I barely learned the mandatory basics! Just a few tricks. That's all!"
His thoughts burned. Loud. Wild.
"And for what? For pride? Because I thought my fists were enough?!"
Karius clenched them now—his fists. Tight. Bleeding.
"And now… now I wake up again, in this sick world, where even the trees seem to breathe. And I feel it. I remember. Everything."
The memories were jumbled, fractured. Dozens of lives, stitched together by threads of pain and regret. Some lives blurred. Others screamed. But one detail echoed in every life:
"I never once… Not once… made love to a woman. Not once."
He said it out loud.
It wasn't shame. It wasn't sorrow. It was fury.
"My body… it always failed me. Every time. And in some lives, the shame drove me to suicide. I slit my own throat just to escape it."
His hands trembled.
"Why? What did I do? Who cursed me?"
He didn't know. He couldn't know. But the pattern was too perfect. Too cruel to be coincidence.
"It's not just failure," he whispered. "It's punishment."
And suddenly, he laughed. A short, bitter sound.
"Maybe I wronged someone. Maybe I touched a goddess's daughter, or betrayed a demon prince. Maybe I was a monster… or a fool. Or both."
He lifted his shirt collar and ran fingers over the scars along his neck—some healed, others still fresh.
Then, he summoned it.
From his fingertip, a black claw emerged, thin and sharp as obsidian. With a flick, he carved a cross into his skin—just beneath the existing wounds.
"This will stay," he said. "Until I find who did this. If someone did.
"And if no one did… then it means I've always been a fool."
His breath caught.
The word Zeta flashed in his mind like lightning.
Zeta Camp. Chains. Teeth. Bites. Scars…
The sound of whips.
He touched his neck again—and something in him cracked.
"I was theirs," he whispered.
"They owned me."
And then came the worst memory.
The only life where he had been… touched.
Where women—monsters—had imposed themselves on him. When he was still young. Far too young.
"I didn't want it. They were stronger. They forced me."
His voice shook. His limbs trembled. The shame boiled, the rage ignited.
His pupils dilated.
A 'pop' echoed through his skull as blood surged into his sclera.
His green eye glowed. So did the blue. The whites of his eyes were now pitch black. His skin bubbled. His frame stretched.
From a child… to something else.
Muscle. Bone. Claw. Fur. Height. Rage…
His body towered now at four meters, no longer human. His jumpsuit ripped away, replaced by raw black fur over his torso and limbs. His hair, once short, flowed past his back—dark violet, dancing as if in defiance of gravity.
His mouth twisted. Teeth sharpened. Nails became talons.
And from the darkness…
They came.
Eight beasts. Wolf-like. Winged. Massive. Six meters tall, with silver chains dragging behind them. Some flew. Others crouched low, tails slashing stone.
Karius didn't hesitate.
He didn't blink.
And when they roared… he roared louder.
"ROOOAAAARRRRR!!!"