Nearly 5 meters tall, its massive body like several corpses fused together. Four arms, long and muscular, ended in knife-like claws. The head was disproportionate—too large, a distorted face with three randomly spaced eyes, a mouth full of irregularly sharp teeth.
Its skin was a putrid gray, with open wounds oozing a thick black liquid.
The eyes—all three of them—stared at Raven.
And simultaneously, the mouths opened.
"SOUL... EMPTY... FRAGRANCE..."
The voice boomed, distorted, like many voices shouting at once.
Azaelith stood between Raven and the monster, her expression annoyed.
"Malicious Spirit tier-3," she muttered. "Of course this one came. They can smell an empty soul from miles away."
The monster stepped forward—the concrete cracking under its weight. Its four arms swung, claws scraping the air.
"GIVE IT... TO ME..."
Azaelith didn't move. Just stared boredly.
"Raven," she said without turning, "you have two choices now."
The monster attacked—all four arms sweeping horizontally, fast enough to cleave Raven in two.
Azaelith raised one hand.
The monster stopped. Mid-attack. Frozen as before.
But this time it trembled with resistance. A power far greater than the previous spirit.
"Choice one," Azaelith said, her voice barely audible—she was struggling to hold this monster back, "I kill this, and you run. You survive today. Maybe tomorrow. But sooner or later, another will come. And I won't always be there to save your rabbit."
The monster moved slightly—centimeter by centimeter, fighting its freeze.
Sweat—or something like it—began to appear on Azaelith's forehead.
"Choice two," she turned, her red eyes staring at Raven with terrifying intensity, "you accept my contract. Now. And you kill this monster yourself."
"I can't—" Raven began.
"YOU CAN!" Azaelith shouted, her voice uncontrollable for the first time. "With my power, you can! But you must decide. NOW!"
The monster broke from its freeze—its right arm free, sweeping toward them.
Azaelith dodged, rolling to the side. Raven fell in the opposite direction.
The monster was completely free now, moving with terrifying speed for something so large. Four arms moved independently, attacking from all directions.
Azaelith dodged with impossible grace—but didn't strike back.
She let the monster chase.
Chase Raven.
"Decide!" she shouted from across the rooftop. "Or you die here!"
The monster leaped—its entire 5-meter mass soaring through the air, descending like a meteor toward Raven.
Raven stared up.
The monster's shadow blotted out the sun.
There was no time to run. No time to think.
Only choice.
And at the last second—just as the monster's weight was about to crush him—Raven opened his mouth.
"I accept!"
The world stopped.
No. It didn't stop.
It slowed down.
Raven felt something explode in his chest—not pain. Not warmth.
Cold. Cold fire. Like a star burning at minus temperatures.
A voice in his head—Azaelith's voice, but closer, deeper:
"Contract accepted."
And in the air—between Raven and the falling monster—a symbol burned.
A circle of complex runes, spinning, merging, tightening.
Then it entered.
Entered Raven's chest.
he screamed—not in pain, but overwhelming. Like his entire body was being rewritten from within. Like his DNA was being rewritten.
His eyes burned.
His back burned.
His heart stopped—then beat again, harder, slower, more different.
And the monster—still falling—suddenly seemed slow.
So slow.
Raven raised a hand—his own, but not his own—and touched the air.
Energy exploded from her palm—a red-black light, a vortex of power that tore through reality.
The monster was hit mid-air.
And like the previous spirit—it shattered.
But not into glass fragments.
It became ash. Black ash burning with red flames, screaming with the voices of hundreds of souls at once, and then vanished.
Gone.
Raven landed on the roof—no fall, no wobble.
A perfect landing.
His breathing was steady. His body didn't tremble.
The wound on his shoulder closed. Flesh grew back at a visible speed, leaving a black, claw-shaped scar.
he raised his hand—looked at his palm.
The same. But different.
His nails were a little sharper. The veins in his arm were a little darker, like ink beneath the skin.
And his eyes...
he felt it. They had changed.
"Welcome," said a voice behind him.
Raven turned.
Azaelith stood there, a full smile on her face. Red eyes gleaming with satisfaction.
"Welcome to the real world, Raven Altair."
Raven looked at his hand again. Then at Azaelith.
"What did you do to me?" his voice—a little different. Deeper. A faint echo.
"Me?" Azaelith laughed. "I didn't do anything. You chose."
she stepped closer, touching Raven's cheek—a touch cold but no longer uncomfortable.
"And now," she whispered, "we are one."
In the distance, sirens sounded.
Azaelith turned. "They're coming. Spirit Tamers. They sense our contract."
she turned to Raven, her smile turning into a grin.
"Flight or fight. Your choice, partner."
Raven looked at his hands once more.
Feeling the power coursing through his veins.
Feeling Azaelith's presence—at the edge of his consciousness, like a second shadow.
And for the first time since the attack began
He smiled.
Not a smile of fear.
Not a smile of emptiness.
The smile he'd felt in the ring.
Adrenaline.
"Flee," he said. "For now."
"Wise," Azaelith said.
And together—they disappeared.
The parking lot roof was empty.
Just claw marks, crushed concrete, and black ash slowly drifting in the wind.