The thing that rose from the cot was no longer Ren Walker.
It was a vessel of pure, agonizing need. The human consciousness was submerged beneath a tidal wave of red static. There was no strategy, no fear, only a screaming biological imperative: CONSUME.
Kain was a professional. He had killed C-Rank Hunters in fair fights. He had assassinated politicians in locked rooms. He did not panic.
When Ren lunged, moving faster than a human body should be capable of, Kain didn't try to block. He dropped his center of gravity, pivoting on his heel. He used Ren's own momentum against him, grabbing Ren's outstretched arm and executing a perfect judo throw.
CRASH.
Ren slammed into a glass display case filled with antique watches. Shards of glass and metal exploded outward.
A normal man would be stunned. Ren didn't even slow down.
He rolled amidst the broken glass, shards embedding in his skin, and sprang back to his feet in one fluid motion. The glass fell away as his skin rippled, the wounds sealing instantly with faint puffs of steam.
"Fast food," the entity that wasn't quite Ren hissed. The voice was distorted, a layered resonance of human vocal cords and something deeper, guttural.
Kain adjusted his glasses with his free hand. "Regeneration. Troublesome."
Ren attacked again. No technique. Just a haymaker punch aimed at Kain's skull with enough force to crack concrete.
Kain ducked under the blow. The air pressure from the missed punch ruffled his hair. He came up inside Ren's guard, driving the stiffened fingers of his free hand into Ren's solar plexus.
It was a strike meant to stop a heart.
It felt like punching a sack of wet cement filled with rebar.
Ren grunted, but didn't buckle. Instead, his own biology betrayed him in a spasm of aggressive adaptation. [Bone Weaving] activated without conscious thought.
SQUELCH-CRACK.
Jagged spurs of white bone erupted from Ren's elbows and shoulders, tearing through his own shirt and skin. He was becoming a thorny problem.
Ren swung a bone-spiked elbow toward Kain's throat.
Kain's eyes widened slightly. He raised his silenced pistol, not to fire, but to block.
CLANG.
The bone spur hit the steel slide of the pistol, knocking the weapon from Kain's grip. The force of the blow sent Kain skidding backward across the oily floor.
"Impressive density," Kain muttered, drawing a combat knife from a hidden sheath at the small of his back. The blade was matte black, forged from C-Rank mana-steel. "Let's see if you bleed."
Ren roared—a sound that made the incapacitated Silas cover his ears—and charged.
It was a brawl in a closet. They crashed into shelves, knocking over piles of scrap metal and tools. The darkness was lit only by the sparks of steel scraping against bone.
Ren was a storm of violence, swinging wild, bone-studded limbs. Kain was the eye of the storm, a blur of efficient grey movement.
Kain ducked a lethal backhand and stepped in close, his knife flashing.
ZIP-ZIP-ZIP.
Three strikes in under a second. Across Ren's chest, his bicep, and a deep thrust into his thigh.
Blood—dark, thick, and smelling faintly of copper and ozone—sprayed the floor.
Ren bellowed in pain, stumbling back. The thigh wound was deep, severing muscle.
But before Kain could press the advantage, the wounds began to bubble. Steam hissed from the cuts as muscle fibers rewired themselves at terrifying speed. The agony didn't stop Ren; it fueled the Hunger.
"THE MEAT IS FIGHTING BACK," Gluttony howled in the mental landscape, delighted by the carnage. "TEAR OFF THE WRAPPER!"
Ren dropped to all fours. The human pretense abandoned him completely. His violet, slit-pupiled eyes locked onto Kain's throat.
He used [Flash Step].
He didn't appear next to Kain. He appeared in mid-air, launching himself tackle-style at the assassin's chest.
Kain didn't have time to dodge. He brought his knife up in a defensive guard.
Ren crashed into him. They hit the floor together in a tangle of limbs. Kain's suit tore as Ren's bone spurs snagged the fabric.
Ren ignored the knife digging into his ribs. He snapped his jaws at Kain's face.
Kain jerked his head back, but Ren's teeth—now sharper, denser—clamped onto the expensive Italian leather of Kain's shoulder padding.
And the flesh beneath it.
CRUNCH-TEAR.
Kain grunted, a sharp intake of breath through clenched teeth, as Ren ripped a chunk of suit, skin, and muscle from his trapezius.
Blood fountained, warm and blinding.
Ren swallowed the piece whole, not bothering to chew. The taste of high-grade Awakened blood hit his system like pure adrenaline.
[Consumed: Human Flesh (C-Rank Hunter)]
[Bio-Mass: +30]
[Regeneration Boosted.]
The knife in Ren's ribs was pushed out by closing flesh.
Kain was hurt. Badly. But he wasn't panicked. Panic got you killed.
While Ren was distracted by swallowing, Kain jammed his thumb deep into Ren's eye socket.
Ren shrieked, recoiling, his head snapping back.
Kain used the moment to buck his hips, throwing the heavier Ren off him. Kain scrambled backward, sliding on his own blood, putting a workbench between himself and the monster.
They stood panting in the dark shop, separated by ten feet of cluttered space.
Kain was pale. His left arm hung uselessly at his side, blood soaking the grey ruin of his suit. He looked at Ren with a new expression. It wasn't fear. It was cold calculation.
Ren was hunched over, blood—both his and Kain's—dripping from his chin. The bone spurs on his elbows were chipped. He was vibrating with energy, ready to leap again.
"You're not a variant," Kain said, his voice calm despite the massive blood loss. "You're a dungeon break wearing skin."
Ren didn't answer. He just snarled, saliva mixing with blood. He took a step forward.
Kain reached into his pocket with his good hand. He pulled out a small, spherical metal object.
"I don't get paid enough for extermination jobs," Kain whispered.
He threw the sphere at Ren's feet.
Ren, driven by instinct, swiped at it.
FLASH.
A magnesium flare ignited. In the pitch-black shop, with Ren's sensitive night vision active, it was like staring into the sun.
Ren screamed, clutching his eyes, blinded by the searing white light.
By the time the spots cleared from his vision five seconds later, the front door was swinging open in the rain.
Kain was gone. All that was left was a trail of bright red blood leading out into the alleyway.
Ren stood in the center of the wrecked shop, chest heaving. The Hunger was still screaming at 95%, demanding he chase the prey.
He turned.
His violet eyes landed on the only other living thing in the room.
Silas.
The old cyborg was still on the floor, clutching his ruined mechanical knee. He had watched the whole thing. He held the wrench in a shaking hand, looking up at the boy he had saved.
Ren took a step toward Silas.
"He is wounded," Gluttony whispered, the voice thick with lust. "Slow. Easy prey. The marrow in his remaining human bones will be... rich."
Ren opened his mouth. His teeth were still elongated. Saliva dripped onto the floor. He loomed over the old man.
"Ren," Silas whispered, not raising the wrench. "Don't."
The sound of his name seemed to hit a barrier in Ren's mind. He froze. The violet glow in his eyes flickered, warring with the natural brown.
He looked at the blood on his hands. He looked at the chunk of grey suit fabric caught in his teeth.
What am I doing?
The human consciousness clawed its way back to the surface, horrified by the monster piloting the body.
Ren stumbled back, crashing into the counter. He clutched his head, digging his fingernails into his scalp until they drew blood, trying to silence the roaring hunger.
"Get out," Ren choked out, his voice rough. "Silas... hide."
He fell to his knees, vomiting up the blood and cloth he had swallowed. He curled into a ball on the floor, shaking violently as the adrenaline crashed and the human horror set in.
The beast was back in its cage. But the lock was broken.