Every Trick in the Book

"Bang, bang, bang!"

Urgent knocking echoed through the hallway.

Horn threw on some clothes, making sure to strap on the potion pouch issued by the Alchemy Academy and stuff two defensive potions inside.

Storming into the hallway in a rage, Horn carried the murderous aura of someone deprived of sleep. He hammered his knuckles against the wooden door, venting the sudden irritation and fury in his heart.

"Could you keep it down a little? You're way too loud..."

"Huh?"

The barely shut door swung open at the knock. Splashes of crimson choked off the rest of Horn's rebuke, and the remaining drowsiness was utterly blown away by the shocking sight before him.

Before him was not the impatient young couple Horn had imagined getting down to business right there. They had not even taken off their clothes; they were merely entwined in each other's arms in the corner.

Entangled in a deathly embrace.

That was, if one ignored the scent of blood already spreading through the room.

In the corner, the man lying on the ground had his neck bent at an unnatural angle. The woman in a somewhat revealing dancer's outfit crouched over him, bracing herself with both hands on the floor. Her neck stretched out as she buried her head in his throat like the most intimate of lovers, her shoulders rising and falling.

Even with his throat torn open, the man still wore an intoxicated expression. A delighted smile remained on his blood-drained face, though it was gradually turning pale and losing its former vitality.

He had died in a pleasant fantasy.

"Haah..."

At the sound of knocking, a face smeared with blood and bits of flesh lifted from the man's neck. Her once-proper features were now twisted like a demon's.

In eye sockets sunken deep like those of a consumptive, the once-azure pupils had been soaked crimson into an eerie shade, revealing inhuman hunger and madness.

As Horn prepared to close the door as if nothing had happened, the "woman" sniffed hard, bared her teeth, and made a weak smacking sound.

Within those clouded eyes was pure appetite.

She was here to kill him!

The instant Horn shut the door, the instant that realization struck him, that thing which might no longer have been human—lunged! straight! at! him!

Fast. Far too fast.

Like a tiger pouncing on an antelope, a foul wind swept toward him. The sense of danger crashing into his face made Horn instinctively twist aside, every hair on his body standing on end.

"Crack!"

The thin wooden door used as a shield was pierced by her sharp, mutated fingers. Her ten fingers clenched violently, tearing open a savage gash as wood chips scattered everywhere. The cold wind whipping through it stung Horn's cheeks.

Was that still human?

Caught off guard, Horn chose to fight while retreating. Taking advantage of the brief moment while the woman was blocked by the door, he flung it aside, quickly circled behind her, and stepped into the entryway amid her frantic shrieks.

Rather than play a deadly game of chase with a monster in the hallway, Horn decided to bring the battlefield home.

"Crack, crack, crack, thud!"

A series of breaking sounds came from behind him. The final dull impact sent a chill down Horn's spine. Aside from cursing his landlord for being so cheap that he would not even install a sturdier door, Horn felt only a strange sense of release as his worldview shattered.

Zombies? A plague? Some kind of atavistic impulse? It couldn't be a bad trip, could it?

A jumble of thoughts buzzed and collided in his mind, piling higher and higher, ready to collapse. They battered against the worldview known as "Horn," exposing the instincts beneath it bit by bit.

Then a large hand swept through them, brushing the mountain of stray thoughts into a trash heap marked "To Be Destroyed."

Inside his consciousness, a roaring crematorium furnace started up, smelting every thought into one.

Hehe, I want to live!

Unaware of the faint orange-red light flickering in his pupils, Horn curled his lips and silently mocked fate.

This damn world had finally gone insane.

Which suited his own madness perfectly.

In the entryway, the strange woman crouched atop what had once been the door. She extended a tongue thinner and longer than any normal person's, licking the wound the door had scraped across her arm. Her forked tongue tip was stained crimson.

Hands and feet, joints and bones, fangs and claws.

Inhuman traits proliferated and mutated across the woman's body, sketching out bizarre patterns. Just a tiny bit more—an utterly negligible fraction—and those spreading patterns would link together completely, truly forming a Mark.

Staring straight at Horn, the woman's mouth curled upward and opened wider and wider, already surpassing the limits of what her muscles should allow. A crack tore open along both sides of her cheeks, and thick crimson blood dripped down, adding another stain to the cheap carpet.

She was already drooling with hunger!

"Ha... fragrant. You smell so good. Hehe."

The muscles in her limbs tensed, and beads of blood seeped from the pores across her skin. Driven by immense strength her small body should not possess, she shot toward Horn along a nearly straight arc!

He could still dodge!

Though her charge was ferocious, the monster driven by hunger had clearly lost all sense of technique. The moment she lowered herself, Horn had already predicted her path.

He bent backward in advance, ignoring the clicking protests of his spine, and narrowly evaded her again. At their closest, those mutated claws were less than a hair's breadth from Horn's face. The gale they kicked up made him squint instinctively, his cheeks aching.

"Clang!"

Her attack missed again. Unable to find leverage in midair, the woman flailed helplessly as her immense momentum carried her toward the makeshift dining table behind her. She smashed it in half at the center, sending the pots, bowls, and utensils on top flying in every direction amid an endless clatter.

Having dodged that pounce by luck, even Horn had to understand by now.

That was why she had ignored the meat lying on the ground—she had set her sights on this fresh piece of meat instead!

Seriously, was she that fickle?

Shaking off that stray thought, Horn took a deep breath and threw the ethics and morals tested in theory class to the wind. His right hand reached for the pouch flung behind his back, feeling around without drawing attention.

His fingertips touched cool glass. Confirming the familiar texture, he gripped it tightly. Horn raised his hand and aimed at the humanoid monster on all fours amid the wreckage, still catching her breath.

Then he hurled it with all his strength!

Perhaps insensitive to inanimate objects, the woman merely crossed her eyes stupidly and stared blankly as the potion flew through the air in an arc toward her face, drawing closer and closer.

What is this?

Can I eat it?

If Horn could hear her thoughts, he would surely give her a solemn answer.

It's a wonderful little tool we'll be using in a moment!

It struck dead center. The colorless, transparent liquid burst outward with the shattered glass, splashing into those beastishly hungry eyes with the powerful stench of camel dung.

"Aaaahhh—!"

Every trick in the book—this was Alchemy!