All Flames Have Their Fuel

Sal Ammoniac, the miracle of Ammonia, sacred salt precipitated from the sacrificial flames of temples.

The alchemists of the Shadowless Empire devoutly offered it alongside frankincense and ambergris before Anahita's altar, waving pomegranate branches dipped in honey as they prayed for abundant harvests and prosperity.

And now, ammonia water compounded from it was also a common sight on alchemists' workbenches, often used to neutralize excess acid and achieve a "sacred union."

But surprisingly, few alchemists bothered to investigate its origins, and no one worshipped it as a miracle anymore. Every Apprentice who knew where it came from kept their lips sealed. Yet even today, it still ensured bountiful harvests from every patch of farmland.

In Horn's previous life, people had called it by a far simpler name.

Concentrated ammonia!

The smell was overwhelming. Nothing more needed to be said.

The pungent stench of a toilet spread through the air, even overpowering the fresh scent of blood. The tangled odors made Horn's stomach churn.

The other side had it even worse.

"AAARGH—BLEGH—"

Perhaps it was the backlash of her enhanced sense of smell, but the ammonia water hit the mutated woman even harder than it hit Horn. Clutching her face, she screamed as snot and saliva poured out, mixing with the blood on her face and making her look even uglier.

—Holy water exorcism, chemical edition!

Horn would not waste such a perfect opportunity. In three quick strides, he grabbed the heavy copper candlestick he had noticed earlier. Gritting his teeth, he swung with all his strength, the wind howling around it as it smashed toward her head!

Thud!

Flesh and bone collided viciously with the metal candlestick, yet it sounded as if it had struck a wall—a solid, dull impact. Caught off guard by the recoil, Horn failed to keep hold of the handle. His palm split open, and the candlestick flew from his hand!

The copper candlestick, which could have shattered an adult man's skull, merely peeled back the skin of her forehead along with the thick hair rooted in it, exposing her pale skull. Visible to the naked eye, spiderweb-like cracks spread across her skull beneath the force of that blow.

A strike that would have given an ordinary person at least a severe concussion could not knock her out. She seemed to be acting entirely on instinct, completely ignoring the damage to her brain.

Blood vessels even crawled across her skull, slowly healing the wound.

She's this tough?!

Several drops of blood splashed from Horn's torn hand onto the woman's face. Ignoring the injury on her head, she bared her teeth and licked at them. The moment she tasted the blood, her entire body trembled, and she shrieked excitedly.

"Quick, quick! Give me more, give me more!"

"Sure, sure, sure. Keep screaming and I'll give you another punch!"

Panting as he backed away, Horn snatched up a chair and threw it at her. Using the time it bought him, he bolted for the door as if his life depended on it.

With an excited growl, the woman's pupils dilated to their limit, the scarlet within them deepening further. On all fours, she sprang toward him again in a twisted posture, her teeth gleaming.

Tap.

Her limbs tensed as she pounced at Horn's back with absolute certainty. Her muddled mind was already imagining how she would tear into him, swallow him, and savor that sweet, tempting blood.

Then her eyes widened in shock.

Horn abruptly stopped short of the door. As though he had eyes in the back of his head, he avoided her again by a hair's breadth. Leaping into the air, he kicked her squarely in the waist, the place where she could exert the least force, sending her flying.

It was nothing but instinctive reflexes, as though he had done it tens of thousands of times before.

Smooth and effortless.

Even though the world had suddenly turned fantastical, most physical laws still did their job faithfully. Supported by Newton's three laws of motion, no matter how bizarre she was, the woman had no point of leverage in midair and was kicked solidly off balance, flying sideways.

She hit the ground with a heavy crash, slamming sideways into the rack beside the entryway and knocking it over. For the moment, heavy clutter pinned her down, leaving her unable to move.

Rather than taking the chance to run, Horn bent down and stared into her scarlet, muddled eyes.

"You... smell... eat... hungry, urrgh..."

A suffocating sensation seized her throat, cutting off her words. She looked up to see a pale young face, drained from exhaustion, gazing down at her. A faint orange-red glow flickered in his pupils, briefly clearing her muddled mind.

Deep in her memories, she recalled the person she had met at the bar—the one who had given her "Crimson Nectar" and guided her toward true appetite and pleasure. When that person had performed miracles, a similar light had flickered in their eyes, only brighter and of a different color—

But Horn merely wanted to kill her.

Using his stronger right hand to grip the woman's throat, Horn did not care why she had gone blank. Gritting his teeth, he suppressed her struggles. Taking advantage of her open mouth, he poured every last drop of the second potion stored in his waist pouch down her throat.

Its name was Etching Oil, the eldest son of the three sacred elements of Alchemy, the index finger of the Philosopher's Hand, liquefied green vitriol—or, to put it more plainly—

I'm pouring concentrated sulfuric acid down your throat!

Flesh and blood had their limits after all. Corrosive acid fumes billowed from the woman's mouth as large patches of mucous membrane charred and cracked. Her hands twitched uncontrollably, her nails scraping white marks across the floor, until they finally fell limp.

Critically wounded!

Before Horn could even breathe a sigh of relief, his expression suddenly froze.

"Heh heh heh..."

She let out a wounded roar, yet it also sounded like the cry of a newborn. As though she had crossed some threshold, the woman beneath him began struggling violently once again. Scarlet surged through her open eyes, like ink dropped into clear water, drowning all humanity and emitting a faint red glow.

Even with her entire mouth charred, the woman still opened wide and bit into Horn's shoulder. The blackened skin inside her mouth peeled away, exposing writhing flesh buds that slowly repaired her injuries.

Putting forth all his strength, Horn twisted the woman's neck and pinned her firmly to the ground. Yet even after he heard the crack of breaking bones, even as her neck bent at an angle that would have snapped an ordinary person's neck on the spot, she remained full of life and kept struggling.

How did you break through in the middle of a fight too?

I can barely hold her down!

Horn felt as though he was not restraining a petite woman who weighed barely a hundred pounds, but wrestling a wild beast. One moment of carelessness, and the starving beast would tear him apart and swallow him whole.

Unconcerned with injury, unconcerned with pain, even her fatal wounds slowly healing, the monster showed no weakness at all. Driven by alien desire, she was gradually breaking free of the limits of being human and pursuing something more perfect.

Question: what could be worse than knocking on a neighbor's door and discovering a starving monster that happened to love your flavor?

Horn would tell you.

Yes. Discovering there were two of them!

Behind Horn, the dead man's fingers suddenly twitched. His long-silent heart swelled by a size, his blood vessels bulging into a suffocating dark purple as they began pumping scarlet, viscous fluid once more.

As if he wanted a share as well, he shakily sat up. The same scarlet covered his eyeballs, leaving them utterly muddled.

"Roaaar—"

With a garbled roar, the resurrected man clumsily used his limbs and crawled toward Horn in a ridiculous manner.

No, big brother, she killed you! Debts have their debtor—don't come chewing on me, go chew on her!

Apparently unable to hear Horn's tearful plea, the man followed his muddled instincts and staggered toward the most delicious creature before his eyes, drawn by the precepts of [Grail].

Mad struggling came from in front, while foul breath rushed at the back of his neck. Attacked from both sides by this wretched pair, out of ammunition and out of options, Horn finally abandoned all human restraint. It was as though the mask that had long been tightly bound to his face had been set ablaze, freeing the truest self beneath it.

Completely insane!

"You both like eating, huh? Then let me see what you taste like!"

Stretching out his neck, Horn viciously bit into the woman's throat beneath him, tearing off a chunk of still-pulsing flesh!

Warm, sticky, rank—the iron taste filling his mouth spread through him. Parasite-like scarlet seeped into his flesh and blood, spreading through his body, irreversibly corroding, infecting, assimilating...

Assimilating what again?

On the automatically appearing panel, twisted words fell like raindrops.

[Analyzing...]

[Detected proliferating "Grail" spirituality within the body that can serve as fuel. Ignite?]

Was there even a second choice?

Of course, YES!

Within Horn's consciousness, colorless flames slowly awakened from slumber. Even after burning away all the scarlet infection delivered right to his doorstep, the greedy nature of the flames still craved more.

Unconsciously licking his lips, Horn looked at the wretched pair, their bodies covered in red dots beneath his spiritual vision, and felt a strange hunger.

If something has to burn, why can't it be you two?