The darkness no longer unsettled him. Its embrace became a sense of comfort in the extratemporality of the hell he was trapped in. It was no longer unfamiliar. It had become home.

Leonard moved through the jagged terrain like a ghost, his footsteps silent, his grip firm on the blade that had already claimed so many monstrosities. His body had changed. Every fight had sharpened him—his instincts, his movements, his understanding of this world. He no longer hesitated; hesitation meant death.

The hunger gnawed at him, but it no longer felt like a weakness. It was a tool. A drive that kept him moving, hunting, killing, and feeding.

The first kill of the night came quickly. A creature lurked between the rock formations, its elongated body coiling unnaturally as it sniffed the air. Leonard didn't give it a chance to react. He lunged, blade flashing in the eerie glow of the landscape. The creature shrieked as steel tore through sinew, black ichor splattering across the ground. It barely had time to struggle before Leonard twisted the blade and tore it free, sending chunks of flesh and viscera across the bloodstained earth.

He kneeled, placing a hand over the still-quivering body. The orb rose from its remains, pulsating with unnatural light. He grasped it, letting its energy surge through him. His wounds sealed. His muscles strengthened. His vision sharpened. He could feel the changes happening faster now, his body consuming and adapting at an accelerated rate.

He was evolving.

Then came the others.

A pack.

Eyes flickering in the distance, closing in.

Leonard exhaled. His fingers twitched in anticipation. Let them come.

The first beast lunged, its jaw unhinging wider than any natural creature’s should. Leonard twisted to the side, planting his foot firmly into its ribcage, sending it skidding backward. Before it could recover, he leapt forward and drove his blade straight through its skull.

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Another came from the left—Leonard barely had time to react before its claws ripped through his side. He gritted his teeth, ignoring the pain, and grabbed its elongated arm, twisting it until bone cracked and tore free from the socket. The creature screeched, but he was already upon it, forcing the jagged end of its own limb into its throat.

The rest of the pack hesitated.

Leonard grinned, teeth bared in something that was no longer entirely human.

The slaughter continued.

Blood, viscera, and broken bodies littered the ground around him. The stench of death clung to his skin, thick and suffocating. He stood among them, panting, his once-white shirt now dyed in the grotesque hues of the monsters he had butchered. The hunger called to him again, but it was different now. It wasn't just about feeding.

It was about power.

Leonard kneeled, dipping his fingers into the black ichor pooling around him. He brought it to his lips.

And he devoured.

The hunger intensified. The orbs he consumed pulsed stronger, their effects lasting longer. His movements became effortless, his reaction time near instantaneous. He wasn’t just adapting anymore—he was ascending.

The world around him twisted, whispering voices crawling at the edge of his mind. Shadows stretched unnaturally, watching him with hollow, pulsating eyes. The wind carried distant howls, mourning the abominations he had slain.

Days blurred together in a relentless bloodbath. He didn’t sleep; he didn’t need to. He became a wraith, stalking through the abyss, unseen, unstoppable. The creatures that once made him struggle were now cut down with ease. He ripped them apart with his bare hands when his blade wasn’t enough. He learned how to use their weapons, crafting spears from their bones, armor from their hides.

And as he continued, his reflection in the pools of black ichor became unrecognizable. His face had lost its weariness, his body reverting to its peak—and beyond. The more he consumed, the less human he became...or was he human to begin with?