Another week had passed in the blink of an eye.

  But this time no one could be seen in the streets as the stars hung high in the sky.

  No, monsters. No human presence. Just nothing.

  Then—

  Swissh!

  The air went still.

  A gray-white mist flooded the roads like ocean waves. It was dense, extremely so, as it covered the streets in seconds and then wrapped around the buildings and towering structures as high as it could go.

  “Grrr!”

  Growls.

  A large number of them made the still air tremble as beings hiding in the dark started to come out.

  Their figures were dark, tall and covered in a greasy substance hard to understand.

  When they raised their head to look at the mist, which smelled like ashes, their eyes started to shake. A madness, a dreamlike state filled with whispers and sweet promises, seems to permeate their minds as they start to fall one after another.

  Some who could resist saw the streets suddenly become livelier. Though it was only briefly before they too fell on the floor.

  In the end no one saw a translucent figure, wearing a dark cloak to cover his body, starting to walk forward.

  When he did, the mist parted slightly, giving him space to walk freely.

  In both his hands, he held a plain copper jar.

  However, with its top opened, it now looked like a lamp, illuminating the dark. A dark, ashen-colored mist was raging inside it, ready to burst open.

  “Huff.”

  The man let out a shallow breath, his hands trembling and his face going an unhealthy shade of white as he took another step forward.

  As he moved, the mist followed after, engulfing his body like serpents.

  ‘A little more.’

  Asher thought as his silver eyes were turning bloodshot as veins started to appear on his head.

  He inhaled and walked faster this time.

  The ashen mist coiled on his legs and his fingers curled over the copper-tinted jar.

  A strong gust of wind made his cloak flutter and hair dance, but the ashen mist didn’t move an inch.

  The jar pulsed with a dim light.

  Thump!

  Thump!

  Thump!

  Asher's breathing hitched as his heartbeat got faster by seconds. He could feel his chest tremble and heart go cold.

  Hehe...

  Childlike laughter pressed closely to his ears, making his hairs stand on edge.

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  'Acosador. No, it's an illusion... remember, everything except me is fake.'

  Fake, yes.

  Only I am real.

  Asher kept his bloodshot eyes open, not closing them once.

  Below him, his shadow shivered like a stone had been thrown inside a pond.

  The spirit of shadow has chosen to accompany him.

  The others were not involved. They all had another role to play and stayed out of harm's way.

  Asher gulped as a dark, spiraling structure came into view. It loomed over the ruins like a grotesque monument, its form twisted and uneven. The building looked as though it had collapsed more than once—shattered pillars and fragments of once-towering walls had been swallowed into the spiral, becoming part of its warped, unnatural silhouette.

  This spiral structure—no, this towering castle—reminded him of the old tales where a tyrant king reigned from on high, ruling from a fortress his subjects had built brick by brick. A place where his will was absolute, where a single whim could shatter livelihoods and lives all the same.

  But here, in this place, the ruler was something far worse—an avenger whose subjects were not human at all but countless monsters marching to the rhythm of its whims. A being whose every impulse ignited war, turning the land itself into a battlefield.

  Thud!

  Thud!

  Suddenly the spiral castle trembled.

  Asher pressed his lips tightly. In his mind several faces flashed briefly. They consisted of his friends he had promised to send back home.

  He let out a sigh and his figure was engulfed in the ashen mist.

  "Grahhhhh!"

  A loud voice came as the air trembled with a corrosive light spreading across the land.

  Asher winced as his vision blurred—briefly—before sharpening again. Before him, the spiral castle's entrance yawned open like a beast's maw, its interior pitch-black save for intermittent flickers of ghostly blue light. The stench of burnt copper and rotting flesh spilled outward, clinging to the back of his throat, making him gag.

  The jar in his hands grew heavier, its pulsing rhythm synchronizing unnervingly with his own heartbeat. A voice—soft, familiar—whispered from within the mist curling around his wrists. "Almost there," it murmured, its tone sickeningly sweet. "Just a little closer."

  Asher chose to ignore them, all of them, in fact.

  His will forced his mind to remain calm no matter how much it rattled.

  All the voices belonged to him; they were his thoughts and ideas taking a twisted shape to tempt him.

  The street beneath his feet cracked as if responding, fissures spiderwebbing outward like black veins. From the gaps, something viscous and black oozed—not blood, but something thicker, darker, with the consistency of tar. It hissed upon contact with the mist, dissolving into acrid smoke that stung his nostrils.

  When the creature stepped out, Asher's eyes turned sharp and shone with a soft silver light.

  The creature stood tall, with limbs stretched like stretched leather, its elongated fingers twitching in anticipation. Its mouth—if it could be called that—was a vertical slit running down its featureless face, pulsing with an eerie, internal glow. Asher tightened his grip on the jar, feeling its heat sear into his palms. The creature didn’t attack immediately. Instead, it tilted its head, as if listening to something beyond human hearing.

  It was a story... a tale being conjured by human hands.

  Asher's mind weaved one like a spider web, a trap to catch an unfathomably large prey.

  The mist became denser according to his wishes and the whispers grew stronger.

  At the same time, the fallen monsters began to stand up. Their eyes were dimmer and poignant, evoking an unknown emotion in the avenger's heart.

  'A little more.'

  Asher repeated in his mind.

  "You have won."

  A voice came from the mist.

  Stir...

  A soft wind blew against the southerner's ruler face.

  The abomination didn't move.

  'More.'

  Asher thought before his hands started to shake uncontrollably.

  The copper-tinted jar inside suddenly darkened as if an inky black substance had taken the place of the storm brewing inside it.

  "You are the sole ruler of this city. Come here, let's celebrate this victory..."

  Another whisper echoed in the abomination's ear. This time it came with a seductive tone and a chill that made even Asher shiver.

  Its pupil shook before going dim, the bloodlust that had engulfed its terrifying frame calming momentarily like a serene sea.

  The streets were filled with cheers and joyful laughter, replacing the ashen mist.

  All the monsters stood in line, opening a way for the ruler of the southern domain to move.

  Asher's face now adorned a white faceless mask, thinning his presence more. It was an extra precaution he had taken in case he needed to escape.

  The ruler of the southern domain turned its head to look down.

  "Go... take your crown."

  Swissh!

  The ruler’s elongated fingers twitched before curling inward like a dying spider’s legs. Its slit face pulsed erratically, the internal glow flickering between blue and a sickly ochre. The whispers had sunk deep, wrapping around its consciousness like roots.

  The last straw had been pulled.

  The ruler finally moved, amidst the terrifying cheers and howls of monsters.

  'Got you.'

  Asher grinned.

  The ruler was moving in the direction he wished. To none other than the center of the city!