The Forgotten Quarter swallowed them whole.
Beyond the ruined street where the beast had fallen, the air grew denser. The moldy stench gave way to something acrid, like burning blood and incense. A faint, pulsing glow bled from deeper within, a rhythm that matched no torch or lantern—it was like the beating of a heart.
Seoyeon whispered, "Do you hear that?"
Hyunjae did. Not with his ears, but in his bones. A low thrum, like veins pulsing through the earth. His sword answered it, faint crimson light weaving in rhythm.
Jiseok's grip tightened on his staff as he led them forward. "We are close."
The ruins opened into a courtyard.
At its center stood a shrine—once belonging to some forgotten household deity, now desecrated. The stone altar was painted black with dried blood, cracked idols smeared with foul runes. Around it, dozens of men and women knelt, their serpent masks glowing faintly in the dark.
They chanted, voices low and dissonant, like the grinding of bone. The language was not human—it scraped against the ears, every syllable like a curse.
Above them loomed a pit, wide and jagged, as though the earth itself had rotted open. Black qi poured from it in waves, making the air shimmer. Shadows coiled along the edges, writhing like living things.
Hyunjae's breath caught as he realized what lay within.
Bodies.
Dozens of them, piled like refuse. Men, women, even children, their chests rising and falling though their eyes were lifeless. Black veins crawled across their skin, pulsing in time with the chanting.
Seoyeon's ribbons trembled in her hands. "They're… still alive."
"No," Jiseok said quietly. His voice was heavy with old grief. "They're becoming."
The chanting reached a crescendo.
One of the masked cultists stepped forward, a knife of bone in his hand. He raised it high, then plunged it into the chest of a man at the pit's edge.
The man did not scream. Black qi erupted from his wound like smoke, wrapping around his body, cocooning him in writhing darkness. His limbs cracked as they bent the wrong way. His skin sloughed off like wet parchment. His jaw unhinged.
From his body rose not a man, but a beast of shadow, its maw splitting open in a howl that shook the stones.
The other bodies in the pit began to stir.
Seoyeon's face went pale. "They're making more."
Hyunjae's sword burned in his hand, crimson veins glowing like fire. The whispers inside his skull were ecstatic, louder than ever.
Yes. Feed. Cut them. Tear them apart. End them before they end you.
He staggered, gripping his head.
Seoyeon grabbed his arm. "Hyunjae!"
His vision blurred. For an instant, he saw not Seoyeon but her body bound to the altar, black veins crawling across her skin, her face hollowed into a mask of bone. His blade screamed for release.
"Hyunjae, look at me!" Her voice cracked through the fog. Her hands on him were real, warm, human. "Do not let it take you."
The world steadied. The whispers dulled, but did not vanish.
Across the pit, Jiseok's voice rang out. "If we hesitate, they will become legion. Choose now—do we strike, or do we run?"
Hyunjae's blade pulsed, eager for slaughter.
The cultists turned, their serpent masks gleaming. The beasts stirred, half-born from the pit.
Seoyeon's eyes searched Hyunjae's, fierce but afraid.
"What are you waiting for?" she hissed.
Hyunjae raised his sword. His heart pounded with fear, fury, and something darker, something that was not entirely his.
"We strike."
The courtyard erupted.
Crimson ribbons lashed outward, slicing through cultists before their chants could summon more shadows. Jiseok moved like a phantom, his sword splitting the air into arcs of silver light. Hyunjae leapt into the pit itself, his cursed blade blazing red against the black tide.
The first beast lunged at him. He cut it in half, the crimson burn unraveling its form. Another clawed from the pit wall—he split it with a scream.
But with every strike, the whispers cheered louder. His movements grew sharper, faster, less his own.
Above, Seoyeon called his name again, but it was drowned out by the roar of the blade.
And then—
From the pit's depths, something stirred.
The ground quaked. The half-born bodies were swept aside like kindling.
A hand, vast and skeletal, clawed its way upward. It was not flesh, nor shadow, but something between—ancient bone fused with living qi. The chanting cultists fell silent, their heads bowing low.
A voice deeper than stone echoed through the courtyard.
At last… the key has come.
The pit glowed black. The world seemed to tilt.
Hyunjae's sword answered with a blinding crimson flare.