I sprinted through the twisted alleys of my village, my breath coming in sharp bursts.

The creature I was chasing—a malicious and grotesque shadow—darted ahead, its form barely visible against the night. This was not the Arelle I had grown up in. It was a village transformed into a nightmare, a playground for the monsters that had emerged from the torn sky.

My hand tightened around the hilt of my dagger, a blade that had long since become an extension of myself. Along its razor-sharpened edge were runes—ones I'd carved myself under Grandmother's strict and unyielding direction. Her training resonated in my mind out here, guiding each movement, each decision. Through countless hours of preparation and reinforcement, she had pressed into me the importance of getting everything just so, double checking to ensure all went as I needed it to—and adapting when it didn't. Because if you couldn't adapt, you were dead.

I leaped over a fallen beam, the remnants of someone's home now just detritus in this new world we were forced to inhabit.

As the creature turned down a narrow path leading to the cliffs, I followed relentlessly. I could hear the roar of the sea below, a constant reminder of the night the world changed. Sensing it was cornered, the creature spun around, its eyes gleaming with feral light. Then, it seemed to disappear as it pressed itself into the ground and was gone.

"Dammit!" I hissed, looking around.

There was nothing for it. I doubled back and clambered down the cliff until I was back into the town proper. The beast couldn't have gone far—its abilities didn't work like that. I padded through destroyed roads and cracked alleyways, my eyes constantly searching.

"Where did you go, bastard?" I muttered.

Spotting a low-hanging eave, I jumped up, caught the edge with my fingertips, and pulled myself up to the roof. I couldn't let this vile monster escape—not tonight. I raced to the roof's edge and looked down below on the other side. There was nothing out of the ord—there! I spotted the creature sliding out of the wall of a building across the way. But it seemed to see me, too, because it raced away, its tendrils wriggling in the air.

I sighed.

I cursed.

Then I steeled myself and acted.

Leaping from rooftop to rooftop, I chased the shadowy figure darting through the desolate streets of the village's skeletal remains.

I could almost taste the creature's fear, which gave me heart. I drew my finger in the air and concentrated on the Chant of Knowledge. The now-familiar, mildly burning sensation of Mantra—as it was called—traveled along my spine and settled around my eyes as I finished. Information filled my vision.

SLUG!

TYPE: Ghoul!

LEVEL: 4!

I'd still not gotten fully used to this sort of thing—though it was remarkably helpful when trying to discern intimate detail. I'd already known it was a Ghoul type, and at level 4, it was considered one of the lesser slugs that now haunted our nights—but quick and deadly all the same. As it had earlier, Ghoul-type slugs could move through solid inanimate objects as long as they weren't thicker than a few feet—which meant most of the buildings here would become fair game. Knowing what it could do, I'd need to deal with it quickly.

The Ghoul's appearance was nightmarish—mottled skin of obsidian and crimson—its body a macabre imitation of a slug, but with tendrils and countless tiny arms ending in human-like hands. These hands propelled it rapidly along, a disturbing sight that I'd long been numbed to due to the frequency of such horrors.

Ahead, it faltered as it attempted to vault over debris blocking the road. I wasn't sure why it didn't just phase through the barrier, and then I remembered the cool-down period. Ghoul-types needed at least two minutes before they could phase again. It would oscillate depending on their strength, but this one was lower level, so it would likely be very close to a couple of minutes.

Perfect.

As I closed in, the slug turned, its many eyes glinting in the moonlight. It trembled, sensing the end was near.

That's right, you demon, I thought. I'm sending you back to hell.

My limbs tensed as I prepared to strike down this abomination of the night. I closed in, dagger ready, the runes along the blade glowing faintly. This was it, the moment of truth. It was the fleeting juncture I had learned to live within—the half-second before the strike where time seemed to stretch.

With a swift, fluid motion, I leaped, bringing down my weapon in a shining arc. The Ghoul screeched as my blade found its mark—a sound that tore through the night. The moment the dagger's edge touched the creature's dark flesh, I activated its key feature: Sever. The runes pulsed, and brilliant light flashed briefly as the power stored in those handcrafted symbols broke the tether between beast and plane.

It was over in seconds, the slug dissolving into a stinking cloud of oily black-and-red mist, but the hunt was far from done. More would come. They always did. But I'd be ready for them, prepared to protect what remained of my world just as I'd done every single day for the last year.

I looked down, the glimmer of an orb on the ground catching my eye. Not everything dispersed when the slugs were killed—often, they left behind objects like these: slug stones. I crouched to pick up the orb, its faint glow pulsing softly in my palm. Slug stones were a bizarre yet now-commonplace remnant of battles. Not all slugs left them behind, but when they did, these stones became a part of our survival—as currency, as a component in Grandmother's cryptic rituals, and even as a source of power for the few pieces of technology we had salvaged from the 'other side.'

In addition to these stones, slugs sometimes left behind other materials—bizarre ingredients that had no place in the old world but were invaluable in ours. Some were used in healing salves, others as components in protective wards. The economy of Arelle had shifted and adapted around these remnants. It was strange, trading in the essence of our nightmares, yet it was our reality now.

As I stood, tucking the stone into my sack, I reflected on how much had changed. However, that lasted mere moments as more screeches echoed down the alley, a chilling symphony of impending doom.

I straightened up, my muscles aching but ready. Shadows moved from down the throughway, converging on me, their forms awful, bulbous silhouettes against the dimming night.

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I sighed.

"...Here we go again," I groaned.

Then, without any further hesitation, I charged. My dagger was a blur in my hands. Soon, the clash of metal against dark flesh filled the air, a dance of death under the waning moon.

—

Pushing through the dense forest, the first light of dawn painting the world in muted golds and grays, I tread softly, another long night of battles lingering in my limbs. Once a sanctuary, these trees had become twisted—gnarled and wrenched by the transformation.

In a clearing shrouded in morning mist, I stumbled upon them—seven creatures I had never seen before. They were slugs, I was sure, yet not quite. This was a feat unto itself because, now a year into this scenario, I believed I'd encountered every type of slug—the dispersing Ghouls, the colossal Leviathan, the Fades, the Yeti—these and more were known to me. But whatever these were…they were new.

Their skin was translucent, veins glowing with ghostly blues and greens in the pre-dawn light. Larger than the Ghoul-types I'd been fighting all evening, they moved with a slow, haunting grace, almost beautiful in their eeriness. I had to wonder if they were indeed from the same monstrous phylum. They resembled those I was used to in that they had multiple arms, elongated bodies, and numerous eyes…but there was absolutely a difference. Not just physically, for that was evident by the glow, but also in their manner.

For one, they were not scurrying to avoid the touch of sunlight and, in fact, seemed largely unbothered by it. They were clustered together, not fighting one another—another strange reaction. It was already understood that slugs had difficulty being near one another without shedding blood—or fighting over blood already shed. So, why were these ones acting so strangely? It was almost as if they were protecting something.

I watched cautiously, hidden in the shadows, and I found myself in awe. This landscape, ever-changing since the sky had torn, never ceased to reveal its dark wonders. I needed to know more about them—as Grandmother Yarissa had drilled into me, engaging these devils without understanding what they were was unwise. So, I used the Chant of Knowledge again, quietly mouthing the words under my breath so as to not be heard by the slugs. Once more, my eyes were surrounded by the sting of my Mantra, and I peered at the closest one to me.

SLUG!

TYPE: Infernus!

My confusion redoubled.

There's no level listed?

That had never happened before. Either the Chant hadn't worked properly—which was possible due to how I'd used it—or something else was going on here. Either way, not knowing how strong these…Infernus slugs were, made it difficult to effectively attack them. I'd likely have to wait and watch, perhaps sneak upon them when they made their nest.

Before anything else, however, I had to attempt to see better what they'd been doing.

Hidden among the twisted branches, I crawled, my breath held tight, until I found a better vantage. As I settled into my new roost, I could see more clearly: the Infernus slugs congregated around some kind of glowing rune etched into the earth and blades of grass like a scar made of light.

Then, the slugs began to writhe—to undulate, as if performing some macabre dance. One by one, they convulsed, their bodies heaving in grotesque rhythms. Then they bulged, ballooning as the area I knew to be their maws expanded, allowing the passage of something large from within each of their innards. I had to hold back my own bile as they appeared to begin a purge, witnessing the wet shapes they choked upon in urgent frenzy. What emerged from them was nightmarish—shapes, human in form but shrouded in a glistening membrane, reminiscent of the unborn fetuses I'd seen in some of the medical books in Grandmother's library. My heart skipped as recognition dawned; some of these were villagers! They were people I knew, now entombed in this eerie cocoon.

A surge of dread and anger rippled through me, and I gripped my dagger tight. These monsters had killed many people in the last year—but something about this was altogether much more despicable to me.

I nearly let my anger overtake me then and there to sprint amongst their midst and slice my way through them—lack of knowledge be damned.

Yet… I dared not move. There was no value in letting myself to the mercy of my rage. 'Anger is a lubricant, not a cudgel,' Grandmother had said to me once. As such, if I was remembering those words now, I knew I needed to be careful.

Then, the rune beneath the pile of bodies began to pulse, a growing light that seemed to breathe life, or perhaps something else entirely, into the figures. The slugs, their grim task completed, retreated into the shadows, leaving this glowing tableau of horror and wonder behind.

As the light enveloped the figures, my mind raced. What was this ritual? What would happen when the light faded?

The intense glow from the rune escalated, bathing the clearing in an ethereal light that felt both sinister and mesmerizing. A sense of impending doom gripped me as the ground began to tremble beneath my feet. The bodies in the sacs started to jerk, writhing now.

This can't be happening! Those poor people!

From within the heart of this luminous maelstrom, something stirred, something malevolent and powerful. Suddenly, the villagers—people I had known all my life, cried out, their muffled screams sending a spike of panic rippling through me.

I have to help them!

I dashed forward, dagger out, ready to slice open the membrane prisons keeping my fellow villagers from escaping. It was clear they were in pain, and if I could only—

BOOM!

A colossal beast, a fusion of darkness and fire, its eyes a blazing inferno, exploded out of the ground where the rune had been. The sheer force of its instant arrival sent me hurtling backward, crashing into the underbrush.

Dazed, I fought to regain my senses. This was no ordinary slug; it was a creature of nightmares, a behemoth from the darkest depths of hell. A Leviathan.

Clutching my dagger, the runes etched upon its blade flickering intensely in response to the monstrous presence, I pushed myself to stand. The beast roared, a primal declaration of its dominion. I knew then this might not be a fight I would survive.

Its flaming eyes settled on me, and it snorted, black smoke curling away from its snout. Then, it lowered its head at me.

It's going to attack!

As the beast charged, its massive form eclipsing the dawn's early light, a strange feeling settled over me. It was the realization that this might very well be my final stand. I braced myself, ready to face the end with defiance.

But then, in a blur of motion, a figure descended from the trees to land in front of me.

"Huh?" I wondered aloud, barely able to make the noise before the figure acted. With a mere gesture, their hand collided with flesh and sent the beast reeling.

"Not this—" I began, but the crash of the Leviathan-type slug smashing through trees at high speed dispersed my words.

I recognized the figure—Grandmother Yarissa, standing there with an expression of annoyance rather than fatigue.

"Can't even drink my tea in peace," she remarked dryly, casting a critical eye and tsking. "How I ever raised such a weak-willed grandson, I'll never know."

"W—weak-willed?" I wondered, horrified to see her here—but only because of what this meant for me after. This is going to be bad…

"If you spent more time training than collecting your little baubles, boy, I might not have to step in so frequently."

"Gra—grandmother…" I said, but I couldn't find the words to say anything else.

"Blech," she said, wrinkling her nose as she turned to face me fully. "This is the last time I'm sticking my neck out for you. Next time, you'll have to fight your own battles."

I could see the beast behind her, recovering from the initial assault as it picked itself from the ground, shaking its gigantic head clear of the apparent stupefying assault it had just endured.

"Grand—" I started, but she cut me off.

"Not today," she said dismissively. "You're going to be training double after I take care of this."

I groaned.

The Leviathan roared again, its rage palpable. It stood fully and then charged.

"Behind y—!" I cried, but Grandmother sighed. Undaunted, she turned and faced the monstrosity. A magical blade materialized with a flick of her wrist, shimmering with an otherworldly power.

Then, hefting her blade, she lunged towards the beast.