The oppressive silence of Aeternus Silva was torn apart by a low, guttural growl that rolled like thunder through the gnarled trees. Jim, Shaun's monstrous creation, loomed in the clearing, his grotesque form hunched over the remnants of his latest kill. The forest floor was a nightmarish tableau—bones splintered like brittle twigs, viscera steaming in the cold air, and Glide's lifeless body crumpled among the carnage. Once proud, once defiant, her flame had been extinguished, her essence devoured to feed the insatiable hunger of the beast.
This was not an act of chaos but one of careful design. Shaun had delivered Glide to her doom with chilling precision, offering her to Jim not as mercy but as fuel for evolution. Tempest had seen to the destruction of her mind, stripping her of sanity and will, leaving her a hollow vessel. Shaun had watched it all—the hunt, the feast, the monstrous transformation—with the dispassion of a scientist observing an experiment. Every moment was cataloged, every shift in Jim's grotesque form noted. Now, it was time for the final step.
"You've done well, Jim," Shaun said, his voice devoid of warmth or praise. "The time has come to complete your transformation. You will serve me as you were always meant to."
Raising his hand, Shaun summoned a manifestation of pure will—an ethereal construct in the shape of a mechanical head, its intricate lattice of glowing chips humming with otherworldly energy. The air quivered as the artifact emerged, casting a spectral light over the macabre scene.
"Behold," Shaun murmured, his voice laced with dark authority. "Your true form awaits. The question is, will you accept it?"
As the words left his lips, the air grew heavy, thick with the energy of his ability, Iudicia Privata. The ritual began. Threads of aura wove themselves into a lattice of power, binding Shaun's will to the forest itself. The ground trembled, and the wind stilled as if the very world waited to bear witness.
Jim, the hulking monstrosity, trembled before him, his grotesque limbs twitching with anticipation. The glow of the contract intensified, and the spectral construct fired a cascade of light into the beast. The first chip embedded itself in Jim's chest, then another and another, each one sinking into his flesh with a crackling hiss. The air was filled with the sound of tearing and reshaping, of agony and rebirth.
Jim let out a howl, a sound that shook the forest to its roots. His monstrous form convulsed, the dark aura wrapping around him like chains. The grotesque mass of sinew and bone that had been his body began to dissolve, streams of shadow tearing away from him in tendrils. He staggered, clawing at his chest, his guttural roars giving way to something deeper—a cry of agony that seemed to pierce the heavens.
And then, slowly, the shadows gave way to flesh. His twisted limbs elongated, reshaping into something almost elegant. His grotesque claws melted into human hands, trembling as if they were relearning their purpose. The hollow voids of his eyes filled with light, and for the first time in what felt like eternity, they were not empty—they were human.
As the darkness receded, so too did the agony. Jim collapsed to his knees, his chest heaving as the monstrous weight of his existence lifted. He felt air in his lungs, the warmth of blood coursing through his veins, the solid earth beneath his feet. The torment of being a beast, of existing as nothing more than hunger and rage, faded like a nightmare upon waking.
He blinked, his trembling hands rising to his face. Fingers brushed against skin—real, warm skin. He gasped, his touch trailing over the sharp lines of his jaw, the curve of his cheekbones, the hollowness of his eyes now replaced by something alive. Emotions he had long forgotten began to stir—confusion, fear, awe.
Then came the memories.
It was not a slow trickle but a violent flood, a torrent of images and sensations crashing into him all at once. He saw the life he had lost—the brutal attack that had broken him, the agonizing descent into madness, the moment his humanity had been ripped away. He remembered the pain, the desperation, the shame of becoming the monster that had stalked these woods. Every fragment of his past life returned, sharp and unrelenting, carving through his mind with the precision of a blade.
He screamed, the sound raw and broken, the cry of a man who had been shattered and remade. He clutched his head, his knees sinking into the blood-soaked earth as he struggled to contain the onslaught. Tears streamed down his face, hot and unfamiliar, cutting paths through the grime that clung to his skin.
Through it all, Shaun watched, his expression impassive. This was exactly what he had intended—a weapon reborn, honed to perfection but burdened with the weight of its own existence.
"Welcome back, Jim," Shaun said, his voice a chilling whisper.
Jim's gaze lifted, his newly human eyes locking onto Shaun's. There was no gratitude in his expression, only a simmering storm of emotions—recognition, despair, anger, and a fragile ember of something he couldn't yet name.
"Do you remember who you are? What you've become?" Shaun asked.
Jim's lips parted, his voice hoarse and trembling. "Yes… Master Shaun. I remember. I remember everything."
The words were a vow, a resignation. He was bound now, not by chains of flesh but by the pact that tethered him to the boy who had remade him. Jim's humanity had been restored, but at a cost—a soul chained to a master, a life bound to a purpose not his own.
Shaun's lips curved into a cold smile as he stepped closer, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Good," he said, his voice sharp as a blade. "How do you feel, Jim? Speak."
Jim hesitated, his chest rising and falling as he struggled to find words for the storm raging within him. His voice, raw and unsteady, finally broke the silence. "It's… like I've woken up from an incredibly terrifying nightmare. One so dark, so endless, that it felt like it would swallow me whole. To be free of it…" He paused, his hand brushing against his chest as though to feel the steady rhythm of his human heart. "It feels… nice. A warmth I thought I'd lost. And yet, I never want to experience that nightmare again."
His gaze darkened, flickering with a mix of resentment and reluctant gratitude as it fell upon Shaun. "I will never forget what you did to me, Shaun. The torment, the pain—it's etched into my very soul. You took me, twisted me into something monstrous, and made me live as a beast. But…" Jim faltered, his eyes drifting to the faint aura shimmering around him, shielding him like an invisible mantle. "You also gave me this—a second chance. You've pulled me from the abyss, and for that, I cannot ignore what you've done."
Jim's knees buckled, and he lowered himself to the blood-streaked earth. He knelt before Shaun, his head bowed, his voice steady despite the tremor in his hands. "I'll not forget the horrors, but neither will I forget the life you've returned to me. You've made my sorry existence… slightly better. And for that, I owe you more than words can express. I acknowledge it all, Shaun. Every cruelty and every mercy."
Looking up, his eyes burned with a mixture of resolve and surrender. "Consider me yours—a servant, a slave, bound by my own choice. I will serve you, no matter where it leads. Your will is my purpose now."
Shaun's smirk deepened into something colder, almost mocking, as he listened to Jim's declaration of loyalty. He let the silence stretch between them for a moment, letting the weight of his presence settle like a crushing force. Then, with a tone that dripped with scorn, he said, "Why is it that people like you always act as though you have a choice?"
Jim flinched, his head still bowed, but Shaun didn't stop. His words sliced through the air like a razor. "You've accepted my contract, haven't you? You've bound yourself to me, heart and soul, through your own actions. Or are you under some grand delusion that you're here by your own free will? That kneeling before me is some noble act of sacrifice?"
Shaun tilted his head, studying the kneeling figure with a detached curiosity. "And let's not pretend otherwise. All of this—your words, your kneeling—it's theater. A performance for someone who already owns you, body and soul. You say you'll serve me no matter where it leads?" He laughed, a low, chilling sound that echoed through the clearing. "Of course you will. Because you have no other option."
Jim's hands trembled at his sides, his newly human eyes filled with a mixture of resentment and resignation. Shaun crouched down, leveling his gaze with Jim's, his expression as cold and unyielding as stone.
"But don't mistake me for someone who cares about your submission or your gratitude," Shaun said, his voice a venomous whisper. "What you feel, what you want, what you think—none of that matters. you'll do what I say, not because you've chosen to, but because you must."
He straightened, turning his back on Jim, his tone softening into something almost dismissive. "So spare me your speeches about servitude and gratitude. They mean nothing to me. What matters is that you obey. And you will. Because you don't have the luxury of defiance."
Jim rose slowly, the weight of Shaun's words pressing down on him like an invisible hand. The storm of emotions within him churned, but he said nothing. There was nothing to say. The truth was as unrelenting as it was undeniable—he belonged to Shaun now, and there was no escaping it.
Shaun's cold expression twisted into something resembling amusement as he flicked his wrist, summoning a neatly folded set of dark, utilitarian clothing from umbra's inventory. He tossed it at Jim with a sharp motion, the bundle landing unceremoniously at his feet.
"Wear some clothes, you flasher," Shaun said dryly, his tone laced with biting sarcasm.
Jim blinked, momentarily stunned by the unexpected comment. His newly human face flushed with embarrassment as he glanced down at his bare, scarred body. For a moment, he felt utterly exposed—not just physically, but emotionally. His hands fumbled to pick up the clothing, and as he began dressing, he muttered under his breath, "You could've mentioned this earlier… Master."
He finished dressing, the dark fabric fitting snugly over his lean, newly human form. For a brief moment, he caught his reflection in a shard of broken glass lying amidst the carnage. The man staring back at him felt like a stranger—a reminder of everything he had gained and lost in the span of moments.
Before he could dwell on it further, Shaun's voice cut through his thoughts. "Come with me," he said, turning on his heel and gesturing for Jim to follow. "You've got your first job today."
Jim straightened, his jaw tightening as he fell into step behind Shaun. He didn't know what awaited him, but the weight of his new existence pressed down on his shoulders. Whatever this "job" was, it would be the first step in a path he could no longer avoid. And as much as Shaun's words stung, Jim couldn't deny the grim truth behind them.
As Shaun walked, his steps steady and deliberate, a sudden, electrifying sensation washed over him—a ripple of raw, untamed power that surged through the air like a thunderclap. He stopped in his tracks, his head tilting slightly as a faint smile curved his lips. "Oh?" he murmured, his voice laced with an almost amused curiosity. "Looks like Firecracker finally woke up."
Jim froze behind him, the weight of Shaun's words and the strange energy in the air pressing heavily on his newly restored senses. "Firecracker?" he asked cautiously, his voice tinged with unease. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Shaun didn't answer. Instead, his gaze swept across the dense forest around them, his sharp eyes narrowing as the ground beneath their feet began to tremble. Leaves rustled violently, and a strange, ominous heat filled the air, carrying the faint scent of scorched earth.
Before either of them could speak again, a deafening roar erupted, shaking the very foundation of the forest. The sound was primal, ancient, and filled with fury, reverberating through the trees and making the air itself feel alive with menace. Birds scattered in panicked flocks, and smaller creatures darted for cover as the roar tore through the silence like a jagged blade.
Jim stumbled back a step, his eyes widen with surprise as the oppressive energy thickened, pressing down on him like a physical weight. "What… what the hell was that?" he gasped, his voice barely audible over the echo of the roar.
Shaun's smirk widened, his expression alight with a mixture of anticipation and cold amusement. "That," he said, his voice calm amidst the chaos, "would be our little sleeping dragon who finally decided to wake up."
Shaun turned his head slightly, just enough to cast a glance back at Jim, whose face was filled with confusion. "Well," Shaun said, his voice dripping with irony, "looks like your first job little more interesting than I anticipated."