Just as Ronan was about to step out of the shadowy temple, something caught his eye. He froze, his breath hitching.
The air around him grew heavier, charged with a palpable sense of dread.
A strange shape loomed at the far end of the exit, a hulking, twisted figure that seemed to shift unnaturally in the dim light.
Its body was covered in mottled, sickly gray scales, and from beneath its misshapen hood, something... wrong protruded—an endless mass of twitching tendrils that writhed in a rhythm no living creature should have.
The very sight of it made Ronan's skin crawl.
The creature's head, barely recognizable as anything human, was completely smooth and featureless, save for two gaping, black voids where eyes should have been.
Despite the emptiness of its face, Ronan could feel its presence, like the air itself was drawn toward it, suffocating everything in its wake.
His heart pounded in his chest, a drumbeat that reverberated through his entire body.
The creature's movements were slow, deliberate, as if it were listening to something far off in the distance, but it didn't seem to notice Ronan— yet.
The silence in the alley was deafening, the stillness broken only by the occasional flicker of a nearby lantern, casting trembling shadows that seemed to dance on their own accord.
But then, without warning, the creature's head snapped toward him.
Ronan's blood ran cold. He didn't move, not even a fraction of an inch. He reminded himself, with a voice colder than his racing heart :
'It can't see...'
The words echoed in his mind, steadying his nerves, but even as he held his ground, his stomach twisted in anticipation.
The creature took a step forward, its bloated, malformed limbs scraping across the stone ground. The sound was a grating, wet noise, like something scraping against bone.
A shiver ran down Ronan's spine, but he stayed motionless, every muscle taut, waiting for the right moment. The creature's head tilted to one side, and Ronan felt its attention sharpen.
It was listening.
Now was his chance.
He focused on the soft vibrations in the air, felt the currents of energy flow between him and the creature, and activated [Whisper].
His voice, low and eerie, carried through the empty space between them, soft yet sharp like a blade in the dark.
"Turn... go left..."
He willed the creature to obey, to follow the simple suggestion. The creature's head jerked slightly, as if reacting to something.
Ronan let out a breath, believing for a moment that his trick might succeed. But then...
The creature's head snapped again—directly toward him.
Ronan's blood ran cold as the black voids of its face seemed to focus, its unnatural instincts kicking in.
Despite its blindness, it could sense him. Its entire body froze for a split second, and in that instant, Ronan realized the creature wasn't just reacting to sound—it was aware.
The silence shattered as the creature's claws scraped the stone with terrifying speed, its body launching forward with sickening swiftness. Ronan barely had time to react before a foul stench filled the air, the rancid breath of the creature blasting across his face.
Ronan's heart raced, his pulse thundering in his ears. He stumbled backward, narrowly avoiding the creature's jagged claws, which slashed through the air where he had been standing only a moment ago.
The thing shrieked, a guttural, bone-chilling sound that vibrated the very walls around them, and lunged again, its twisted body surging forward with ferocity.
Ronan's mind raced. He hadn't anticipated this level of instinct, hadn't counted on the creature's unnatural awareness.
His hands trembled as he prepared to use [Whisper] again, this time desperate to trick it into turning—into giving him a chance to escape.
As the creature's head swiveled toward him once more, its cold, lifeless gaze locked onto Ronan with a bone-deep certainty.
The air thickened, suffocating him with an overwhelming sense of terror. Its sightless eyes seemed to pierce through him, as though it could sense every pulse of his heartbeat, every breath that caught in his throat. In that moment, Ronan understood—he was no longer in control.
His hands shook, but his resolve hardened.
'I can't let it win. Not now.'
Gritting his teeth, he gathered every ounce of willpower he had left and activated [Whisper] again. His voice, low and venomous, rippled through the air with chilling precision:
"I'm more dangerous than you."
For a fleeting second, the creature froze, its monstrous form twitching as if the words had reached some deep, primal place within it. The hesitation was brief—only a heartbeat—but it was all Ronan needed.
Without thinking, he seized the opportunity, his hands trembling as he reached for his makeshift weapon: a jagged stick with a rusted, rotten knife tied to its end.
In one swift motion, he plunged the blade into the creature's eye socket.
The impact was sickening—flesh, bone, and pus splattered out in a grotesque spray, the stench of rot filling the air. The creature let out a screech so deafening that it seemed to shake the very foundations of the room.
The sound scraped at Ronan's ears, like a thousand nails against a chalkboard, but he didn't flinch.
"The pain will worsen," he whispered coldly, letting the words cut through the air like a blade of their own.
The creature recoiled, stumbling backward with a guttural hiss, its body twitching in a desperate attempt to escape the agony.
Ronan's eyes never left it—he had no time for hesitation. This was his chance.
With a grunt, he seized a heavy stone from the broken pillar nearby, its jagged edges digging into his palms as he gripped it tightly. His heart pounded, but the adrenaline thrumming through his veins dulled the fear.
He rushed forward, muscles burning, his eyes locked onto the creature.
The monster seemed to sense the incoming danger. It jerked back in an instinctive, frantic motion, its limbs scrambling to put distance between them.
But Ronan was faster.
He couldn't let it get away.
With a deep breath, he activated [Whisper] one last time, focusing every ounce of his energy into the words.
"Don't run."
The words sliced through the air with unnatural sharpness.
The creature froze, its movements stuttering for a brief moment as it hesitated, caught in the whisper's grip.
But the pause was brief—too brief. Ronan's heart raced as he swung the rock with everything he had.
But something was off. His voice had been weak, and the creature's fear of the pain was greater than the influence of his whisper. It pulled away, just in time to avoid the crushing blow.
With horrifying speed, the creature crawled backward, its twisted limbs pushing it along the floor in a desperate, painful retreat.
Its body contorted in ways that should have been impossible, and Ronan could hear the ragged, panicked breaths it took as it scrambled to escape the torment he had inflicted upon it.
Ronan's breath came in harsh gasps, his chest heaving as he stared down at the retreating monster. His hands tightened around the rock, but he didn't follow.
He knew the creature was more dangerous than he had anticipated, and the last thing he needed was to get caught up in a battle he wasn't ready for.
The creature's screeches faded into the distance as it crawled into the dark corners of the room, its body still trembling from the pain, its fear palpable in the air. Ronan stood still, watching it disappear, his heart still racing, his mind whirling with the close call.