Shadow Double Tap

Birmingham, Lower District, Hound Bar.

—The other side.

"Thump, thump, thump."

In the Blood Pool, Belloc's still-beating heart slowly dissolved, dying in the blood.

But a greater heartbeat resonated, answering it, trembling, growing clearer by the moment.

Until it was right beside them.

"Splash—"

The viscous liquid rippled as a wet, shapeless limb, like a slime, slowly emerged from the Blood Pool. It wrapped around Belloc's still-warm corpse, greedily devouring it and growing vigorously.

"Crunch, crunch."

The grating sounds of friction and sucking echoed beside the Blood Pool. The [Edge] Mark that had not yet been extracted from Belloc's body followed the connection between kindred things, smoothly merging into the shapeless limb and forming more complex patterns across its surface.

It was a hound's mouth, drooling and sharp, its fangs savage.

[Strife] and [Devour]—two ugly paths gnawing at each other—had given birth to the blasphemous creature before them.

The Blood Cup Cult's promised reward to Jim Belloc was fulfilled in a decidedly unpleasant way. The newly born Abomination eagerly tore apart the membrane of skin sealing its mouth and let out the first cry of its life.

"Hungry—"

The Second Seal, [Blood-Thirsty Hound], was born!

"Boss, the cops are about to... Aieeeee! There's a monster! A monster! Why is there a monster?"

A Hound Gang member was coming down the stairs to ask Belloc how to handle the scene. His foot slipped, and he crashed down beside the newborn monster with a terrified scream, utterly bewildered.

Beside the now well-named Bloodhound, the newly born "Belloc," a pale-red mist spread like a miasma. The unlucky Hound Gang member hurriedly inhaled a lungful of it. His reason was crushed by the primal fear rising within him. He wanted to run but couldn't move; even his fingertips twitched. Only his crazed screams echoed through the warehouse.

A harsh, discordant sound, painful to hear.

The "Belloc," whose shape was barely held together by the constraints of its Mark, shook its somewhat underdeveloped head and sniffed. One of its five arms casually seized the man by the feet and lifted him like a chick. Then it curiously bit into his still-screaming throat.

The scream abruptly stopped. Blood poured down like a spring, the taut body went limp, and the feet, one shoe missing, dangled helplessly.

"Ptooey!" "Belloc" spat out half a chewed skull, then disdainfully tossed aside the headless corpse in its hand. Like a canine, its moist nose sniffed the air.

The lingering scents on the wind rushed in, bringing a fresh direction.

—There's something tasty over there.

Its tongue, lined with layers of backward-facing barbs, slipped out. "Belloc" bounded forward on all six legs, taking somewhat clumsy strides.

It left a crooked trail across the steps and walls as it charged toward the upper floor—or rather, toward Horn—at full speed.

Its huge, twisted body moved with unimaginable speed. Its many limbs raced in alternation along the passage floor, making a chilling rustling sound.

Drool dripped incessantly from its mouth, streaming high into the air behind it. When it slapped against the rough walls, it made a faint sizzling sound.

It was an ugly thing, like a premature infant crawling out of someone's nightmare.

Perhaps it really was "premature."

[The First Seal is Temptation, the Second Seal is Devotion.]

Back in Roman times, a mentor of the Limia Cult had taught this to a newly initiated apprentice beside a river in Gallaecia.

The sun had been brighter then than it was now—not warmer, but even today, those words still held their power.

When an apprentice practicing the Formless Secret Arts gained the First Seal through Temptation and set foot on the transcendent path, they would instinctively seek out ever deeper, more alien power.

This was Devotion, like a moth flying into a flame—there was no return.

At the Second Seal stage, surging desire would partially transform the body, changing it into a new form. Uncontrolled transformation often meant losing control of one's power and descending into madness. Power would turn against reason, and the Mark would devour the body.

Thus, one became an "Abomination," a beast roaming the borderlands.

Combining the keen soul of a [Thug] with the mutated life force of [Grail] produced this wretched, hideous form.

The newly born [Blood-Thirsty Hound] waved its many limbs, yearning with all its heart and soul for a feast.

Six eyes of different colors stared together at the heavy iron door at the end of the corridor. Their pupils turned, brimming with endless anticipation.

Even with its muddled brain filled with hunger and bloodlust, Belloc could instinctively sense the steady beating of a heart behind that great iron door. So calm, so unafraid, so defenseless.

—The perfect prey!

Its muscles tensed. Its claws emerged. Its mouth opened wide.

It slammed into the door!

"BANG!"

A tremendous crash rang out. The walls trembled and dust sifted down from the ceiling. The cast-iron door protecting the smuggled goods did its job faithfully. It bent only slightly, remaining firmly attached to the frame.

A cause for celebration, if one overlooked the cracked, crumbling doorframe.

Riding the momentum of its charge, "Belloc" nearly smashed through the frame holding the door in place with a single blow!

Its keen hearing caught the heartbeat on the other side of the door, which had been steady until it suddenly paused for an instant. "Belloc's" restless hunting instinct swelled.

"Grrr—"

With a threatening growl, the pale-red mist spread through the warehouse ahead of it, seeping through the cracks and deepening its prey's fear with every breath...

Deepening what?

A colorless yet dazzling flame merely had to exist to make the approaching pale-red mist roil and dissipate. At its heart, something was already taking shape.

"Eeeee—"

The iron door, violently clawed at, twisted with an ear-piercing scrape. Looking at the narrow space inside the smuggling warehouse and the single passage before him, Horn wore a troubled expression.

So he raised a blade.

"Thump, thump, thump!"

Outside the door, the bloodthirsty monster rammed against it again and again. As the gap grew wider, its stomach, filled with acid and hunger, churned.

So delicious, so delicious, so delicious, so delicious—

"Belloc," certain of its victory, retreated a few steps and charged forward again, turning into a blur. But instead of colliding with the cold barrier it expected, it plunged straight into the warehouse. To its surprise, the prey waiting at the entrance wasn't trembling in fear. A makeshift speed bump, built from heaps of shelving, was.

Its limbs clumsily scraped along the floor, leaving deep gouges with their sharp claws, but the [Blood-Thirsty Hound] couldn't stop its momentum. It crashed into the trap Horn had hastily set up, its torso pinned beneath the shelving and its movements momentarily stilled.

But even the heavy shelves shook unsteadily under "Belloc's" immense strength, liable to topple at any moment. They couldn't hold it for long; the obstruction diminished with every breath.

Still, that was enough.

Seizing the opportunity, a figure slipped out from behind the open iron door and raced downward in a twisted posture that looked on the verge of slipping.

Running away may be shameful, but it works.jpg*2

As he ran, Horn's left hand hung limply beneath his sleeve. A winding stream of blood flowed down his wrist, leaving behind a fatal fragrance for the [Blood-Thirsty Hound].

Following the scent, "Belloc's" attention was drawn to a solid object lying defenseless on the storage-room floor, right at the edge of its reach and covered in blood.

After thinking for a moment with a brain no bigger than a walnut, "Belloc," with a feast right before it and its reason thoroughly blown away, dragged its mutated body out from under the toppled shelves. It bit down on the solid object and greedily licked up the trail of blood, its tough tongue whipping so fast it became a blur.

Tasty. Munch, munch. Fragrant. This stuff packs a punch. And it glows...

Wait, glows?

A strange, scorching heat came from between "Belloc's" lips and teeth. A mischievous little flame skipped joyfully along the trail of blood, meeting the ravenous [Blood-Thirsty Hound] halfway. In its warm, wet mouth, they shared the joy of a meal.

You're happy, I'm happy. Put two happy things together, and you get...

A happy explosion!

Only after reaching the Blood Pool and using [Flame of Destiny] to cauterize his bleeding wound did Horn finally have the strength to look at the card flashing with unstable white light on the simple screen before him.

Unlike its predecessor, black as dust, the fresh card depicted a milky-white solid. A line of glowing pure-white text appeared beside it.

[Apprentice's Explosive: A newly introduced contraband item, not yet added to the customs blacklist.]

[Aspect—Supplies: Limited, just like life. [Consumed upon use]]

[Aspect—Ember 4: ALITUR PROPRIIS IGNIS CINERIBUS (Fire is fed by its own ashes)]

"A brighter possibility..."

Horn couldn't say whether it was brighter, but one thing was certain—

Wind, wind, light, light!

Storage room.

At that moment, as "Belloc" prodded it with its barbed tongue, scorching wind and dazzling light burst joyfully out of its gaping mouth. A blinding sun rose from within "Belloc"!

"BOOM!"

The walls shook violently, and dust sifted down. The sound was like thunder, the light like sunrise. Horn stumbled, then simply dropped onto his backside beside the Blood Pool, which was on the verge of drying up. His expression was grave as he stared at the screen before him.

Please, big guy, don't come back to life. I'm scared.

Fortunately, even in his second life, Belloc had still been unable to transcend the limits of mortal flesh. After a long ten seconds, a notification finally popped up.

[Fate Deflection—]

[Ember, ablaze!]

Feeling [Flame of Destiny] grow stronger by a tangible measure, Horn sighed in relief. He brushed the dust that had just fallen onto his shoulder, then struggled to make his numb, aching legs move and pushed himself upright against the wall.

As long as it was still a creature made of flesh and blood, it couldn't withstand modern weapons. Perhaps once it had grown stronger, it might have survived the fatal injury of having its head blown apart, but the newborn [Blood-Thirsty Hound] clearly wasn't that tough yet.

After clinging to life for a little while with its tenacious vitality, "Belloc" kicked its legs twice and died on the spot.

—Shadow died twice.

A cause for celebration, a cause for celebration.

There was no way the Hound Gang could hide the conspicuous explosion that had just happened. Even if the police tried to turn a deaf ear and a blind eye, they would have to come investigate. As Horn started back toward the upper floor, he sincerely prayed that there was still a way out after the explosion.

He casually patted his sleeve, brushing away another little bit of dust shaken loose by his steps. Warmth still lingered before him, but the breeze blowing from behind was a little cold, making Horn shiver involuntarily.

He shivered and shivered, until his steady footsteps suddenly stopped.

How could there be wind in a basement?

"Thump, thump."

The death of a key figure had activated the final function. In the Blood Pool, which was on the verge of drying up, invisible raindrops fell, raising tiny ripples. The ripples joined into one, forming waves that rose and fell as they surged toward the hanging emblem.

Horn turned around stiffly. His crimson pupils were like a mirror, and in their glassy surface were reflected eyes, eyes, eyes... countless eyes.

Human eyes, beast eyes, fish eyes, bird eyes, insect eyes...

Slit pupils, horizontal pupils, compound eyes, photoreceptors...

Countless eyes hurriedly hatched from the emblem of the [Cup of Insatiable] and looked at Horn.

With curiosity and astonishment.

As if to say:

At last, we've found you!

Horn had had his share of outrageous dreams.

For example, everyone in the world becoming ten thousand times worse at alchemy.

At the alchemist exam, the respected mentor would still be teaching students the proper way to hold a test tube. Only he would rise casually, strike a match, and use its orange outer flame to light the wick of an alcohol lamp, stunning the entire room.

"What? He knows the long-lost method of lighting an alcohol lamp?!"

Even the white-haired alchemy master would slap him heartily on the shoulder, his face kind, praising him to no end:

"Excellent, excellent! You're a once-in-a-generation talent in alchemy! I'll do everything I can to cultivate you!"

From then on, he'd get promoted and make more money, achieve success and fame, usher in a new era, illuminate the technology of the future, and transform the world through his own efforts, leaving his name for posterity...

Even a thousand years after his death, clear-eyed college students would still stare at their textbooks in anguish, analyzing his offhand words and wracking their brains over reading-comprehension questions in the hope of scraping together a few extra points.

But what came next was even more outrageous.

On the screen, countless blood-red warning messages flashed past as window after window piled up and pressed against each other, their edges blurring.

[Analyzing...]

[Warning! Warning!]

[Distorted external "Grail" spirituality detected. Boundary formation initiated.]

["Grail" spirituality activity increasing. Critical threshold reached!]

[Final warning! Contamination source approaching. Estimated to be a Fifth-Rank Apostle!]

[Divine source detected. Analyzing...]

[Analysis complete. All attempts failed!]

Then what good are you?!

Horn closed the screen as its windows piled up like an avalanche, and this time he really couldn't hold it together.

In the Blood Tide, countless eyes blinked simultaneously, going from vacant to startlingly alert. Horn didn't need the screen's warning to know that something nasty had arrived.

And it was really nasty!