The air in the alley was thick, damp, and suffocating, clinging to Abraham's skin as he walked. The tension gnawed at him, an unshakable sense of foreboding. He gripped his arm, still aching from the betrayal, and forced himself to focus.
He wasn't sure if it was exhaustion or paranoia that made every shadow feel alive. But as he passed a weathered brick wall, a movement caught his eye—a shimmer, subtle but deliberate, like heatwaves distorting the air.
Abraham froze, staring.
The shimmer rippled, growing more defined. It twisted and expanded, coalescing into a humanoid shape. But it wasn't solid. Its form seemed to be made of fragmented reflections, like shards of a broken mirror suspended in the air. The pieces moved independently, a kaleidoscope of fractured light and distorted images.
"What... the hell?" Abraham whispered, taking a cautious step back.
The thing tilted its head—or at least what resembled a head. Its entire body was an impossible distortion, a living puzzle that hurt to look at for too long. It moved closer, the sound of grinding glass accompanying each step.
Abraham's pulse quickened. This wasn't like the wraith or the monstrous entities he'd faced before. This was something stranger, something that shouldn't exist.
"Stay back," he warned, summoning a psychic barrier.
The entity paused, its fragmented surface flickering, reflecting the shimmering energy of the barrier. Then it lunged.
The impact sent Abraham stumbling back, his barrier cracking under the force. He gritted his teeth, reshaping the barrier into a spear and driving it forward. The spear pierced through the entity, but instead of recoiling, it absorbed the weapon, its surface rippling as the construct dissolved into its body.
"What the—?" Abraham barely had time to react before it lashed out.
A sharp, jagged limb formed from the shards, slicing through the air. He ducked, the edge narrowly missing his face, and retaliated with a psychic chain. The chain wrapped around the entity, tightening with a metallic hiss.
But the entity adapted. Its form shifted, breaking apart and reforming on the other side of the chain. It lunged again, faster this time.
Abraham threw up another barrier, but the entity phased through it, its fractured body scattering and reforming behind him. A jagged limb struck his shoulder, sending him sprawling to the ground.
Pain flared as he scrambled to his feet, blood trickling from a shallow cut. His mind raced. His usual tactics weren't working—this thing was too fluid, too adaptable.
Think. Get creative.
He focused on the alley, on the fragmented reflections in puddles and broken glass. He could feel the entity's connection to them, like threads woven into its existence.
Abraham stretched out a hand, his psychic energy surging. He reached into the reflective surfaces around him, pulling them together. The puddles rippled and lifted, the shards of glass trembling as they coalesced into a swirling vortex.
The entity faltered, its form flickering as the vortex pulled at it. Abraham gritted his teeth, straining to maintain control.
"Let's see how you like this," he growled, twisting the vortex tighter.
The entity thrashed, its fragmented body breaking apart and reforming in a desperate attempt to escape. But Abraham didn't let up. He poured more energy into the vortex, dragging the entity into the swirling mass.
With a final, ear-splitting shriek, the entity collapsed into itself, its form shattering like a broken mirror. The vortex dissipated, leaving only a faint shimmer in the air.
Abraham stumbled back, breathing heavily. His shoulder throbbed, his energy nearly spent. But he'd won.
He leaned against the wall, staring at the spot where the entity had been. For a moment, the world seemed unnaturally still, as if holding its breath.
"What was that thing?" he muttered, his voice hoarse.
The question lingered as he pushed himself upright and began the long walk home. His mind buzzed with the implications of what he'd just faced. The supernatural world was far stranger and more dangerous than he'd imagined.
And he was only beginning to scratch the surface.
Abraham staggered, his pulse pounding in his ears as he steadied himself against the wall. His body ached, every muscle screaming in protest, but his mind was clearer now. The creature, whatever it had been, was gone. He could feel the faint, lingering remnants of its presence in the air—like static after a storm, almost imperceptible but still there.
He glanced down at the blood on his hand, a dull red smear from where the jagged limb had sliced his shoulder. The pain still gnawed at him, but it was nothing compared to the feeling that surged from deep within.
The hunger.
It had been simmering beneath the surface since the last fight, but now it clawed at him more insistently. His stomach growled, the gnawing, insatiable emptiness louder than ever. His powers had been pushed to the limit, but something inside of him stirred, something primal.
It was as if the entity's essence was still there, a residue, calling to him. A strange impulse gripped him, a whisper in his mind urging him to take more—to claim its power.
Without thinking, Abraham reached out. His fingers curled instinctively, and with a surge of force, he pulled. His body thrummed with energy, his mind screaming for him to stop, but he couldn't—he wouldn't.
The energy, the essence of the creature, obeyed. He could feel it, a cold, writhing mass of otherness. It was not like the wraith he'd faced before, nor like anything else he'd absorbed. This was... different. It wasn't physical—it was a reflection, a shadow of existence, fragmented and broken.
And yet, he pulled it in.
The air around him shimmered, twisting as if reality itself bent to his will. The sensation was overwhelming—his entire body seemed to vibrate as the essence poured into him, filling the void within him. He could feel it, its raw power, the brokenness of the creature becoming a part of him.
He gasped, stumbling back as the creature's energy settled within him, but the hunger receded. For now.
Abraham stood there, panting, his mind awash with the weight of what he'd just done. He didn't fully understand what had just happened. He didn't know what he had just taken inside of him. But the emptiness was gone—for the moment.
And with that, a new sense of strength rippled through him, a lingering pulse of power that wasn't his own.
"What the hell..." he muttered under his breath, wiping his mouth as if the act itself had left a taste on his tongue.
He looked down at his hands, as though expecting them to look different, expecting some visible change. But nothing had shifted outwardly. His skin still bore the marks of the battle—scrapes and bruises—but inside, something had changed.
He could feel it.
For a long moment, he stood there, the only sound the distant hum of the city. And then, slowly, he began to walk again, his steps more deliberate now. He was different, somehow—more aware of the force within him. He had just consumed something that shouldn't have existed, and it had filled the void that gnawed at him for so long.
But the hunger would return. It always did. And next time, he wouldn't hesitate.
As the creature's form disintegrated into an unnatural haze, Abraham stood over the remnants, his chest heaving with the aftereffects of the battle. The stench of decay and burnt flesh still clung to the air, but his mind was far from the battle. Something inside him had shifted—an unsettling feeling of completion. The remnants of the beast were no longer just scattered remains; they felt... connected, like a piece of his soul had just tethered itself to the creature's essence. His hunger, momentarily sated by the act of consumption, gnawed at him again, but this time it was different. The gnawing sensation wasn't just from his stomach—it was from deep within, like his very being had just absorbed something far greater than sustenance.
He raised his hand, staring at it in awe, as if the appendage wasn't his own anymore. The sensation of energy thrumming beneath his skin intensified. He could feel the presence of the creature within him, like a pulse. Not just a memory, but something tangible. Something real. His fingers twitched, and with it, a ripple of power surged through his veins.
Then, without thought, his body moved. His arm shot forward, and he clenched his fist. The air around him hummed with a deep, bass tone, a vibration that echoed inside his skull. For the first time, he wasn't trying to control his powers—they were responding to him, guiding him. His psychic barriers formed instinctively, coalescing into the shape of a jagged, cruel blade of mental energy, the edges sparking with raw power. He swung it toward the ground in an almost animalistic motion, and it tore through the earth like a hot knife through butter, leaving a gash in the concrete floor of the alleyway.
The realization hit him hard. This wasn't temporary. The beast's essence wasn't just a fleeting gift; it had become part of him. It had seeped into the very marrow of his bones, bonding with him in ways he didn't fully understand. His powers had grown, his senses sharper, more honed. The mental barrier he had once struggled to form was now seamless, as though his mind had become a steel trap, unyielding and precise.
His mind raced with the possibilities, the danger of it all. What could he do with this newfound power? He wasn't sure yet. But he could feel it—the essence of the creature was now his to command. The boundaries between himself and the power he'd absorbed had blurred, leaving him with a deep sense of understanding. Every flicker of energy, every pulse of raw strength felt more natural to him now. It was as if the very concept of control had changed. The idea of manipulating his surroundings, of bending the world to his will, had evolved. He was no longer a mere manipulator of objects or energy; he was an integrator, taking the essence of what he defeated and weaving it into his own being. His senses heightened, and he felt his thoughts becoming sharper, more focused.
As the feeling of power surged within him, so too did the hunger, gnawing deeper than before. His body had grown stronger, yes, but the cost was becoming more evident. The entity was inside him now—permanently, and with it, came a dangerous temptation. He needed to keep moving, keep feeding the hunger before it consumed him entirely. But this was a different kind of hunger. Not just for food or power, but for something more intangible. More... primal.
He turned away from the shattered ground, the echoes of the battle still rippling in his mind.
The city loomed ahead, its dull hum of life a stark contrast to the storm building inside him. He needed to learn how to wield this power. How to control it. And most importantly, how to understand what it meant for him now that this essence, this new layer of power, was his.
A deep, savage thought crossed his mind—What happens when I absorb more? Would his hunger ever end, or would it keep feeding on itself, consuming everything, until there was nothing left but a hollow shell driven only by desire? He didn't know the answer. But he was going to find out.
His eyes glowed faintly—no longer just a sign of his supernatural nature, but a window to the raw force now inside him, threatening to break free at any moment.