Elias bolted down the alleyway, the duffel bag slung over his shoulder and his hand clutched tightly to his chest. The faint glow of the mark on his palm pulsed faintly beneath his fingers, each flicker sending a fresh wave of panic coursing through him. His legs burned, his breaths came in sharp, uneven gasps, but he didn’t stop. He had to get home—had to find safety, though he wasn’t sure the word held any meaning anymore.

The city blurred around him, the streetlights streaking like comets as he sprinted through the quiet streets. His mind raced alongside his feet, the visions from the alley still vivid and raw. The swirling colors, the pain, the mark—they felt unreal, yet they lingered like a weight pressing down on his chest.

When he reached his apartment building, dread coiled in his stomach. The door to the building hung slightly ajar, the lock splintered and broken. He slowed, his pulse hammering in his ears as he approached cautiously. The lobby was dark, the faint hum of the elevator echoing eerily in the silence.

Elias swallowed hard and climbed the stairs, each step feeling heavier than the last. When he reached his floor, the sight of his own door made his stomach drop.

It was wide open.

The lock had been smashed clean through, the wood around it splintered and jagged. The hallway was deathly silent, the air thick with an unnatural stillness that made his skin crawl.

Elias hesitated on the threshold, his hand shaking as he pushed the door open further. The apartment was dark, save for the faint glow of the streetlights filtering through the windows. The furniture was overturned, drawers pulled out and emptied, papers and belongings strewn across the floor. His heart sank as he took in the wreckage.

"Hello?" he called out, his voice trembling.

The only answer was the creak of the floorboards behind him.

Elias spun around, but it was too late. A figure stepped out of the shadows, their movements unnaturally smooth and deliberate. They were tall and broad, dressed in the same sleek black suit as the agents he’d encountered before. Their face was obscured by a mask, and the angular "A" etched into its surface seemed to shimmer faintly in the dim light.

The man moved faster than Elias could react, slamming him against the wall with a force that knocked the air from his lungs. He gasped, his vision swimming as he clawed at the man’s arm, but the grip was unrelenting.

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The man spoke, his voice low and guttural, the words twisted and alien. It was a language Elias didn’t recognize, each syllable cutting through the air like shards of glass. He tried to respond, to ask who the man was, what he wanted, but his voice came out as a weak croak.

The man raised his other hand, his fingers curling into a fist. Elias’s heart raced as he realized what was about to happen. The man’s strength was inhuman, his presence suffocating. He struggled, but it was like fighting against a mountain.

As the fist descended toward his head, Elias braced himself, his thoughts a chaotic swirl of fear and disbelief. But the impact never came.

Instead, the man froze, his body trembling violently. The "A" on his mask glowed brighter, pulsating like a heartbeat. His fingers twitched, his movements jerky and unnatural as if something were pulling him apart from the inside.

Elias watched in stunned horror as the man’s body began to crystallize. Jagged, geometric shapes sprouted from his skin, spreading rapidly like ivy overtaking a wall. His limbs twisted and fractured, his torso collapsing into itself as the crystals consumed him. Within moments, he was unrecognizable—a grotesque sculpture of jagged, shimmering forms that glinted in the faint light.

The man—if he could still be called that—stood frozen in place, his outstretched arm now a chaotic mass of sharp, crystalline edges. The room was silent, save for Elias’s ragged breaths and the faint hum of energy that seemed to radiate from the sculpture.

Elias stumbled back, his legs giving out as he collapsed onto the floor. His chest heaved, his mind reeling as he tried to comprehend what he had just witnessed. His hand drifted to the mark on his palm, the faint glow now steady and unyielding.

"What the hell..." he whispered, his voice barely audible.

He didn’t have time to dwell on the thought. From the hallway came the sound of approaching footsteps—deliberate, measured, and far too familiar. Elias scrambled to his feet, his instincts screaming at him to run, but his body refused to cooperate.

The Oni stepped into the room.

His golden robes caught the faint light, the intricate designs shimmering as he moved. The demon mask tilted slightly as he regarded Elias, his posture calm but commanding.

"Another one," the Oni said softly, his voice carrying an edge of disdain as he glanced at the crystallized remains of the Axiom worker.

Elias pressed himself against the wall, his body trembling as he stared at the masked figure. "What’s happening to me?" he choked out. "What was that? Who are you?"

The Oni didn’t answer. Instead, he stepped closer, his movements fluid and unhurried. Elias tried to back away, but there was nowhere to go. The Oni raised a hand, his fingers brushing against Elias’s temple.

"I told you to trust me," he said quietly. "But you’ve seen too much tonight."

Before Elias could respond, the Oni struck. The blow wasn’t physical—it was a pulse of energy, a wave of force that rippled through his mind and body like a thunderclap. His vision blurred, his legs buckling as the room tilted and spun.

The last thing he saw before the darkness claimed him was the Oni’s mask, the hollow eyes staring back at him with an unreadable intensity.