Abraham stood on the rooftop of a dilapidated tenement building, staring down at the streets below. The city felt quieter tonight, its usual cacophony reduced to a low hum. The hunt had been fruitless. No whispers from the MF forum, no flickers of aura that hinted at the supernatural. The only thing he'd found were shadows—empty, meaningless shadows.
He clenched his fists. His body ached—not from exhaustion but from absence. The hunger was sharper now, gnawing at the edges of his mind like a dull knife. It wasn't food he craved, or even rest. It was the rush, the surge of raw energy that came with absorbing another entity.
The last hunt was over a week ago. The cold fear manifestation had been strong, but its essence had burned bright and fast, leaving him yearning for more.
He ran a hand through his hair, the spiraling scars on his arm catching the faint moonlight. They pulsed faintly, almost mocking him.
You're losing control, a voice whispered in his mind, unbidden.
Abraham shook it off. "Control? I'm gaining it," he muttered aloud, as if speaking the words would make them true.
The next morning, he wandered into a small diner near his apartment. The place was one of the few remnants of his old life—a mundane refuge in a world that was increasingly alien to him.
Sliding into a booth, he ordered his usual: black coffee and a stack of pancakes. The waitress, an older woman with kind eyes, gave him a warm smile as she set the plate down.
"Haven't seen you in a while, hon," she said.
"Been busy," Abraham replied curtly, avoiding her gaze.
She lingered for a moment, her smile faltering as her eyes met his. Her expression tightened, a subtle shift he had come to recognize—a mixture of unease and pity.
"Take care of yourself, okay?" she said softly before walking away.
Abraham stared at his reflection in the silver napkin dispenser. The faint glow in his eyes was unmistakable, even in the dim light.
The food tasted like ash in his mouth. He forced himself to eat anyway, each bite a hollow reminder of his growing detachment from the simple pleasures of life.
That evening, he returned to the forum, scrolling through threads with increasing desperation. Most were mundane—new users asking questions about minor manifestations, arguments over the best ways to banish spirits.
Then he found it.
"Unstable Manifestation Spotted Near Portside Warehouse."
"Entity sighted in liminal space. No confirmed kills yet, but its aura is strong. Proceed with caution."
A grin spread across Abraham's face, but it didn't reach his eyes. He grabbed his blade, its weight comforting in his hand, and headed out into the night.
The warehouse was empty, its walls covered in graffiti and grime. Moonlight streamed through shattered windows, casting jagged patterns on the floor.
Abraham's breath came in shallow bursts as he stepped inside, his senses on high alert. The air was thick, heavy with the presence of something not entirely of this world.
Then he felt it—a ripple in the atmosphere, subtle but unmistakable.
The creature emerged from the shadows, its form shifting and flickering like static on a broken screen. It was small, barely humanoid, with elongated limbs and a face that was nothing but a featureless void. Its aura pulsed erratically, a chaotic mix of fear, rage, and despair.
Abraham's heart raced. He could almost taste its energy, feel the power it would grant him.
The fight was brief but brutal. The creature lunged at him with unnatural speed, its limbs slashing through the air like blades. Abraham dodged and countered, his psychic abilities flaring to life. He hurled shards of psychic energy at the entity, each strike carving away pieces of its flickering form.
Finally, with a roar, he plunged his blade into its core. The creature let out a distorted shriek, its body dissolving into a swirling vortex of light and shadow.
As the energy flowed into him, Abraham collapsed to his knees, gasping for air. His vision blurred, the world around him spinning.
When he came to, he felt stronger, sharper. The hunger had abated, replaced by a euphoric surge of power.
But it didn't last.
By the time Abraham returned to his apartment, the euphoria had faded, leaving behind an emptiness that felt deeper than before. He sat in the dark, staring at his hands. They trembled—not from fear, but from the anticipation of the next hunt.
The power he had gained was intoxicating, but it was never enough. The more he absorbed, the more he craved.
His phone buzzed with another message from the forum, but he ignored it. Instead, he picked up a book from his cluttered desk—a worn novel he'd read a dozen times before his awakening. He tried to lose himself in its pages, but the words felt distant, meaningless.
The world of the mundane was slipping away from him, and he wasn't sure he wanted to hold onto it anymore.
That night, he dreamed of the Spiral. It didn't speak this time, but its presence was unmistakable—a vast, coiling mass that filled the sky, its tendrils stretching out to envelop the world.
When he woke, his arm was burning, the scars glowing faintly in the darkness.
He stared at them, his mind racing.
The Spiral was waiting. Watching.
And Abraham knew, deep down, that every step he took brought him closer to it.
—–
Abraham sat at the edge of a fountain in the heart of a bustling park. The air was crisp with the bite of early autumn, the leaves tinged with fiery hues of orange and red. Laughter echoed around him—families, joggers, and couples enjoying the fleeting warmth of the sun before winter arrived. He tugged his coat tighter around himself, trying to ignore the gnawing hunger that had been steadily growing since his last hunt.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. A mundane text from a mundane contact. He didn't have to check to know who it was.
Kelsey.
He had met her in college during his freshman year, back when he was just another face in a sea of students. She was kind in a way that felt genuine, her laugh infectious, her sarcasm sharp enough to match his. They had drifted apart after his awakening, her messages dwindling as his replies became shorter, more curt.
But she was persistent, and he hated that it gave him pause.
"Hey, I'm near the park. Want to grab coffee?"
He stared at the message for a long moment. A part of him wanted to ignore it, to slip further into the shadows of his new life. But another part—a quieter, more fragile part—wanted to say yes.
The coffee shop was warm, a stark contrast to the chilly streets outside. Kelsey waved him over from a corner table, her face lighting up with a smile. She looked the same, though there was a softness to her now, a steadiness that felt alien to him.
"Abraham," she said, standing to hug him. He stiffened, the gesture foreign, but forced himself to return it.
"It's been a while," he said, sitting across from her. His voice sounded distant even to himself.
"You don't say," she teased, pushing a cup of coffee toward him. "You've been harder to get a hold of than my mom during tax season."
He gave her a half-smile, sipping the coffee. It was bitter, the way he used to like it, but it tasted off now, like ash.
"I've been... busy," he said finally.
She arched an eyebrow, leaning back in her chair. "Busy with what? You disappeared. No texts, no calls. Everyone thought you dropped out."
"I didn't drop out."
"Well, that's good to hear. But seriously, Abe, what's going on? You don't look... well."
Her concern was genuine, and it made his skin crawl. He wanted to tell her something, anything, but the truth was impossible. How could he explain the things he'd seen, the things he'd done?
"Just life," he said vaguely.
She frowned but didn't press. Instead, she started talking about her classes, her plans for a winter internship, the usual chatter of a life he no longer recognized. He nodded along, offering the occasional comment, but his mind was elsewhere.
His senses were sharper now, and the mundane world felt muted in comparison. He could hear the hum of the coffee machine, the subtle shift in Kelsey's breathing when she hesitated, the faint crackle of leaves outside as someone stepped on them.
But it all felt distant, like watching a movie with the sound turned too low.
"I miss this," Kelsey said suddenly, pulling him out of his thoughts.
"What?"
"Talking to you. Hanging out. You were always... grounded, you know? Like, nothing could faze you."
Abraham laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. "Yeah, grounded."
She leaned forward, her expression softening. "You can tell me if something's wrong. You know that, right? Whatever it is, I won't judge."
He wanted to believe her, but the weight of his new reality crushed the thought before it could take root.
Instead, he stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. "I should go."
Kelsey blinked, startled. "What? Why?"
"I just—" He ran a hand through his hair, avoiding her gaze. "I'm not... good company right now."
"Abe, wait—"
"Thanks for the coffee," he said, cutting her off as he turned and walked out.
—–
The night swallowed him as he walked aimlessly through the streets. The encounter had left a bitter taste in his mouth, but it wasn't guilt. It was frustration.
He had felt nothing. No joy, no comfort, not even the faint flicker of nostalgia he thought he might. Kelsey had been a part of his old life, but that life felt like a story he had read long ago—detached, irrelevant.
His phone buzzed again. This time, it wasn't mundane.
"Entity sighted near the industrial district. Hostile. Proceed with caution."
A grim smile spread across his face as he read the message. This was what mattered now. The hunt, the power, the rush of taking something so otherworldly and making it his.
As he made his way to the industrial district, he felt the scars on his arm burn faintly, a reminder of the Spiral's presence.
The creature was waiting in an abandoned factory, its form grotesque and twisted. Abraham approached it without hesitation, the blade in his hand glowing faintly with psychic energy.
The fight was brutal, but Abraham's hesitation was gone. Each strike was precise, calculated, designed to inflict maximum pain. He didn't just want to defeat the creature—he wanted it to suffer.
When it finally fell, he absorbed its essence, the energy coursing through him like fire. He stood over its remains, breathing heavily, his hands trembling with the intoxicating rush of power.
But as the high faded, the hunger returned, sharper than ever.
And in the back of his mind, he saw Kelsey's face—not as she had been in the coffee shop, but as she might be if she ever saw him like this.
He pushed the thought away.
There was no going back now, but maybe he could try?
------
Abraham stood outside the lecture hall, his hand resting on the cold metal handle of the door. The chatter of students leaked out through the cracks, a mix of laughter and casual conversation. He had forgotten how noisy it could be.
It had been months since he'd last stepped onto campus. The air smelled of freshly mowed grass and cheap cafeteria coffee, mingling with the faint, sterile scent of the building's old linoleum floors.
With a deep breath, he opened the door.
The room was alive with activity. Students clustered in groups, some hunched over their laptops while others exchanged notes. Abraham slipped into the back row, the chair squeaking faintly under his weight.
The professor—a wiry man with glasses perpetually perched on the tip of his nose—was already setting up his slides, the bright glow of the projector spilling across the screen.
"Okay, folks, settle down," he called, tapping a pen against the desk. "Today, we're diving into quantum entanglement. If that sounds intimidating, don't worry—it is."
A ripple of laughter ran through the room, but Abraham barely noticed.
He sat stiffly, his senses hyper-aware of every movement around him. The girl to his left was chewing gum, the rhythmic popping grating against his ears. The guy in front of him tapped a pen nervously against his notebook, each click digging into his patience.
It wasn't just annoying—it was overwhelming.
He clenched his fists under the desk, focusing on the professor's words, but even that felt hollow. The lecture, once a source of fascination, now seemed trivial. Why did any of this matter when there were monsters lurking in the shadows, horrors that could bend reality and shatter minds?
—–
After class, Abraham lingered near the door, his fingers brushing against the strap of his bag. He wasn't sure why he stayed—maybe it was the faint hope of reconnecting, of finding some semblance of normalcy.
"Abraham?"
He turned, startled. A girl with a familiar face stood behind him, her brown eyes wide with recognition.
"Emma," he said, his voice flat but polite.
She smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Wow, it's been ages. I thought you transferred or something."
"No, just... took some time off."
"Well, it's good to see you," she said, her smile faltering slightly under his cold demeanor. "Are you back for good?"
"Something like that," he replied, already scanning for an exit.
"You should come to the study group," she offered, her voice laced with a hopeful cheeriness. "We're meeting tomorrow in the library. Same crowd as last year, mostly."
He hesitated, her invitation pulling at something deep within him. "I'll think about it."
—–
The next day, Abraham found himself standing outside the library, staring at the familiar glass doors. He wasn't sure why he had come.
The study group sat at a large table near the back, surrounded by stacks of books and half-empty coffee cups. Emma waved him over, her smile bright and unguarded.
He joined them reluctantly, sinking into a chair. The conversation buzzed around him—inside jokes, shared complaints about the professor, and a spirited debate over the merits of their latest assignment.
For a brief moment, he felt almost human again. He even managed a laugh when Emma made a sarcastic remark about the professor's slides.
But then someone asked him a question.
"So, Abraham, what have you been up to?"
The room seemed to close in on him. What could he possibly say? That he spent his nights hunting creatures that embodied humanity's darkest fears? That he'd absorbed the essence of monsters and felt their power coursing through his veins?
"Nothing much," he muttered, avoiding their eyes.
The conversation moved on, but the disconnect was palpable.
—–
As he left the library that evening, the cool night air wrapped around him like a shroud. The laughter of his classmates echoed faintly behind him, a sound that should have been comforting but instead felt alien.
His phone buzzed.
"Hostile entity sighted near Southbridge. Proceed with caution."
The message was like a jolt to his system, a reminder of the world he truly belonged to now.
He glanced back at the library, at the warm glow of the lights and the silhouettes of students moving inside. For a fleeting moment, he wondered what it would be like to stay, to pretend he was still just another college kid.
But the hunger gnawed at him, sharper than ever.
He turned away, slipping into the shadows.
—–
Abraham's schedule became a labyrinth of contradictions. By day, he attended college classes, surrounded by peers who had no inkling of the horrors he faced at night. He meticulously worked on freelance programming projects, the hum of his laptop a brief reprieve from the chaos of his double life. At night, he hunted, seeking out supernatural entities to absorb their essence and grow stronger, his hunger for power and sustenance becoming increasingly insatiable.
In the lecture halls, his once-genuine interactions were now strained, his responses calculated and hollow. He would sit in the back, his mind often wandering to his latest confrontation or the creature he planned to hunt next. Professors and classmates noted his distracted demeanor, but he dismissed their concern with a well-practiced smile.
One afternoon, while working on a group project for his programming class, a teammate, Lila, tried to engage him. She was sharp, observant, and persistent, her curiosity about his reclusive nature evident.
"You seem like you're always a million miles away," Lila said, her voice tinged with both curiosity and concern. "What's going on with you?"
Abraham paused, the tapping of his keyboard ceasing. He could feel the weight of her gaze, searching for something real beneath his carefully crafted facade. But the words wouldn't come. How could he explain the monsters, the blood, the ever-present hunger?
"Just... juggling a lot," he finally replied, his tone clipped.
Lila frowned, sensing there was more to his story, but she didn't press further. The silence between them stretched uncomfortably as they returned to their work.
—–
Later that night, Abraham prowled through the city, his thoughts tangled. The mundane world was trying to tether him back, but every attempt felt like a chain he couldn't bear to wear. The creatures he hunted, the power he absorbed—they felt real in a way that college, projects, and casual conversations never could.
During one hunt, as he stood over a whimpering entity, ready to deliver the final blow, the memory of Lila's concern flickered in his mind. For a moment, his hand wavered. Then he crushed the hesitation with cold resolve, his strike precise and merciless.
The entity's essence poured into him, a euphoric rush dulling the echo of humanity that still clung to his soul.