Carl was on his knees, choking on air that burned like ash. Each breath seared his throat raw, as though he were swallowing smoke from a dying fire. His arms hung like dead weight, his legs trembling stumps beneath him. He had long since lost track of how many screams had ripped themselves free—how many times his voice had shredded into hoarse silence, only to be dragged back into sound by fresh agony.
Fifty beasts consumed.
Fifty shadows writhing inside him like venom, gnawing at marrow and soul alike.
His body still stood, somehow, but his mind dangled by a single, fraying thread.
And that was when the void stirred.
The endless black shivered, as though something vast and ancient were shifting just beyond sight. Silence deepened, pressing against his eardrums until he thought they might burst.
Then—movement.
A figure stepped out from the formless dark.
It was tall. Humanoid. But unlike the beasts Carl had devoured, this one carried intent. Every stride landed with the weight of inevitability, heavy enough to warp the ground beneath it. The air buckled. Its aura did not simply spread—it invaded, pouring into Carl's lungs, filling him with pressure until every muscle screamed.
The atmosphere thickened into a crushing ocean. Each breath was a drowning.
Carl's eyes watered. His chest spasmed. His body refused him even the mercy of raising his head.
But something else could.
At his side, his shadow moved.
Carl's vision swam. His body was a trembling ruin, bones creaking beneath invisible force, skin drenched in cold sweat. He could not breathe. He could not move. His will was splintering, his consciousness unraveling thread by thread.
And yet, at his feet, the darkness stirred.
The shadow that had clung to him like a parasite now rose, stretching unnaturally, swelling as though feeding on the pressure that pinned him down. It rose like smoke drawn upward by unseen fire, coiling, thickening, taking shape.
The air recoiled.
The void trembled.
From the abyss, something tore itself free—his shadow, but no longer bound to him. No longer a reflection.
It climbed to its full height, massive, armored, a living monument carved of black fire and obsidian steel. Muscles rippled like storm clouds given form, veins of shadowlight coursing beneath skin that looked carved from night itself. A helm crowned its head, edges gleaming sharp enough to slice the gaze of any who dared look directly.
And where its face should have been, there was only void. A cruel mask etched in darkness, grinning with inhuman delight.
The ground shuddered beneath its emergence. A low, thunderous hum resonated in Carl's ears—like the roar of distant battlefields echoing across centuries.
The Shadow General had awakened.
Its aura erupted outward, a tidal wave of suffocating might that clashed against the oppressive force of the void-born figure. The collision was invisible, but Carl felt it in his marrow—the grind of two storms pressing against one another, devouring everything between.
> [50/50 Beasts Subdued.]
[Shadow General – Base Form Awakened.]
[Estimated Power: C-Rank Equivalent.]
[Warning: B-rank entity approaching.]
[Run!]
Through the haze of blood and exhaustion, Carl saw the notifications flicker before his eyes. But they felt distant, meaningless. His body craved only collapse. His mind begged for silence.
The void-born creature halted mere paces away. Its eyes glowed like molten cracks splitting stone, each embered gaze searing into Carl's skull. Its body rippled as though made of energy barely restrained, its outline wavering like a mirage of power. The void bent toward it, as though even nothingness itself submitted to its presence.
The Shadow General tilted its head, then rolled its shoulders with deliberate weight. The black fire of its form hissed and shifted.
"About time someone of worth showed up."
The words cut like steel drawn from a sheath, deep and resonant, carrying a mocking edge that reverberated through Carl's bones.
The air split with a sharp crackle. Both entities pressed against one another, their presences colliding in a war of weight and will. The B-rank lifted its clawed hand, talons gleaming with power that threatened to unmake the space around them.
The General mirrored the gesture. Its shadow-forged arm rippled, massive and terrible, bracing for the clash.
Carl could not move. Could not think. He was nothing but a spectator, trembling on the ground, while monsters prepared to tear reality itself apart.
And then—
> [0:00. Time's Up.]
The System's chime sliced through the void, clean and merciless.
Carl's body gave out.
The world lurched, his vision fracturing into shards of white and black, like glass smashing across his skull. Something hurled him—ripped him free from the confrontation. He was spat out, flung from unseen jaws, vomited by the void itself.
He spun, falling, tumbling through blinding dark until—
The spinning stopped.
He was at the door. His hand still gripped the handle. His chest heaved with ragged gasps, heart convulsing against his ribs.
It was as if nothing had happened.
But he knew better. He could still taste the shadows. He could still hear them clawing at his bones, whispering in the marrow.
The System chimed again. Its tone was mercilessly cheerful, a cruel mockery of what he had endured.
> [Rewards Granted.]
[Special Skill: Shadow Consumption (Basic).]
[New Subordinate: Shadow General.]
[Trait: Void Survivor.]
Carl staggered back, one hand clutching his chest. His skin was clean, unscarred. His mouth was free of blood. No wounds marked his body.
But the memory remained—the screams, the teeth, the suffocating flood of shadows tearing into him. Etched into his soul like scars that no eye could see.
His knees buckled. He gagged down bile, steadying himself against the wall.
And then the door swung inward.
Kaela stood there, framed in the mundane light of the room beyond. She froze as her eyes fell on him—his pale skin, his sweat-soaked hair, the tremor in his frame. Her brows lifted, lips parting.
"Carl?" she asked softly, tilting her head. Her voice was gentle, questioning, but beneath it lurked a note of concern. "What's wrong?"
He stared at her, words trapped in his throat. He couldn't answer. Not truthfully. Not without sounding like a lunatic who had clawed his way out of hell.
And even deeper—far beneath his shredded calm—Carl wasn't certain he had come back alone.