I’ve witnessed everything.

  Countless worlds—each a flawless mirror of the last. Though the threads of fate may weave slight variations in each soul’s beginning, their destination remains unwavering. Every path, no matter how divergent, folds back into the same inevitable terminus—destiny’s design, perfect and absolute.

  No detour, no rebellion, no miracle changes it.

  Yet…

  Even as these threads of life twist and coil, seemingly entangled in chaos, they all spiral back toward their single, undeniable truth:

  Life and Death.

  Beginning and End.

  Alpha and Omega.

  The old threads break, and from their frayed edges, new ones emerge—an endless procession of existence. A perfect Ouroboros, coiled within a sealed microcosm, endlessly devouring and birthing itself in solitude, hidden from the watchful eyes of the Outer Celestials.

  But even in perfection, corruption finds a way.

  From within this eternal loop, where time has no meaning, something foul bloomed—a malignance forged by eons of agony, hatred, and despair. A primordial aberration, birthed from cosmic exhaustion, flooding the Void with aberrant life that had no place in any divine plan. It sought not just intrusion—but dominion—sinking its claws into the heart of creation, cloaking parallel realms in the darkness that allowed its twisted spawn to multiply and infest.

  The Overseer—creator and custodian of all cosmic realms—though omnipotent, was blindsided. The entity, cunning and formless, drifted silently through the cracks of the Void, eluding detection until it was far too late.

  As uncountable worlds fell to the darkness, the Overseer—cornered and powerless—shattered his celestial soul. It fractured into twelve legendary beings, ancient forces once heralded during the Primordial Era, and gifted these fragments to the last embers of life that still defied fate. Chosen survivors were given impossible power, symbols of hope to challenge the tide and evolve beyond their fragile destinies.

  But the entity was not idle.

  It mimicked the sacrifice, embedding shards of its own malice into the very same emissaries. Light and dark bound together—each soul is torn between salvation and damnation, neither able to fully destroy the other.

  And with the last breath of his essence, the Overseer channeled every ounce of his mana to relocate what remained of life—transporting them to the Origin World, the very first Earth, shielding it with his lingering will. A final sanctuary suspended in time, away from the Void’s reach.

  But even this haven has limits.

  The veil weakens.

  Like stretched glass ready to crack, the growing darkness presses harder, inching closer to rupture. And when it does—the cycle will end.

  Not with rebirth… but with silence.

  "Aghhh!!"

  I jolted upright, heart hammering, breath ragged and hoarse. My lungs burned as if I had drowned, the cold from the cavern’s stream still clinging to my soaked skin. Disoriented and gasping, I blinked rapidly—trying to anchor myself back to reality.

  Was it a nightmare? Or something more?

  A vision… a memory... a warning?

  Still shivering, I forced myself to stand. My gaze drifted down to my arms—my gauntlets, once just weapons, now transformed into grotesque works of living art. Wicked ridges curved along their lengths, talons at each fingertip like forged obsidian claws. Two closed, slit-like eyes rested ominously atop each gauntlet, twitching faintly beneath sealed lids.

  "Mhm..."

  A sharp rustle nearby broke through my daze.

  "What was that?" My voice barely rose above the gurgling of the stream, every nerve in my body suddenly alert. I pivoted, straining to pinpoint the sound.

  Then I heard it.

  A voice—barely coherent, guttural, and rasping—"I... am... hun...gry..."

  It came from all directions, yet from nowhere. My skin prickled. And then—

  Agony.

  A searing pain exploded in my arms, sharp and savage—like a thousand tiny teeth gnawing through flesh. My blood spilled freely into the icy water, dark ribbons swirling away with the current.

  "Damn it—" I hissed, eyes wide in shock as I tried to tear the gauntlets off.

  But they wouldn’t budge.

  Black tentacles had erupted from within, winding up my arms like constricting serpents. My veins bulged, fighting their tightening grip. My vision swam.

  Then… the eyes opened.

  Each slitted eye glowed an unnatural crimson, brimming with an insatiable hunger and something worse—sentience. They stared at me, unblinking, like a predator who had just found its prey.

  No... not prey.

  Host.

  The gauntlet—my weapon—was alive. And now, it wanted more than blood.

  It wanted me.

  [Ting!]

  [You have taken 20 HP damage]

  But then—

  Enough was enough.

  "I’ve had it!!"

  With a roar, I slammed my knuckles into the rocky floor, followed by a flurry of brutal, earth-rattling strikes. Each punch echoed like thunder, vibrating through the cavern walls. The stone beneath me crumbled, forming a deep crater that quickly filled with the icy stream of water flowing around us.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Kneeling at the center, submerged to my chest in rising water, I let the cold rinse away the blood from my arms. The burning pain began to dull, and the furious ache was replaced with a dull throb as my wounds sealed themselves shut. My breath came out in shaky bursts as I raised my arms—trembling, soaked, and streaked with crimson.

  The gauntlets no longer glared with menace.

  Instead… their eyes now gazed upward with a docile glimmer. Submissive. Obedient.

  "You—what exactly are you?" I barked, my voice echoing with dominance, like thunder in the drowned chamber.

  "I… am… your weapon… brought to life through boundless flesh… blood… and soul," it murmured, the voice slithering from a hidden mouth beneath my palm, each syllable strained. Its crimson eyes looked up at me, shimmering with regret. "My deepest apology… for my outburst, my Lord. I… was overtaken by a primal hunger… too maddening to resist."

  My lips curled into a cold smirk. "You could’ve just asked, you know. I might’ve fed you my flesh and blood willingly."

  A flicker of childlike hope bloomed in its voice. "R–Really?"

  "But now?" I whispered, my tone icy. "Now, I don’t feel like it."

  It visibly quivered. My crimson eyes narrowed, slicing through its form like daggers. The tension between us thickened, sharp as broken glass.

  Trying to ease the rising dread, I tilted my head slightly and asked, “What’s with that way you talk? Like you're gasping every damn syllable.”

  The creature blinked slowly. “My Lord… it’s because… I drained all my energy during the upgrade. My evolution… was incomplete. If I consume enough… I can become whole.”

  Its eyes fluttered shut again, slipping in and out of a fevered slumber.

  My gaze drifted toward the grotesque corpse of my mother—bloated and silent on the cavern floor. A war raged inside me: disgust and grief clashing against cold necessity. Gritting my teeth, I stepped closer, pressing both palms to the body.

  With a sickening squelch, the slitted mouths of the gauntlets sprang open, revealing rows of interlocking, serrated teeth gleaming with anticipation. My fingers elongated, driven by an unseen will. Claws dug deep—ripping, tearing, shredding. Flesh parted like wet paper as the body was consumed, piece by piece, in a grotesque feast.

  Only bones remained.

  The hunger subsided.

  Then—a chime.

  [Evolution Completed]

  My theory had been right. No stat boost, but something more profound had awakened. The gauntlets’ voice, now smoother and more articulate, indicated their soul had fully coalesced—born from the gluttony of countless devoured spirits. It didn’t retain memories of the consumed, only their essence—a clean slate forged in blood and shadow.

  Now I bore three soul cores:

  —The primary, nestled within my own heart.

  —And two secondaries, pulsing within each hand, sustaining the sentience of my living weapon.

  A final notification flashed before my eyes:

  [You may now name your weapon. You can only do this once.]

  "A name... I had always called it Tiny Terror, half-jokingly."

  But in that moment, I remembered something different. A flash from my childhood—my fifth birthday. A tiny black puppy, its eyes bright, its bark full of boundless energy. A gift from my father. My first companion.

  My first hunter.

  With a steady breath, I extended my hand.

  "Hunter… come forth."

  Sheeeeerwk!!

  The gauntlet snapped to life, blackened steel rippling with raw energy, veins of crimson light pulsing beneath the surface. It responded—not just as a weapon—but as a partner.

  A beast is reborn.

  Dark threads coiled and twisted around the twin soul cores, weaving into an organic framework that swelled and morphed over my forearms. The sinewy tendrils thickened, pulsating like living muscle before abruptly hardening—each layer fusing into sleek, plate-like armor. What emerged was no longer a beast’s crude carapace, but a work of eldritch art: gauntlets of gleaming, deep crimson, their surface shifting with a subtle shimmer, as though reflecting light from a place beyond this world.

  The once-chaotic design had evolved—no longer savage, but sovereign. Sharp claws remained, though honed with purpose, elegant in form, and less ragged in the edge. An aura of silent majesty surrounded them.

  From their core, a pulsing rhythm reached into my mind—a faint thrum of interlinked awareness. A tether had formed, stitching our consciousness together through invisible threads.

  ["My Lord."]

  A voice, youthful and mischievous yet respectful, whispered inside my thoughts. Hunter had awakened, no longer just a weapon—but a companion.

  “Hear me, Hunter,” I spoke with authority, my tone firm as steel. “From this moment on, you eat only when I say so. Do your job, follow my rules, and you’ll never starve. Break my trust… and I’ll melt you down into slag and feed you to the forge. Understood?”

  The gauntlets trembled faintly—like a child caught red-handed.

  ["Y-Yes, my Lord."] came the obedient reply, small and wary.

  “Good.”

  I smirked slightly, then raised an eyebrow. “But why keep calling me ‘my Lord’? Kinda dramatic, don’t you think?”

  ["Because you are my creator. My very existence is owed to your will. Such reverence is... only natural."] The voice rang with devotion, even joy.

  “Huh… If that’s the case, why not call me ‘Father’? I did make you, after all.”

  A pause.

  ["That… feels a bit rude. But… if you command it, I would be honored, Fath—"]

  “—Yeah, Nah,” I interrupted with a dry chuckle. “Doesn’t sit right with me.”

  The silence that followed felt slightly… disappointed.

  With my newfound ability to shoot webs and cling to surfaces, escaping the cavern was effortless. Black threads zipped from my fingers, latching onto jagged rocks. I leapt upward, swinging and sticking, scaling the steep shaft toward the ceiling’s gaping maw.

  In my other hand, I clutched the severed head of my mother—a grotesque memento that deserved a final rite.

  Breaking through, I emerged into a thick forest once again. Towering, twisted trees loomed overhead, their crooked branches clawing at the sky. The distant roar of a waterfall drew me toward a pristine pond, hidden beneath the canopy and glistening with crystalline clarity.

  I dug a shallow grave beneath a stone outcropping and laid her to rest, the head gently placed upon her grave.

  “I’ll avenge you, Mom.” I murmured, pressing a fist to my chest before bowing in silence.

  With my mind heavy and my body caked in blood and slime, I dove into the pond. The cold embrace of the water hit like ice, shocking the breath from my lungs. The slime peeled away. Blood curled into red tendrils, drifting through the clear blue as I let myself sink, purging both filth and sorrow.

  When I surfaced, the world felt clearer. The memories I glimpsed through her soul core still lingered—heavy and strange. She wasn’t my mother. Not really. Just a replica. That revelation spared me from the crushing guilt... yet left behind an aching hollowness.

  Still, I knew what I had to do.

  Somewhere out there, my true counterpart existed. I could feel his presence like a gravity well—dense, suffocating, and seething with malice. A towering spire rose in the far south, piercing the clouds like a dagger aimed at the heavens. His aura pulsed from it like a warning bell.

  As for the strange visions—those fragments of celestial truth, of the Overseer and the corrupting entity—they weren’t random. Likely a side-effect from feeding the goo-infested soul core into my weapon. Residual echoes of a long-lost war.

  Whatever it was... I had a feeling this was only the beginning.

  "I've been questioning the true purpose behind my Morality stat for a while now," I murmured to myself, thoughts coiling like smoke in my mind. "And now, piece by piece, I see it for what it is... a reflection of my fractured psyche—torn between the lingering souls of two opposing forces."

  A clash of light and darkness gave birth to something… unnatural. Not champions of radiance, nor avatars of despair.

  No.

  We are Emissaries of Doom.

  Born from neither good nor evil. Yet, unlike others who’ve lost themselves, I managed to preserve my memories before the transformation. If that holds true, perhaps the other chosen still retain their sense of self—along with their moral compass.

  But therein lies the problem: there's no way to know whether they’ll rise as protectors of humanity... or its executioners.

  And then there’s that enigmatic voice—the one who forged the system itself. A creator? A jailer?

  Ally… or enemy?

  “I’ll have to tread carefully from here on,” I muttered, lowering my gaze into the still, reflective waters—understanding fully that I could trust no one but myself… and the creature bound to my flesh.

  “Hey, Hunter,” I said with a casual exhale, watching the wriggly little void-goblin lap water from my cupped hand like a cosmic puppy, “you got any juicy intel on those so-called gods and demons from the outer abyss or wherever?”

  ["Apologies, my Lord… I was only born yesterday. Literally. I know as much as a soggy mushroom. But! Feed me more of those strong Void-born freaks, and I’ll chew through their memory husks like jerky and spill everything. Pinky promise."]

  “Close enough,” I chuckled, flicking droplets off my fingers like I was blessing the forest with my presence. “Now that I’m squeaky clean and slightly less dead inside… let’s go find something to murder.”

  No more trembling. No more shame. What coursed through me now was hot, venomous revenge. I could still feel the sting of humiliation—those three monstrous bastards who treated me like a chew toy. Especially the multi-armed nightmare that played whack-a-mole with my dignity. It was time to return the favor. Loudly.

  I let out a roar that wasn’t so much a scream as it was a middle finger to the heavens. The shockwave exploded outwards, flooding the forest with a web of interwaves. Like sonar, but angrier. I felt the panic ripple—presences flinching and scrambling like rats in a lit pantry.

  “There you are.” I whispered, eyes gleaming, as I shot forward in a blur of red and spite.

  The first unlucky soul—a faceless humanoid trying to look mysterious—blinked into my path. Too bad. Before it could even go "grraugh?", I slashed clean through it. One swipe, and my living weapon slurped it into a maelstrom of gnashing teeth and vacuum-level hunger.

  Oh yeah. I was feeling it.

  Two more came charging: one a hulking slab of muscle with steam puffing from its pores like an overworked boiler, the other a twitchy, blade-limbed creep who moved like someone jammed too many frames into its animation cycle. These guys used to make me soil my soul.

  Now?

  I licked my lips.

  They were just next on the menu.

  I lunged forward, a living blur wrapped in violence. My fists hit with the subtlety of a meteor strike—ribs imploded, limbs spun the wrong way, and blood misted through the air like a morbid sprinkler system.

  The bulky one thought running was an option—how cute. It barely got two stomps in before I was already hugging its spine… with my claws. Intimately.

  The blade-limbed twitch machine tried to get fancy, backstepping with its arthritic ballet routine—until my kicks turned its kneecap into gravel. It shrieked, collapsed, and got vacuumed into the hunger pit I called Hunter. Bon appétit.

  What used to be a peaceful forest now looked like someone let a meat blender loose during a nature walk. Trees dripped red. Broken bodies dangled like grotesque ornaments. My health bar topped off, my XP budged a little, and my weapon… purred. Yeah. It purrs when it’s happy. That’s not terrifying at all.

  [You earned 100 experience]

  [You earned 100 experience]

  I cracked my neck with ease.

  "Now… for the main course.”

  There it was—the multi-armed nightmare that once used me as a chew toy, now lurking behind the trees like a guilty cat. Its thirty Voidling groupies trembled at its sides, suddenly realizing this wasn’t a party—it was a one-sided massacre. And they were just the appetizers.

  It hesitated like a rabbit caught redhanded.

  "Oh? Scared now? Should’ve thought about that before pulverizing me like a pi?ata!"

  “If you won’t come to me…” I grinned, eyes glowing crimson, “…then I’ll bring the storm to you!”

  Each step shattered the earth, each breath fogged with fury. I was faster than instinct, sharper than regret. I ripped through the crowd, a red comet of destruction. Bodies exploded on impact, torn apart like overripe fruit. Some Voidlings froze in confusion. Rookie mistake.

  I spun the severed head of the aberrant leader in my palm, its two surprised eyes locked forever in the universal expression for “oh crap.” With a little flair, I tossed it up—and my weapon snapped it out of the air like a treat.

  Crunch.

  The rest? Shredded. No mercy, no hesitation—just a symphony of splatter and bone-crunching satisfaction. Hunter danced around the carnage like a happy murder-snake, gnawing bones, slurping marrow, singing its weird little Void-born snack song.

  I scooped up the remains—cores pulsing, memories twitching in the aftershock, all fuel for what came next.

  Then I looked south.

  There it was. The tower. A jet-black spike stabbed into the horizon, exhaling dread with every cold gust of wind. It watched me intently,

  Good.

  “You just wait,” I murmured, stepping over corpses with the calm of a man who’d already committed to the madness. “I’m coming for you.”

  The shadows thickened, wrapping around me like a cloak.

  But I didn’t stop.

  The night is deep.

  And I…

  I am its sole Herald.

  Outer Celestials,

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  [Ting!]

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