Saturday. 1:24 a.m.
Adrian adjusted the mask over his face and checked his battery levels one last time.
Phone — 92%.
Power bank — full.
External mic — stable.
Eight micro-cams — synced.
He stared at his own reflection in the dark dorm window.
Thirty seconds.
That was the cost.
Thirty seconds of bone reshaping.
Thirty seconds of organs being crushed and reforged.
Thirty seconds of vulnerability.
Cassian had been “nice” enough not to exploit that window.
A real enemy wouldn’t hesitate.
He ran through numbers in his head.
Hospital fight:
≈ 10 minutes full output before exhaustion.
Alley fight:
Wasted energy early. Burned too fast.
Conclusion:
Full aggression = short lifespan.
Sustained aggression = extended uptime.
Hit and run.
That was the model.
Short bursts. Reposition. Strike again.
And he had one major advantage.
This was his campus.
He had walked these routes thousands of times.
Every stairwell.
Every maintenance ladder.
Every shortcut between buildings.
Even if this ghost had lingered for a century—
She didn’t know the terrain like he did.
Adrian exhaled slowly.
“Alright chat,” he muttered softly as he began walking, livestream already active. “Tonight’s setup is structured. We’re not rushing.”
Comments flooded steadily.
“2AM LADY LET’S GOOO.”
“BRO IS ACTUALLY DOING IT.”
“Don’t die pls.”
He smirked faintly beneath the mask.
By 1:47 a.m., the grid was set.
He narrowed the suspected anomaly zone into a rectangular perimeter around:
- Humanities Wing
- Residence Street
- Adjacent finance buildings
Eight cameras.
North, South, East, West.
Rear alleys covered.
Blind spots minimized.
He positioned himself directly in the center, under a streetlight.
High ground access two buildings away.
Escape routes memorized.
To the stream, he whispered:
“This is the waiting period. Be patient.”
View count slowly ticked upward.
1.3k.
1.5k.
1.8k.
The city felt quiet.
Too quiet.
Then—
One by one—
His feeds flickered.
Cam 3 — static.
Cam 6 — distortion.
Cam 1 — dead.
Cam 4 — gone.
Cam 8 — signal lost.
Five cameras down in less than five seconds.
Adrian’s pupils narrowed.
He whispered:
“The hunt is on.”
Viewer count spiked.
2.4k.
The temperature dropped.
He felt it physically.
Cold air brushed against his neck.
The red in his eye flickered faintly—
But he didn’t transform yet.
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Too early.
He needed visual confirmation.
Comments flooded rapidly.
“BRO IT’S HAPPENING.”
“TEMP DROP???”
“Behind you.”
He scanned forward.
Nothing.
Chat exploded.
“DUDE LOOK BEHIND YOU.”
“TURN AROUND.”
“RIGHT BEHIND YOU.”
Adrian spun.
Eyes fully red.
Nothing.
Then—
All the streetlights shattered simultaneously.
Glass bursting in a chain reaction.
Darkness swallowed the campus.
Only his phone screen glowed in the void.
His breath fogged faintly in the cold air.
Dark energy.
Everywhere.
Diffuse.
Like mist.
He grabbed his equipment bag.
No hesitation.
Sprint.
He vaulted toward the nearest building and began climbing the maintenance ladder.
As he climbed—
He began transforming.
Bones cracking.
Skin hardening.
Muscles tearing and reforming.
He clenched his teeth to muffle the sound.
Thirty seconds.
He needed elevation.
Needed vision.
This demon was intelligent.
Cameras destabilized.
Lights destroyed.
Energy diffused to blind his supernatural sight.
Everything countered.
Before the fight even began.
He reached the rooftop as the final layer of demonic plating sealed over his body.
Breathing steady.
Heart stable.
He scanned.
Nothing visible.
Just darkness and cold.
Then—
Chat replayed in his head.
Behind you.
If it was behind him—
Why didn’t it attack immediately?
He flexed his right arm slightly—
And felt it.
A sting.
Minor.
Behind his right arm.
He looked.
A thin scratch.
So shallow he barely noticed it.
But from it—
Dark mist leaked.
His own.
A thin stream drifting downward toward the street.
His eyes widened.
A mark.
It didn’t attack.
It tagged.
The demon was cautious.
It knew he wanted first strike.
So instead—
It made sure it could track him later.
Clever.
Very clever.
Before he could fully reposition—
White shapes erupted from below.
Multiple tentacles.
Smooth.
Pale.
Each ending in circular mouths lined with rotating razor teeth.
They shot upward toward him.
He stepped back—
Foot slipped on loose gravel.
The rooftop edge vanished beneath him.
He fell.
The world inverted.
Wind roared past his ears.
He hit the pavement hard.
The impact cracked asphalt.
Pain shot through his spine.
He forced himself upright.
Across the street—
She walked.
White skin stretched unnaturally tight.
Long black hair covering half her face.
Her mouth—
Too wide.
Extending almost to her ears.
Rows of layered teeth clicking softly.
Tentacles retracted slowly behind her like obedient limbs.
She tilted her head slightly.
The scent trail of his leaking energy drifted.
But the source remained still.
She walked toward it.
Slow.
Deliberate.
No rush.
She reached the rooftop drop zone.
Looked down.
There—
An entire demon arm.
Severed.
Still leaking energy.
The one she marked.
She stared at it.
Processing.
But something was wrong.
One finger missing.
Specifically—
The middle finger.
A sharp sound cut through the silence.
A blade of bone slicing flesh.
The entity jerked forward as a deep gash tore across her back.
Black ichor sprayed onto the pavement.
Behind her—
Adrian.
Human form.
Breathing hard.
His right arm intact.
In his left hand—
A hardened demonic middle finger, reshaped into a jagged dagger.
Since when did he retrieve his transformation?
He smirked through blood-streaked lips.
“Hit and run,” he muttered.
He had severed his own arm mid-fall.
Forced de-transformation.
Regenerated the limb during reversion.
Sacrificed the marked piece.
Left a decoy.
Dropped from rooftop as bait.
The entity let out a distorted shriek.
It wasn’t a wandering ghost.
It was a predator.
And it had just miscalculated.
For the first time tonight—
Adrian felt something steady.
Not fear.
Not ego.
Adaptation.
“Your move,” he whispered.