Fe. His stomach churned with a nauseating mix of fear and helpless rage. The shimmering vortex above, now a monstrous maw of impossible colors and swirling shadow, had fully descended, its lower edges dissolving the very tops of nearby buildings, twisting steel and concrete into ethereal vapor. It wasn't just over their neighborhood; it was part of it, bleeding into the physical world.
The street below their window, once a vibrant artery of life, was now a nightmare canvas of terror. Mutated animals, grotesquely swollen beyond recognition, prowled the narrow lanes. A rat, now the size of a bulldog, its eyes burning with malevolent green light, gnawed viciously at a fallen lamppost, sparks showering as its fangs grated against metal. A flock of pigeons, their feathers replaced by obsidian scales, dove from a fire escape, their enlarged talons effortlessly snatching up a screaming pedestrian. The air itself throbbed with a dark, oppressive energy, the faint scent of ozone now thick and cloying.
"Eobard, what do we do?" Priscilla's voice was a fragile whisper, laced with a terror that clawed at Eobard's heart. She held Ethan and Derick tight, their small faces buried in her sides, trembling. Shawn, though pale and wide-eyed, stood a little apart, a broken broom handle clutched uselessly in his hand. The naive confidence of their evening meal had evaporated, replaced by a suffocating dread.
Eobard's gaze locked on his family. His brilliant mind, usually a fortress of logic, was a storm of panicked calculations. Run? Where? Hide? For how long? Every option seemed a dead end. The quiet, almost scholarly anxiety of the SATs felt like a childish game compared to this.
This was death, clawing at their door.
A crash from the floor below reverberated through their worn apartment building, followed by a chorus of panicked screams and a monstrous, triumphant roar. The building itself seemed to shudder, concrete dust raining from the ceiling. Something heavy slammed against their door, rattling its flimsy frame violently.
"They're coming!" Shawn choked out, his voice cracking with pure terror.
Eobard's breath hitched. He knew that sound. It was bigger, stronger than the rats or pigeons. The building's old door wouldn't hold. His mother and brothers, small, vulnerable. His mind screamed, a frantic, desperate plea for a way out, a solution, anything.
And then, it began.
A searing pain ignited in Eobard's stomach, radiating outwards like molten lead. He gasped, over, clutching his abdomen. It felt like his insides were twisting, churning, being ripped apart and reformed. A wave of nausea crashed over him, and he stumbled back, collapsing against the wall.
"Eobard! What's wrong?" Priscilla cried, letting go of her younger sons to rush to him, her hand instinctively reaching for his forehead.
But before she could touch him, a new sensation overwhelmed the pain – an unbearable pressure, as if his very veins were about to burst. His skin felt like it was shrinking, tightening, then simultaneously stretching and tearing. He let out a guttural groan, involuntary and alien, a sound that didn't feel like it belonged to him.
His vision blurred, red streaking at the edges. He could feel something moving beneath his skin, something coiling and expanding with terrifying force. His muscles spasmed, clenching with a power that wasn't his own. He heard a wet, squelching sound, and a hot, metallic liquid trickled from his nose, then his ears. It was blood. Old blood, being violently purged from his system. It poured out, soaking his worn shirt, steaming faintly in the oppressive air. He choked, a desperate cough ripping through his chest, forcing more of the dark, viscous fluid from his mouth.
Ethan whimpered, staring at his older brother, his eyes wide with a mixture of horror and profound confusion. Derick clung to Priscilla's leg, burying his face in her skirt. Shawn, however, stood frozen, watching Eobard with a dawning, terrifying realization.
As the old blood drained, a searing, invigorating heat flooded Eobard's veins, replacing the agonizing void. It was Qi, raw and potent, surging through newly forged pathways. His bones felt denser, his muscles tightened to steel cables, his senses sharpened to an unbearable degree. He could hear the frantic scuttling of a roach two floors below, smell the metallic tang of fear in the room, feel the tremors of the mutated beast downstairs through the very soles of his feet.
He was changing. Horrifically, painfully, and undeniably, he was changing. The academic, the genius, the ordinary boy, was being ripped apart, his humanity flayed away by a power that defied all logic. Fear, pure and consuming, warred with a terrifying, exhilarating surge of raw, untamed might. He was losing himself, but gaining something else, something ancient and primal.
The door burst inward with a sickening splintering sound. A grotesque, hulking figure filled the doorway – a mutated Rottweiler, its body distended to the size of a small bear, its fur patchy with weeping sores, and its teeth elongated into yellowish bone-crushers. Its eyes, milky white, locked onto the terrified huddle of Eobard's family. It snarled, a low, rumbling sound that promised agonizing death.
"Mama! Brothers!" The cry tore from Eobard's throat, but it wasn't his usual voice. It was deeper, rougher, laced with a bestial growl.
His vision snapped back into focus, sharper than ever before. The fear for himself vanished, utterly consumed by a burning, furious need to protect. This wasn't about grades or universities. This was about them. His family.
Without conscious thought, Eobard lunged. His limbs moved with an explosive power he'd never possessed. He felt the sickening crack of his own knuckles as they connected with the mutated beast's jaw. It was a purely instinctive, unrestrained blow, imbued with the nascent strength of his Blood Barbarian Body.
The mutated Rottweiler let out a surprised yelp, its massive head snapping back. Eobard followed up, a blur of motion. He seized the beast by its scabby neck, feeling the thick, ropey muscles tense under his grip. The raw power coursing through him was intoxicating, terrifying. He roared, a sound that tore from the depths of his being, a primal, guttural challenge that resonated with something ancient. He lifted the creature, its monstrous weight surprisingly light in his hands, and slammed it against the opposite wall with bone-shattering force.
The beast crumpled, whimpering, a broken thing. Eobard stood panting, his chest heaving, his body vibrating with residual power. His hands, still dripping with his own purged blood, felt alien, powerful. He looked at the fallen monster, then at his family, his eyes wide and wild. He was covered in blood, sweat, and dust, no longer the boy they knew.
Priscilla stared at him, her face a mask of conflicting emotions. Fear was there, undeniable, etched around her mouth. But beneath it, a profound relief began to bloom, and a glimmer of awe. Her son, her brilliant, skinny Eobard, had just effortlessly crushed a monster. Ethan and Derick, wide-eyed, slowly shuffled closer to their mother, their terror of the beast replaced by a confused apprehension of Eobard. Shawn, however, dropped the broom handle, his eyes fixed on Eobard with a mixture of shock and dawning admiration.
Beyond their apartment, the city itself was a crucible of transformation. A few blocks away, in a dimly lit convenience store, a young cashier, cornered by a mutated alley cat, let out a terrified scream. As the beast lunged, her hands instinctively shot forward, and a sudden, intense burst of fire Qi erupted from her palms, incinerating the creature in a flash of heat and light. She collapsed, panting, staring at her hands with disbelief and a deep, unsettling confusion. Her awakening was less violent, more accidental, a spark of potential ignited by extreme duress.
Near the Brooklyn Bridge, a grizzled construction worker, caught under a collapsing scaffold after a mutated crow dive-bombed its supports, found himself able to flex muscles he didn't know he had. With a primal grunt of desperation, he pushed upwards, feeling an incredible, impossible surge of strength that allowed him to lift the massive steel beam just enough for his trapped leg to slide free. He gasped, staring at his trembling hands, a bewildered mix of shock and raw adrenaline coursing through him. He was alive, but utterly changed.
On a rooftop garden in Midtown, a normally timid botanist, hiding from the escalating chaos below, watched in horror as a mutated vine, thick as a python, snaked its way up the building. As it neared her, a strange, almost instinctual urge gripped her. She instinctively reached out, and for a fleeting moment, the vine seemed to recoil, its growth faltering as a delicate, green Qi pulsed from her fingertips. A whisper of hope, fragile but undeniable, flickered through her terror. She had no idea what she had done, only that for a moment, she had exerted a strange dominance over the twisted life form.
Back in their apartment, the immediate danger had passed, but the world outside still roared. Eobard's body ached, a new kind of soreness that was both agonizing and oddly exhilarating. He was different. Fundamentally.
Priscilla, regaining her composure, pulled him into a fierce hug, tears finally streaming down her face. "My son," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion, "my beautiful, strong son." Her touch was comforting, grounding, a reminder of the humanity he still clung to.
Ethan and Derick, slowly approaching him, looked at him with uncertain eyes. Shawn, though, was practically vibrating with a tense energy. "Eobard," he breathed, "what... what was that? What happened to you?" There was a hint of wonder in his voice, overriding the initial terror.
Eobard looked from his bloodied hands to his family, then to the shattered doorway. The fear had subsided, replaced by a cold, hard resolve. His mind, still processing the raw data of his transformation, clicked into survival mode. He was stronger now. He was a Demon Slayer, even if he didn't know the term yet. And his purpose was crystal clear.
"We need to barricade this door," Eobard stated, his voice still rough, but firm. "And then we figure out what comes next." He looked out the window again, at the swirling realm, at the silent, predatory figures moving through the chaos below. The city was dying. Humanity was falling. But in his blood, in his newly awakened strength, he felt a flicker of something new. Not hope, not yet. But a fierce, burning determination. The test was over. The fight had just begun.