The blood monster awoke in a pool of crimson. Its body was a mass of malleable flesh and sharp claws, shifting and writhing, and its claws extended and retracted like liquid blades, growing more solid each second as it took its first breaths. It felt a surge of primal hunger, an instinct to hunt, kill, grow, and find the most suitable prey for its master.
But who was its master? It wondered.
It was not alone; around it, other monsters of flesh and blood stirred, and soon the monster found its place within the pack.
Each member of the pack raised their heads in alarm as they all heard a voice, overwhelmingly audible, that seemed to come from within and without, stemming from a speck of power forming within them. The voice connected them with a beacon of something powerful, a distant point of overwhelming energy that called to the pack, shining like a second sun in the distance and promising something more.
The voice also told them to hunt and grow in number, injecting images in the pack heads of a peculiar prey that walked on two legs and carried metal claws called "swords". Each member instinctively sensed that consuming such prey would bring about an exceptional evolution.
The monster's thoughts were a chaotic swirl of instincts and sensations. It followed the pack, but its mind was divided, split by its growing desire to find and consume one of the bipedal, sword-carrying prey species.
The pack moved as one and quickly became a seamless unit of death. Beasts fell beneath their claws, their blood adding to the thick mire that coated the monster's skin. With each kill, it felt a spark of growth, as each beast it consumed added to the spirit beast core slowly forming within it. It was a sensation both intoxicating and bewildering, driving it to seek more, to consume more.
Strange images and panels filled the monster's vision with each kill, symbols it couldn't understand. The monster sensed they carried words of power, and yet it was not capable of speech. It waved the panels and symbols away and continued to head for the beacon.
The voice in its head grew louder, more persistent. "Hunt and return," it said, a command it could not ignore. The hunt continued, the pack's relentless pursuit of beasts a backdrop to the monster's inner turmoil. With each kill, it grew stronger, closer to uncovering the truth of its existence. The beacon called to it, a promise of destiny and purpose. It did not know what awaited it at the journey’s end, but it felt a deep, unshakable conviction that it would find what it sought.
And so, it hunted.
The beacon the blood monster sensed became clearer and brighter. The voice in its head grew stronger, more insistent. Soon it was a guiding light in the darkness of its existence. It did not understand what the beacon was or why it felt compelled to follow it, but the need was undeniable. It was as if the beacon held the answers to the questions it did not yet know how to ask.
Soon its pack encountered a beast unlike any other. This creature was massive, its hide thick and impenetrable, its eyes burning with a burning fire that reminded each member of the pack of the beacon, causing them to hesitate. A guttural growl rumbled from the beast beside it. Instinctively, the monster's claws elongated, sharp and ready.
The battle was fierce, the pack's claws slicing through the air in a deadly display. As the monster fought, the fractured memories of the being it had usurped, 'Alex', surged to the forefront of its mind, a life it could not fully understand but felt in every fibre of its being. A crack began to form in the outer growths of its beast core, and at the instant the crack formed, the distant beacon that guided the blood creatures flared.
[System Message: Host designated 'Alex Ironwood' resisting transformation. Host Ego designated 'Eclipse' resisting familiar tether. Internal conflict immenent]
"Impossible... A consumed consciousness appears to be fighting back, and two of them at that?"
The words of the beacon rocked its very being. The monster felt the entire focus of the beacon bearing down on it and the pack that surrounded it. It shuddered under the attention of what it felt to be its creator. The voice of the beacon caused them to battle harder, and just a little deadlier, each member fighting with an almost religious fervour, each creature desperate to please the beacon that guided them.
The final blow came with a bone-shaking roar, the large and powerful prey collapsing in a heap of blood and flesh. The monster stood over its prey, panting, its body thrumming with the energy of the kill. The pack moved on, but the monster lingered for a moment, staring at the fallen spirit beast. The memories of the prey it had been formed from- a being the stolen memories called 'Alex'- were clearer now, the shadowy figure more distinct. The blood creature did not know what an 'Imperial' was, but it felt a deep, inexplicable hunger for the bipedal figure in its memories. Consuming such an exceptionally powerful prey would bring an equally exceptional evolution, it was certain of that now. More words came to it from Alex's 'system', but it did not care for the tools of prey and waved them away. It felt the spirit beast core within it pulse and grow, a surge of power that was almost overwhelming. But with the power came a moment of clarity—a fleeting glimpse of understanding that vanished as quickly as it came. The outer layers of its core cracked further, a spiderweb of resistance that weakened its attunement to the beacon.
"You. come to me. The rest of you, bring them to me and do not allow either of them to die."
The voice of the beacon roared in each member of the pack's spirit cores, and at its behest, the monster moved with purpose, driven by a being much greater than itself. Around it, others of its kind moved with a similar purpose, a pack of nightmares born of flesh and blood. They communicated through guttural sounds, gestures, and a combined understanding of the signal that bound them together as they constantly raced for their goal.
Until abruptly, the monster and its pack found themselves at the edge of a vast chasm, the beacon pulsating from leagues within. The voice in the creature's head was a roar now, filling the blood-monster-with-stolen-memories-of-Alex with both fear and anticipation. The bloody creature stood at the brink of the chasm, sensing the beacon of its master—the Little Demon of Winding Bloods— deep within the chasm's depths as its thought's blazed in maelstrom of confusion and determination.
The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
Without hesitation, it leapt into the abyss.
***
×××
Alex
[System Message: Warning - Host integrity compromised - Transformation detected, Familiar tether detected]
[...]
[Skill ‘Soul Sword’ has consumed enchanted weapon 'Eclipse' - Error - Ego sword detected]
[Creating Consciousness Subsumption Realm...]
[Ego Assimilating...]
[Dynamic Quest - ‘Inner Ego’: You have used the Mythic Rank class skill 'Sword Soul' to consume an enchanted sword ego, 'Eclipse'. As the necessary skill mastery has not been met, the ego must be subjugated in order to achieve assimilation. An opportunity to increase the skill's mastery presents itself to you - Subjugate the sword Ego 'Eclipse', to increase the skill's mastery and gain permanent access to the blade's ego and related abilities. Failure to subjugate will result in permanent possession]
[Enhanced Reward:
Soulbound Weapon 'Eclipse', Soulbound Sword Ego 'Eclipse', D Ranked skill 'Absolution', D Ranked skill 'Bloodforged', enhanced resistance to familiar transformation, usurpation of familiar tether, repossession of host body
Failure Penalty:
Loss of sword ego 'Eclipse', Permanent Loss of host body, Ego possession and transformation into a 1. Manifestation of Eclipse 2. Familiar of designation 'Unknown', Loss of will.]
The old man awoke to find himself standing in an endless void of blood and flesh, where the air held a metallic taste. He didn't know how he got there.
In fact, he couldn't remember much of anything, not even his name.
Though his muscles felt strong, his skin felt wrinkled and grey, hanging loosely over his bones. His body ached and his every step was an introduction to old injuries. Yet he had no memory of his past, his arrival, or even his birth, only the raw sensation of pain and confusion accompanied his thoughts.
A shadow materialized before him, coalescing into a towering figure. As it solidified, a monstrous metallic horned being stood there. A being of black metal with a face he saw resembling the reflection of his own, only younger and infinitely more demonic. It bore a third eye atop its forehead that surveyed the surroundings as its lower eyes remained fixed on him. The demon's form was jagged and metallic with two barbed horns that reached for the sky and skin a sleek black metal filled with patterns that shone yet reflecting nothing. Its eyes, three, were deep voids that burned crimson, and its mouth a line of serrated teeth. Its hands bore long claws, sharp and glinting, and a sword, obsidian in colour yet metallic in nature, was bound and fused with its flesh, jutting out from its right hand.
The old man studied the demon's tail, a long, thick, and bladed thing that dragged across the ground, leaving gouges in the earth beneath as it regarded him curiously.
The man felt a tremor in his chest, an instinctive recognition of danger and the primal urge to act. His hands, both leathery and scarred, flexed instinctively and reached for something that wasn't there. It's not moving, it's just standing there, watching me... maybe it wants something? Or maybe it's waiting for something? He raised his fists and angled his feet, surprised by the familiarity of the defensive stance. He tried to speak with a voice that felt rough and cracked, "What do you want?" The demonic blade given form paused, its head tilting, a low grinding of metal emanating from its chest. Then it shifted ever so slightly and its tail sliced through the air with a metallic screech. The old man dodged, a movement born of reflex rather than thought. He rolled and once again found himself reaching for something. The lack of -whatever it was- left him with a feeling of absence and a small hollowness that gnawed at him, a void more grating than the darkness before him.
He looked down at his hands, gnarled and weak, unfit for combat. Yet, something within him stirred, a sense of belonging.
Why am I here? He wondered. Who am I? Why am I even doing this?
Then, without warning, it lunged. The old man moved, fluidly dodging the swipe of claws, countering with a swift punch that connected with the creature's jaw. The blow broke his wrist, the beast's flesh beyond what a mere human could injure. But the man did not stop. After all, pain was just the body's way of registering damage, "and pain is just information," the old man muttered, shocked at the first memory that came to him unbidden, a mantra of combat. Scars mapped across his skin suggested a history of violence, though without context, they bore no meaning.
Who am I without my memories? Or a past to anchor me? Do I even exist without them?
His thoughts drifted to the possibility that identity could be more than just a collection of memories. Perhaps it was the narrative one constructed from those experiences. Yet, without memories, what narrative could he know himself by? The old man realized that in the absence of a coherent narrative, he was left to define himself through his actions in the present. Each swing of his fist, each decision made in the heat of battle, became the building blocks of his current existence.
The demon snarled, its bladed tail whipping around with deadly force. The old man ducked under the tail, his eyes locked onto the black sword at its end. It pulled at him, a magnetic force that felt like destiny.
The demon's welded sword arced down. The old man sidestepped, catching the demon's wrist and elbow, using the creature's momentum to sever the extended tail blade he had dodged earlier. The demon staggered back, crouching low, a guttural screeching roar escaping its maw as metal ground against metal within its chest and the metallic stump at the end of its tail began to regrow, absorbing the surrounding blood to fuel the process. The old man grasped the hilt of the severed tail-blade at his feet, the cold weight of the strangely familiar bladed weapon settling in his hand.
For a moment, the void seemed less oppressive, and the surrounding blood and flesh less invasive.
The two fought a strange waltz, both combatants moving with practised expertise and martial prowess, the old man’s movements precise, the demon’s savage and beastly.
The two eviscerated the land in the process of their battle and soon the destruction they caused attracted a third entity, one that sprouted from the very land itself.
[System Message: Warning - Host integrity compromised - A third foreign ego has been detected]
[Skill ‘Soul Sword’ incapable of Assimilating third foreign ego. Cause: Non-Sword ego]
[System Message: Warning - Third foreign ego designated 'level 0̴̰͈͖̊͋0̴͎̟̣̈́̐0̵̠͉̥̔̊̈0̴̰͈͖̊͋0̴͎̟̣̈́̐ Blood Familiar (Qi Gathering: First stage) is invading the Consciousness Subsumption realm. User caution is advised due to the risk of host ego/consciousness permanent consumption.]
The blood-soaked earth trembled as the ground split open, revealing a widening chasm filled with flesh and bone. Emerging from the depths was a figure of sinew and muscle, glistening with a wet, crimson sheen. Hardened blood tipped with sharp bones jutted out to create the horrifying visage of an unnatural predator.
One intent on consuming both man and Eclipse to complete its transformation.