Author Note
Sorry for the later-than-usual upload! I got busy working on a new novel I've got cooking. If you like this story, I'm pretty sure that one will be a banger too, so I might shamelessly promote it tomorrow. 😂
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"Mmm!!! MMM!"
The muffled screams continued, breaking into cries of agony. Metal sliced repeatedly through the thug's chest—one, two, three, four, five.
"AAAAAA!"
A sharp, burning pain tore through him again and again.
Qiren stabbed nonstop—one arm locking the man in a sleeper choke, the other driving the blade into his chest.
Keep going. Keep going. Keep going.
The words repeated like a twisted mantra.
Qiren drove the blade through the man's heart and held him there as the body spasmed.
His own body crumbled slightly as the effort took its toll.
The moment the thug stopped moving, Qiren rolled him onto the carpeted interior.
He sat up, panting.
"Two down."
He murmured it through blood-slicked breath.
His gaze locked onto the soul rising before him. His jaws opened—swallowing it whole—then his hand reached out and tore the silver chain from the man's neck.
His body fractured faster as he claimed it as a trophy.
He sat in the car for two full minutes before leaving. The instant he stepped out, he was an entirely different person.
The leather jacket was replaced by a longer coat, one bearing a tiger across the front when zipped. He stepped into the warehouse with a swagger he hadn't possessed before.
"That soul was even less compatible," he muttered, feeling the two chains on his neck—one already spiderwebbed with cracks, obvious to anyone who looked closely.
He picked up the rifle from the ground and strapped it across his back.
Qiren took the stairs leading outside rather than into the building proper.
He assumed the true stairwell to the second floor was inside the corridor or main workspace—this path only led to the outer guard rail.
He pushed open the metal door and was met with fresh air.
"Hey, Razor—you're back already—?"
The man with the buzz cut never finished.
A dagger tore through the man's skull.
Qiren didn't wait for him to react—his fingers moved instantly for the kill.
He threw his knife, darting straight for the armed guard.
The body slammed onto the metal platform, the impact rattling the entire frame.
Qiren glanced down.
No one was looking.
That was his green light.
He knelt, rifled through the corpse, and took a few hundred dollars from the wallet, stuffing it into his back pocket. He stripped the silver ring from the man's finger—and took his rifle as well.
Third down.
His right arm sank into the man's soul. Both vanished in a burst of black mist before Qiren reappeared alone—his body reshaped into that of his third kill.
He continued along the railing, dagger in hand.
Minimum of fifteen on watch, he calculated. Excluding those below, six should be stationed on the railing.
I've already killed two enforcers.
That left four.
His eyes narrowed.
The dagger flew—burying itself in a man's skull at the corner.
Qiren rushed forward, dragged the body fully out of sight, clamped a hand over the man's mouth, yanked the dagger free, and sliced his throat.
Then, for certainty, he drove the blade straight into the heart.
The thug's execution was swift, unnoticed by him or his accomplices just around the corner.
This was the tricky part—Qiren needed to take them all down before anyone below realized what was happening.
He turned to the floating mist-covered soul before him and didn't waste a second, devouring it.
Its energy coursed through him. He closed his eyes and envisioned the interior of the warehouse.
His body blurred from existence, reappearing near the service truck he'd filled with two bodies.
"My rift affinity really is evolving," he muttered, emerging from the thick maelstrom around him and the body he had just touched.
"There are probably still a number of reasons I shouldn't try traveling long distances. Without a mental image, I don't want to risk phasing through a brick wall and losing my limbs."
He picked up the dead body and tossed it into the truck's trunk.
Then he retrieved another tarpaulin from a nearby vehicle to cover it, stuffing the old cover into the front seats around his kills.
He refocused, fixing his mind on the outdoor railing. A small rift opened, sending him back to his last destination.
He twirled his knife and stabbed without hesitation.
Blood splattered across his face as shock washed over the man staring at him in disbelief.
"Rickkky…"
Slash!
Qiren's blade cut through the man's neck.
The gangster fell to his knees, arms clutching his bleeding throat, gargling blood, unable to form coherent words as his gun was stolen from his back and aimed at his head.
"Bang."Â
The man's heart stopped. His mind blanked before he could even pull the trigger.
Qiren chuckled.
"Did he just have a heart attack?"
He laughed again.
"Old man… all he ever had was a smoking problem. I always told him those things would ruin his old bones. One bang was enough for him to croak—haha, what an old fart."
He reached into the man's pockets.
"You should have left the hard stuff to the younger generation. Anyway…" Half his face shifted, his left pupil turning grayish, a scar running across it. "Hey brat, who do you think you're calling an old fart?"
The words left his mouth before he realized they weren't his.
Qiren straightened, rubbing the manifested scar, then laughed as his arm devoured a distinctly human soul without him even noticing.
"I lost myself again," he admitted, shaking his head as drool slid from his mouth. "I was this close to a full-on psychotic breakdown, but thanks to you, I managed to fend off these two. So… thank you."
His voice dripped with hunger. His free hand pulled off the half-devoured soul his maws had been gnawing on. Even half of it had been enough to nearly make him lose control.
He leapt from the second floor.
His feet opened like his arm, revealing more mouths.
He landed silently. The mouths on his calves absorbed the impact, transferring it into the air.
His eyes locked onto the scent that could shatter the persona holding him together.
A patrolman shook as he witnessed Qiren's slaughter—the sudden, almost supernatural entrance, the stabbing, and the mental break that resulted from ingesting two strong willed souls.
His face twisted into half and half, taking on the face of Ricky and the scared old man he had killed. The patrolman froze, his heart pounding, staring at the drooling beast before him.Â
It had to be coming after him now. There was no way it would leave a witness alive.
That's what Danny's intuition told him.
Danny shifted his weight, too terrified to fight. What could a machete do against that monstrosity?
He ran, plunging into the woods, crashing through thick shrubs.
Cracking branches and snapping twigs echoed behind him. Danny's heart raced.
Had he lost whatever was chasing him?
"Look up, Danny boy," Qiren murmured, manifesting above a tree branch, a piston-like weapon aimed down at him.
"W-what… wait, I've got a—"
"A machete," Qiren finished his sentence, his mind boiling at the thought of devouring the ball of fear before him.
The pull was instinctive—so strong he had to stop himself from immediately harvesting the man's fear-infused essence.
He resisted.
Not yet.
He could still wait for true despair.
"Here, I'll give you something better if you can reach it," Qiren taunted, tossing a pistol to the ground.
Huff. Huff.
Danny's eyes dropped to the gun—
Crack!
His gaze shot up, only to see Qiren's face splitting open.
Haa… haa…
He stumbled back, frozen, unsure what to do. Why had he stepped back so far? The pistol was right there.
Crraaash.
Flesh ripped—wet, raw, grotesque. Bones snapped and shifted beneath the skin.
Danny dared not move.
Pressure washed over him, suffocating.
"Let's play a game. If you reach that firearm, I'll let you go. If not… well, you know what happens next."
The words cut through the forest.
Danny forced his head up.
"W-what… what are you?!"
His eyes widened as the drizzling rain parted, sunlight illuminating the leaves and casting a twisted glow on the being in the trees.
It shifted farther away from the amalgamation of his superiors—the faces of Ricky and Old Darick fused together—twisting, breaking, and falling from the creature.
Qiren smiled.
Or rather, the enormous mouth on his abdomen did.
Its lips curled, tongue long and dripping, body elongated. His arms grew bony and pale, nails extending into nine-inch claws. His legs bent into hind limbs like a wild beast.
Mouths opened along his limbs, coated in black ink, dozens of golden eyes staring from his shoulders, chest, and back. His ears widened and pointed outward.
His mismatched gang clothes shifted into black, purple, and gold seams, forming a circus-like outfit that still didn't fit the monstrosity. His hair wove together, golden mist rising as it solidified into a twisted jester's hat.
"Me…" Qiren rasped, his face split open with multiple rows of teeth.
"I am Qìrén Vhal'Zerath. The one who cast aside Bad Luck, master of misfortune, Dark Embryo of the Abyss, Lord of the Azure Flames, bearer of the Blue Sea. I go by many titles in this world…"
"You can call me a MAD JESTER!!!"
His voice became demonic as he leapt from the tree.
Darkness engulfed him for a moment before Danny felt a shadow loom overhead.
CRUNCH!
CAW! CAW! CAW!
Birds tried to flee, but their bodies froze mid-flap. Hundreds of strands shot from Qiren's grotesque body, emanating from all his open maws.
The forest returned to silence, unaware that the world had just changed forever.