Hours later, the storm had passed, but the city was no less drowned.
The survivors trudged east through the wreckage, their silence louder than any storm. Each footstep splashed, sucked, dragged. The air was heavy with the wet stink of feathers and mildew, of decay too long left to fester.
Rain clung to everything; rooftops sagging under rot, gutted cars huddled in rows, black water pooled in potholes deep enough to hide corpses. The streets gleamed like oil-slick glass, and the gutters ran brown, foaming with filth that stank of rust and blood. Steam rose from sewer grates in thin, curling ghosts.
Mara kept them moving. She was always at the front, crowbar in hand, shoulders stiff with determination. Her voice was raw, but it cut through the quiet:
East. Always east. Across the river, the shelter's there. If it still stands, it'll be there.
But even hope couldn't drown the tension.
Hana, whose hatred for Jonah hadn't subsided, lingered close to Elias as they walked. Her eyes kept flicking to him—hesitant, curious, a question that she never let out. Once, her mouth opened as if she might speak, but she closed it again, pressing the thought down like it might get her killed.
Jonah trudged behind them, jaw tight, boots dragging. He hadn't spoken since. His eyes were sunken, bloodshot, his expression twisted with something Elias couldn't name; guilt, fear, and something uglier. He feels alienated now… not great.
Nia muttered under her breath as she shuffled along. Sometimes it was nonsense, hushed syllables that sounded like prayers, or like someone talking in their sleep. Other times Elias caught fragments: "He's waiting… just ahead… my husband… my love…" Her face was pale, shining with sweat, eyes fixed on a horizon no one else could see.
Darius was different. He walked light, blade balanced casually across his shoulder, stone in his other hand. He sharpened the edge as he moved, slow, steady strokes. His eyes flicked toward Elias from time to time, but not with fear. With recognition. A hunter watching another hunter, studying the angles of his prey.
They stopped at a half-collapsed pharmacy around midday.
The building leaned to one side, windows shattered, roof sagging like wet paper. A faded green cross still hung above the doorway, swinging slightly with each breath of wind. Inside, the smell hit them; a blend of dust, mildew, and the faint metallic tang of something long dead.
Light cut through holes in the ceiling, slanting across broken shelves. Most were stripped bare. Plastic pill bottles lay scattered across the floor, crushed underfoot. Dust rose in clouds as Jonah shoved his way inside, muttering.
"Empty?… Well, I expected nothing more," His voice was bitter.
Mara's voice was sharp. "Quiet."
But Jonah only spat on the floor. His eyes darted toward Elias, then away.
Hana crouched beside Elias near the back of the room, prying at a locked cabinet with a bent piece of metal. Her hands shook faintly, more from hunger than fear. Elias crouched beside her, pressing his shoulder against the cabinet's edge. Their hands almost brushed as they worked.
Almost.
Elias jerked back as though burned, shame washing over him. The smell of her skin, the warmth of her breath, it was a knife against the hunger gnawing his insides.
Hana blinked at him, confused, lips parting like she might speak. But then she swallowed the words again, shutting her mouth hard.
Jonah saw.
He stood in the doorway, watching. His voice was low, bitter, meant only for himself—yet loud enough that Elias heard.
"Monster feasts. We starve."
Elias's hands curled into fists. Jonah's gaze cut into him like knives, and for a moment Elias wondered if Jonah might rush him right then and there.
But Jonah only turned away, shoulders tense, muttering to himself as he kicked aside a bottle.
The cabinet lock finally gave, snapping with a sharp metallic crack. Inside—bandages yellowed with age, bottles of rubbing alcohol nearly empty, and a single strip of painkillers. Barely anything, but Mara snatched them up like treasure, slipping them into her pack.
"Let's move," she said. Her voice was tight, unyielding. "We're burning daylight."
No one argued.
They left the pharmacy behind.
By late afternoon, the path carried them through a ruined playground. Rusted swings groaned in the wind. A carousel sagged, paint peeled to gray. Tiny shoes lay scattered in the mud, stiff with age.
The air carried no birdsong, but Elias's sharpened senses caught faint echoes; the phantom laughter of children where there was none. His breath hitched. The others walked through without pause, but to Elias it felt… occupied.
They marched single file, and continued for hours more, shadows stretching long across the drowned city. The sky was painted in bruises; purple and orange smeared into a horizon of black smoke. For one fragile hour, it almost looked like peace.
Nia's voice broke it.
"He's waiting," she whispered, her eyes wide and fever-bright. She held her arms close to her chest as if cradling something unseen. "Just ahead. My husband. He's calling."
Her words sent a ripple of unease through the group. Nia's condition was clearly worsening.
Jonah sneered, muttering under his breath. "She's not wrong. He's right here—" his gaze snapped toward Elias "—wearing your skin."
Elias tensed. His heightened senses caught every word, missing nothing.
He kept his eyes low, fists clenched. The System hummed like a viper in his skull.
"Don't waste your breath denying it."
"Shut up," he muttered.
Jonah's head snapped around. "You better not be talking to me"
Elias didn't answer. "Enough!" Mara barked, whirling on both of them for the first time. Her gaze locked hard on Jonah. "You want to die shouting? Keep it up. Otherwise, walk."
Jonah snorted, but said nothing a reply.
For a brief moment, it seemed the world allowed them mercy.
The sun sank lower, red light slanting across wet streets, bathing everything in blood. The survivors slowed, glancing at one another. It was almost camp time. Almost safe.
Then the sound began.
It rolled up from beneath the cracked freeway they were crossing; a grinding, a rumble. Not the beat of wings, not the croak of crows, but something deeper. Bones grating against bones. Flesh twisting against itself. The city itself seemed to groan, as though tearing open a wound.
Nia gasped, her whole face alight. Tears streamed down her cheeks, her arms spread wide in ecstasy.
"That's him," she whispered. "That's him! He's here!"
She stepped forward.
"No!" Mara barked, but it was too late.
The thing burst from the shadows.
It was not a crow. Not even a flock. It was many, fused into one; an amalgam of wings and limbs and jagged beaks, dozens of half-formed heads shrieking in disharmony. Its body was a knot of twitching muscle and feathers, dragging itself forward with limbs that ended in claws too long, too sharp. Around it, dozens of regular crows swarmed like an escort, their ember eyes burning in unison.
Nia's arms opened wider. She smiled through her tears, whispering, "I knew you'd come—"
The fused beast hit her like a car.
There was no time to scream. Its mass of talons and beaks engulfed her, and her body snapped apart in an instant. The sound was sickening; a wet crunch, a tearing spray. Blood painted the concrete. Feathers stuck to crimson. For one horrific second her arm flailed upward, fingers reaching. Then it was gone, swallowed in the writhing mass.
The survivors broke.
Hana's scream tore through the dusk. Jonah staggered back, eyes wide with naked terror. Mara yanked Hana against her chest, dragging her away as the fused beast shrieked.
And Darius… Darius was almost unaffected.
Almost.
The ground shook again. Another fused monstrosity clawed free of rubble, wings dragging across the asphalt like broken sails. Its heads shrieked as one, a chorus of madness.
The first still writhed in the gore that had once been Nia, feathers slick with blood, shrieks splintering the dusk air.
The survivors scattered. Mara dragged Hana by the wrist, her jaw tight, eyes scanning for cover. Darius lingered at the edge of the chaos, his blade gleaming in one hand, his stance relaxed.
And Jonah—Jonah's breath came in ragged sobs, his face pale, his pupils blown wide with terror.
Elias stood his ground, feathers tearing it's way out of his arms with a sickening wet sound. Hunger and rage coiled in his chest, fighting to be unleashed.
Jonah saw it.
For a moment, he froze, eyes locked on Elias. The feathers. The blood oozing out of arms. The unnatural curve of his stance. The predator unveiled.
Something inside Jonah snapped.
His lips peeled back in a snarl, spit flying from his teeth. "You think you're one of us?" His voice was shrill, breaking. "You think we'll die for you?!"
Before Elias could answer, Jonah lunged.
His hands slammed into Elias's back, shoving with every ounce of desperation in his body. The push was clumsy, frantic, but Elias was already on the edge of the beast's reach.
The shove carried him straight into the swarm.
Wings engulfed him. Talons slashed. Beaks tore. The mass swallowed Elias in an instant, a storm of feathers and shrieks and blood. His scream ripped free, guttural, half-human, half-animal, before being smothered by the tide.
"Take him!" Jonah howled, his voice cracking into madness. "He's one of you! He's YOURS!"
The sight froze the others.
Hana thrashed in Mara's grip, screaming Elias's name until her throat went raw. Her small hands clawed at Mara's arm, trying to break free, tears streaking her dirt-stained face. "We can't leave him! We can't—"
"Move!" Mara barked, dragging her back, though her eyes, hardened and cold, lingered on the writhing mass where Elias had been.
Jonah staggered, his triumph sick with hysteria.
The second fused beast shrieked, wings thrashing. The freeway shuddered beneath its weight. The crows circling above dove in frenzy, their ember eyes raining down like fire.
Darius eyes tracked the spot where Elias had vanished beneath feathers and claws. He'd seen it before, in alleys and warzones, in men forced to bare their teeth or die. This was the moment the sheep either broke… or proved they were wolves.
Elias was gone.
Devoured.
The swarm roared, drowning his screams into silence.
Inside the horde, Elias's world was a furnace of pain.
Notes
Talons raked his flesh, beaks punctured his skin, wings beat against his skull until every bone screamed. His ribs cracked, breath tearing out in wet gurgles. Blood filled his mouth, hot and bitter.
And through the agony, the hunger rose.
It was no longer in his stomach. It was in his veins. In his bones. A fire spreading through every nerve, a voice screaming louder than the pain.
Eat.
Rip.
His back arched, spine convulsing, vertebrae cracking one by one as if claws pressed from the inside.
His fingers curled, nails splitting as black talons burst through.
Kill.
His eyes burned, vision flooding red.
Elias's scream warped into a snarl. His hands shot outward, talons carving through the beast that held him. Feathers exploded. Black blood sprayed hot across his face.
The swarm shrieked in panic as something new moved inside it. Something hungrier than them.
The fused monstrosity tried to crush him tighter, wings closing in a cage of muscle and bone.
But Elias tore it apart from within.
Talons ripped through its chest cavity, splitting it open like a rotten carcass. Blood; thick, tar-black, gushed over him. Screeching heads shrieked their last in discordant chorus as he pulled himself free of its collapsing body.
The swarm recoiled, wings scattering, beaks snapping in panic.
Elias stood among them, half-shifted, his body dripping in gore. His chest heaved, his skin streaked black with vein-lightning, his mouth filled with jagged teeth that hadn't been there before.
He snatched a crow mid-dive, claws closing around its writhing body. Without hesitation, he sank his teeth into its neck.
Black ichor spurted across his lips. He drank deeply, greedily, each swallow burning like molten fire, each gulp making his veins pulse brighter.
The bird convulsed once, then went limp. Elias dropped it, claws twitching, his breath ragged.
The System chimed, clear and cruel:
[ Shard Absorbed ]
[ Corruption: 5.1% → 7.8% ]
[ New Skill Unlocked: Carrion Claw ]
Elias staggered, snarling, but the System's voice purred over his ragged breathing.
"Yes… good. Do you feel it? Each bite makes you stronger. Each drop erases the lie of your humanity. More, Elias. More. They will kneel, or they will feed you."
The swarm descended again, dozens of ember-eyed crows shrieking, but Elias met them with claws and hunger.
One swipe shredded a trio from the air, their bodies torn into pulp. He leapt, impossibly fast, driving talons through another fused beast's throat. Black blood fountained. His jaw unhinged wider than it should have as he tore into it, drinking until his chest vibrated with its dying screams.
Feathers and gore rained across the freeway. The dusk sky glowed blood-red as if the world itself watched.
The abominations that had torn Nia apart were reduced to twitching heaps, wings spasming, broken beaks snapping soundlessly.
Elias stood over them, drenched in black blood, chest heaving, claws retracting slowly as if reluctant to let go. His face still twitched with the aftershock of transformation, jaw stiff, eyes glowing faintly even as the fire dimmed.
He dropped to his knees in the gore. His reflection stared back from a pool of blood, skin pale and clean, veins dark as ink, eyes still burning.
The System's whisper brushed the edges of his mind, velvet and triumphant.
"Perfect."
Elias lifted his head east, toward the path where the others had fled. Toward Jonah.
His lips curled back, voice guttural, torn between man and beast.
"Jonah."