Brisbane's fog had teeth.
Malachai stepped through the veil of mist that clung to the southern perimeter, each breath pulling in air laced with mana corruption and the scent of ancient blood. The city behind him felt like a ghost—a memory veiled in concrete and fear. Here, in the fog, the world belonged to them.
The dungeon-born.
Creatures that had clawed their way free of ruptured Gates—C-rank, B-rank, and worse—now roamed the outskirts. Each step into the haze meant risking an encounter with things not meant to exist outside their hell-born cages.
He moved in silence.
The Hungering Veil flowed behind him, low and quiet. The fog muted all sound. There were no birds. No wind.
Just breathing.
And watching.
The first monster came fast.
A Fleshwrithe Stag, its body elongated and wrong, legs too thin, antlers made of writhing arms. It galloped on broken limbs, bones snapping and reforming with each stride. Eyes blinked along its neck, watching from all directions.
It didn’t hesitate.
Malachai let it come.
He flared Predatory Insight. The stag's midsection glowed—an exposed sack of fused organs wrapped in thin skin. He charged, ducked a lashing antler-hand, and drove his claws into the sack.
It ruptured.
Blood sprayed black and thick as tar. The creature bucked, shrieked in six voices.
He climbed its spine.
Crimson Hookstep activated.
A whirling slash of death. Spine severed. Head removed.
The stag collapsed.
---
> Trait Fragment Acquired: Fleshwrithe Stag (1) +1 Reflex
> Mana Crystals Gained (2)
---
He moved on.
Deeper.
The next beast waited.
A Wicker Nun, standing still beneath a shattered streetlamp.
Seven feet tall. Wrapped in black wire and strips of scorched bible pages. No face—just a hole where a head should be, from which spilled coiling tongues. Her hands were made of rusted nails, fused together into claws. She sang.
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Low. Sweet. Wrong.
He stepped too close.
The song turned into a scream.
She moved.
Fast.
He backpedaled, throwing up Dread Pulse (Tier II). Her form fractured. She stumbled, hallucinating.
He charged.
Shade Step.
Behind her. Claws through the ribcage.
She turned her torso without moving her legs. Slashed his side. Pain lanced through him.
He endured.
He ripped the nail-hand from her arm and jammed it into her head-hole.
She convulsed.
Collapsed.
He didn't eat this one. He stored her.
---
> Womb of the Slain activated Graveborn Stored: Wicker Nun (Tier B)
> Trait Fragment Acquired: Wicker Nun (1) New Passive: Discordant Echo Upon taking damage, has a chance to release a burst of disorienting whispers, affecting nearby enemies' accuracy.
> Mana Crystals Gained (3)
---
Bloodied, but stronger, Malachai limped deeper.
The fog thickened.
It clung now. Wet. Pulsing.
The next creature found him before he could prepare.
A Shrike-Thing, humanoid only in mockery. Twelve feet tall, emaciated, cloaked in sheets of stitched human faces. Its mouth ran across its belly, vertical and twitching. Fingers too long, too many, ending in surgical blades. Its eyes were not eyes.
They were screams.
It lunged.
Malachai was too slow.
Claws raked his chest.
He rolled away, breath stolen.
It stalked him.
He flared Birthing Cry.
The Wicker Nun burst from a fold in reality, screaming her own madness.
She tackled the Shrike-Thing.
It tore her in half.
Malachai struck in the distraction. Crimson Hookstep to the knees. He hamstrung it.
It turned.
He activated Dread Pulse (Tier III). The hallucinations surged.
It wailed. Blind.
He climbed it.
Ripped open the back of its neck.
Found the screaming core.
And crushed it.
It fell in silence.
Then the Veil pulsed.
And he stored it.
---
> Womb of the Slain activated Graveborn Stored: Shrike-Thing (Tier A)
> Trait Fragment Acquired: Shrike-Thing (1) +2 Strength, +1 Willpower
> Mana Crystals Gained (5)
---
He collapsed beside it.
Breathing hard.
Trembling.
Victorious.
The fog curled around him.
And now, it was afraid.
