Kazuto's legs ached, but he moved forward, his senses still humming with the remnants of his first loop. Every step he took echoed through the broken hallways, bouncing off walls slick with moisture and rot. The island was alive, and he could feel it watching, measuring, testing him.
The stairwell ended in a wide chamber, its ceiling cracked and half-collapsed. Shafts of dim, gray light fell from above, revealing walls streaked with old blood and strange, pulsing veins that seemed almost organic. The floor was littered with bones, shattered weapons, and broken glass that glittered like dark stars.
Kazuto stepped carefully, testing each floorboard, his body remembering the lessons of his last encounter. The warmth in his veins surged again, a familiar hum that sharpened his reflexes. He was still weak — this was only the beginning — but he could feel power rising within him, raw and dangerous.
A low growl echoed through the chamber. He froze. In the shadows, two figures emerged: humanoid, but twisted and malformed, their limbs elongated and skeletal, skin stretched tight over their bones. Their eyes glowed faintly red. They moved with a predatory grace, circling each other as much as they circled him.
Instinct took over. Kazuto lunged to the side as one of them snapped its jaw at him. The other swiped with a clawed hand. His body moved faster than thought, his reflexes sharpened by the mutation. He rolled, grabbed a fallen pipe, and swung. The pipe struck the first creature across its torso, sending it crashing into the wall.
The second lunged again, but Kazuto anticipated its movement, dodging and spinning, landing a strike that made the creature hiss in pain. But they were relentless. No hesitation, no fear, only instinct and hunger.
This is going to take more than brute force…
Kazuto's eyes flicked across the hall. A crumbling pillar. He ran, baiting the creatures toward it. With a calculated push, the first creature collided with the pillar, and it toppled, pinning its limbs beneath rubble. The second shrieked and charged.
Pain flared in his shoulder, but his mutation responded. Muscles and reflexes honed, he sidestepped, using momentum to slam the iron pipe into the creature's head. It dissolved into a puddle of writhing, black-and-red cells, like the first enemy he had killed.
He staggered back, gasping, touching the remains. The cells pulsed again, climbing into his veins in a way he could feel but not control. This was the second surge — the first true absorption of another creature's essence.
The whispers returned, soft, distant:
"Learn… or perish."
Kazuto clenched his teeth and moved forward. The chamber opened into a long, broken street, lined with crumbling buildings. He paused, taking in the environment. This was the Promenade of the Condemned, a place the island had carved from decay and despair. Smoke drifted from collapsed roofs, and somewhere far ahead, a low, metallic clang echoed repeatedly.
He moved carefully, testing each step, scanning for movement. The shadows stretched, twisted, and creatures emerged from every corner — humanoid figures fused with rusted metal, swarming like a tide of nightmare.
Kazuto's muscles burned, but instinct guided him. He dodged, rolled, and struck with whatever he could grab. Every kill brought another pulse in his veins. Every pulse taught him something new. His senses sharpened. He could feel movement before he saw it. Reflexes honed beyond human capability. He understood the rhythm of life and death in this place.
Then he noticed it — a small, glowing vial half-buried in debris. Alchemical in nature. He picked it up. The liquid inside shimmered, faintly moving like it had a life of its own. A note, scrawled and torn, was attached:
"Consume to awaken what lies dormant. Choose wisely, for it will not leave unchanged."
Kazuto hesitated, but the island had already proven that hesitation could be fatal. He uncorked the vial and drank. Fire surged through his veins, a painful, stretching warmth that left him gasping. His muscles screamed, his skin tingled, and his vision sharpened to a piercing clarity.
The first alchemical weapon had awakened within him: a Cellblade, a jagged, living extension of his own body. It pulsed, eager to strike, hungry for battle. When he swung, it cut through the nearest creature effortlessly, as though the island itself had given him the tool to survive.
But the moment of triumph was broken by a distant, deep roar — not human, not fully animal. Something larger, more deliberate. Something that felt… aware.
Kazuto's heart pounded. This was no ordinary enemy. This was a mini-boss, a test by the island itself. And it was coming for him.
He clenched the Cellblade. His muscles, senses, and reflexes burned with the surge of mutation. The first loop had taught him survival, but now he would learn what combat, strategy, and adaptation truly meant.
And somewhere, from the shadows, the familiar whisper returned:
"Learn, or remain forever. Your evolution has only just begun."
Kazuto Mikage stepped forward, ready to face whatever the Promenade of the Condemned would throw at him. The first true challenge of the island had begun.