The rain hadn't stopped in hours. Cold needles from a sky that didn't seem to care. Asher stood beneath the broken roof of an abandoned gas station, the dim hum of the Parasight interface crackling faintly in his skull.
> [Entropy: 4.0%]
[Kill Points: 110]
[Subsystems: Status / Inventory / Replay Log – Unlocked]
[New Skill Acquired: Ritual Echo]
[Mask Equipped: Civilian Grade – Damage Reduction 5% (Cosmetic Alteration Active)]
The mask clung to his face, a smooth ceramic shell stolen from one of the dead cultists. He'd altered it slightly—added subtle fractures, red streaks across one cheek. Human enough to pass. Inhuman enough to unsettle.
It felt wrong on his skin.
It also felt right.
He flexed his fingers. Dried blood cracked along his gloves.
There were memories in his head that didn't belong—whispers of places he couldn't name, instincts too sharp for someone who'd only just begun killing.
The cult had summoned something. That much he knew. But it hadn't gone as planned.
They'd wanted Zalgo.
Instead, Parasight had answered.
Or hijacked it.
And now it was inside him. Not a voice. Not a guide. A presence. An algorithm fed by entropy, silently reconfiguring what remained of Asher Vail.
He didn't remember the moment it started. Just blood. Screams. Then darkness.
When he'd come to, the ritual chamber was full of corpses. Some torn apart. Others burnt from the inside out. And Parasight had been waiting.
It hadn't explained why.
But he had a guess.
He was supposed to be dead. A vessel. A sacrifice. But something had gone wrong—or perfectly right.
He didn't trust it. But he couldn't deny it, either.
It was giving him a chance to live.
Even if that meant becoming something worse.
---
Night fell like a curtain.
Asher moved through the outskirts of the forest, slipping from shadow to shadow, testing the new skill.
> [Skill: Ritual Echo – Active]
Briefly recalls spatial memory of nearby ritual traces. Usable for one minute. Cooldown: 3 hours.
He triggered it.
Light shimmered around him—faint lines of old blood, burned symbols, claw marks in bark. This was one of their old hunting grounds. A place of offerings.
The echoes led him to a shallow grave.
Inside: a half-rotted deer skull painted with glyphs and bound with sinew.
He left it untouched.
Not out of fear.
Out of calculation.
There were patterns now. Movements. Survivors from the ritual were scattering, hiding. A few had gone feral. One still clung to the old rites.
Asher would find them.
One by one.
> [Entropy: 4.0%]
[Objective Updated: Begin the Hunt]
[Subsystem Unlocked: Stealth]
[Stealth XP: 0%]
The interface pulsed once as the forest embraced him.
The mask shifted slightly on his face.
And Asher Vail disappeared into the dark.