The city looked different at night.
Or maybe he was different.
Mike's steps echoed along the wet pavement. Streetlights buzzed overhead, casting long shadows that shifted when they shouldn't. His heart beat with a rhythm that wasn't entirely his—like the monster still whispered through his veins.
He turned down an alley, instinct guiding him. The same kind that had saved him in the last fight. The shadows bent slightly ahead, not from light—something else moved through them.
He wasn't alone.
A figure stood at the far end. A girl, maybe a little older than him, leaning against the wall like she'd been waiting. Her eyes shimmered faintly, catching the light in a way that made his skin crawl and settle at the same time.
"You felt it, didn't you?" she said. Not a question. A statement.
Mike froze.
She stepped forward. Her coat brushed the wall, leaving frost where it touched. "The monster didn't just die. It gave you something."
Mike narrowed his eyes. "How do you know that?"
She held up her hand. A pulse of blue light flickered across her palm. Not fire. Not electricity. Something older, colder. Like the void between stars.
"Because it happened to me, too."
Mike stared, the pieces clicking together too fast. "There are more of us."
"More than you think," she said. "But fewer every time the Loop resets."
Her gaze sharpened. "You're new. That means they're going to come for you."
Mike clenched his jaw. "Let them."
The girl's expression didn't change, but something in her relaxed—just slightly. She nodded once. "Good."
"Then help me," Mike said. "I want answers. I want out of this."
She looked up at the sky, where the clouds rippled like something breathed behind them. "Then you'll need more than answers. You'll need to become something else."
Mike looked at the faint crackle of energy still dancing along her fingers, then at his own hands. No glow. No sign. But inside, something pulsed—ancient, growing.
He didn't know what he was turning into.
But he wasn't turning back.
They called the place The Hollow.
It wasn't marked on any map. Just a shattered building beneath the city, hidden beneath rusted grates and old service tunnels. Mike followed the girl—Rya, she finally told him—through the maze of shadows until they stepped into the open chamber.
Faint sigils lined the cracked stone. Each pulsed with dim, flickering light—red, blue, green, gold—like echoes of things long dead, still refusing to fade.
"This is where the first loop-bearers trained," Rya said. "Back when there were dozens of us. Maybe hundreds."
Mike ran his fingers across one of the markings. Heat surged into his hand. Pain followed, sharp and sudden. He pulled away.
"You're still raw," she said. "The monster gave you power, but it's not yours yet. It fights you."
"Then how do I control it?"
"You don't. Not at first. You survive it."
She stepped into the center of the room. Her coat dropped away, revealing jagged scars across her arms. Some shimmered faintly, pulsing in time with the sigils.
"The monsters you kill," she said, "leave behind more than memories. They mark you. Change your blood, your nerves. You're not fully human anymore."
Mike felt his pulse quicken. "Then what am I?"
Rya tilted her head, studying him. "That's up to you."
She raised her hand. Darkness spilled from her palm, forming a curved blade of shifting light and shadow.
"Let's see what you've learned."
Hours later, Mike lay on his back, chest heaving, arms shaking. Sweat dripped down his face. His skin burned where the energy had fought him, refusing to obey.
"You're holding back," Rya snapped. "You're still thinking like a person with rules."
"Because I am!"
"No. You're a weapon now. Act like one."
He sat up slowly, fists clenched. "Why did the monsters give us this?"
She paused. Her eyes shifted, not looking at him—looking through memory.
"Before the loop, there was something worse. The monsters were part of a seal. Killing them weakens it. But they knew we couldn't resist the power they left behind. That's how it spreads—through us."
Mike's heart dropped. "So every time we fight… we're making it worse?"
"Or better." Rya stepped forward, hand extended. "Depends who wins."
Mike stared at her palm, the flickering light playing across it.
He reached out—and took it.
The Hollow trembled.
Mike felt it before he heard it—a deep pulse in the stone, like something ancient waking beneath his feet. Rya froze mid-step. Her shadow blade flickered out.
The heck ? MIKE said
"That's not part of the training," she whispered.
From the far end of the chamber, a light bloomed. Pale gold. Soft, almost warm. But it moved like no light should, curling like smoke, drifting with purpose. As it neared, it took shape—not smoke. Feathers. Dozens of them, too long, too sharp. And behind them, a face. Hollow. Faceless. Wearing a crown of broken glass.
Rya stepped back. "Censor."
Mike blinked. "That's a monster?"
"No," she said, voice hardening. "It's worse. A regulator. The Loop sends them when something breaks pattern."
The creature floated toward them, silent. With every breath, the light around it dimmed—as if it didn't shine, but consumed. Mike felt the air thinning. His thoughts blurred.
"Move!" Rya shouted, and flung a blast of black flame.
The Censor didn't flinch. The fire vanished into its chest, absorbed like smoke in fog.
Mike raised his hands. Shadows surged from his arms, spiraling into a spear—but it twisted in mid-air, unraveling into threads before it touched the creature.
Then came the voice.
Not from the Censor. From inside him.
Take more.
Mike dropped to one knee. Something inside him split open. The monster he'd taken—the one with bone wings and smoke limbs—clawed its way forward, not as an ally, but a prisoner breaking chains.
His veins lit up, dark fire running under his skin. His fingers cracked, reshaping. He screamed—but the power came anyway.
And then he moved.
Too fast.
He slammed into the Censor, driving it back, shadows pouring from his chest like a living storm. The ground cracked. The sigils on the wall flared—then went out.
Rya shouted something—he couldn't hear. The shadows wrapped around the creature, and Mike pulled.
He drained it. Not just its body, but something deeper. Its memory. Its presence. Its purpose.
And the Censor, for a moment, screamed.
Then silence.
The monster vanished, turned to ash.
Mike stood in the center of the ruined chamber, panting, arms coated in black fire. His reflection danced in the shattered glass crown lying at his feet.
Rya approached slowly. "You lost control."
He didn't answer. Couldn't.
She reached out and touched his arm. Her hand flinched back immediately—burned.
"You're not just taking power anymore," she whispered. "You're becoming them."
Mike looked down at his hands. At the smoke rising from his fingers. At the faint echo of a crown hovering behind his eyes.
He wasn't sure he could stop.