The night had grown colder.
Devil's breath fogged the air as though the world itself exhaled dread with him. Rick's hand still clutched his arm, but it felt weightless, like nothing could anchor Devil anymore. The crimson eyes in the dark did not blink. They burned with an eternal hunger, staring deep into his soul.
"Run!" Sun's voice cracked, breaking through the paralysis.
Piu tugged at Devil's sleeve, her face pale with terror. But Devil didn't move. His gaze was locked, his body unwilling to turn away from the figure emerging from the shadows. The grin widened—jagged, wrong, inhuman.
And then—silence.
No wind. No rustle of trees. No sound of breath. The world froze, like time itself feared to move.
The figure tilted its head. The voice slid through the night again, softer, colder.
"You belong to me."
The words weren't just sound—they clawed at Devil's mind. They wrapped around his thoughts like chains, pulling him toward something darker, older than fear itself. Memories of his grandfather's voice whispered in broken fragments: Blood carries the debt… shadows carry the truth…
Rick shook him hard.
"Devil! Snap out of it!"
With a violent gasp, Devil's chest heaved. He stumbled backward, breaking the invisible chain that bound him. Sun grabbed Piu's hand, and together they bolted toward the thick trees beyond the house. Rick pulled Devil with all his strength until his legs found motion.
They ran.
Branches slapped against their faces. Roots clawed at their feet. Behind them, the sound followed—heavy, deliberate, echoing like footsteps that weren't entirely bound to earth.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Each step was closer, though when Devil glanced back, the figure was nowhere to be seen. Only shadows shifting unnaturally, bending, stretching toward them.
Piu screamed, "It's chasing us!"
Rick gritted his teeth. "Just keep running!"
The forest seemed endless, every tree the same, every shadow whispering their names. Whispers slithered through the branches, curling into their ears.
"Devil… come back…"
"Sun… your light will fade…"
"Rick… your strength will break…"
"Piu… your voice will silence…"
The air itself had turned against them. The whispers weren't just threats—they were promises.
Finally, they burst into a clearing. The moonlight poured down through a ragged sky, silver and pale. For the first time, they could breathe—but it didn't last long.
Because in the center of the clearing stood something impossible.
A stone altar. Ancient. Weather-worn. Symbols etched into its surface glowed faintly red, pulsing like veins beneath skin. Around it, the earth was charred, as though fire had licked the ground for centuries.
Devil froze. His blood ran cold. He had seen this before.
Not here, not in reality—but in dreams. Night after night.
Piu clutched Sun's arm. "What… what is this place?"
Rick's eyes narrowed. "Devil. You knew."
Devil's throat tightened. His grandfather's words came rushing back in cruel fragments, whispers of warnings he never understood—until now.
"My family…" Devil's voice was hoarse, trembling. "This altar… it's tied to us. To me. That thing in the house… it's connected."
The ground trembled beneath them. The glowing veins on the stone pulsed faster, brighter, like a heart accelerating toward eruption.
Then—BOOM!
The altar cracked open. From within the stone, black smoke erupted, swirling into the night sky like a thousand screaming voices released at once. The forest shuddered. Trees bent as if bowing to something ancient rising from the altar.
The smoke twisted, contorted, and formed a shape. Not solid, not whole—yet horrifyingly alive. Crimson eyes opened within the haze, wide and unblinking.
The voice that followed was no longer a whisper. It was a roar that shook the marrow of their bones:
"YOU ARE MINE!"
The four stumbled back, shielding their faces from the blinding red glow. Devil's body convulsed, his veins burning with heat, his mind drowning in echoes of the voice.
Rick tried to grab him again—but this time, Devil didn't feel his touch. His body was no longer his own. His feet dragged toward the altar, step by step, as if commanded.
Sun shouted, "Devil! Fight it!"
But Devil's eyes had changed.
They glowed—crimson.
And in that moment, everyone knew—
This was no longer just a haunting.
It was a claiming.
---
The night was unnaturally still, as though the world itself was holding its breath.
Shadows curled across the stone walls, shifting like living creatures, responding to a presence that had finally awakened after centuries of slumber. The Devil stood at the center of that silence, his figure cloaked in an aura darker than the midnight sky.
For days, he had resisted. He told himself he could remain untouched, that the whispers in his head were merely illusions, fragments of a forgotten nightmare. But now, as the moonlight bled across his skin, there was no denying it—something inside him had changed.
The darkness had not only answered his call; it had recognized him.
A pulse echoed through the chamber, not of life, but of power—ancient, corrupted, and intoxicating. His veins glowed faintly, as though shadows themselves were coursing through his blood, replacing what little humanity still lingered. He clenched his fists, nails biting deep into his palms, yet he felt no pain. Instead, he felt strength. Raw. Unrelenting. Dangerous.
The ground trembled beneath his feet. Stones cracked. The air grew heavy, suffocating, as if the entire world feared what it was about to witness. His reflection in the shattered glass did not show a man anymore—it showed an entity. Eyes burning with an abyssal fire, skin traced with lines that seemed carved by the void itself.
He staggered, fighting it, his breath sharp and uneven.
"No… I am still in control," he whispered to himself, but even his own voice sounded alien, laced with a low growl that was not his own.
The whispers returned, louder this time, swirling all around him.
"You were never meant to escape us… You were born from us… You belong to us."
A scream tore through his throat, echoing against the chamber walls, shaking dust from the ceiling. Darkness erupted outward, spiraling like a storm, swallowing the dim light of the torches. For a fleeting moment, everything was silent again—until the shadows wrapped around his arms like shackles of loyalty, chains that did not bind but empowered.
The Devil fell to his knees, clutching his head, as visions of fire, chaos, and endless despair flooded his mind. He saw kingdoms crumbling, oceans turning black, skies bleeding red—and at the heart of it all, he saw himself, standing as both conqueror and destroyer.
His body trembled. His mind fractured. But his soul… his soul surrendered.
When he raised his head again, the transformation was undeniable. The man who once doubted, once feared, once resisted—was gone. In his place stood something else. Something vast. Something terrifying.
The connection was complete.
And with it, came a smile—cold, sharp, and merciless.
Somewhere far away, the wind howled, carrying with it the cries of those who would soon realize what had been unleashed.
The Devil had begun to change.
And his bond with the darkness… could never again be denied.
To be continued…