It's heavy—thick—like the air itself forgot how to breathe.
Every sound comes back wrong.
The hum of the world stretches into a low growl in my skull, and my heartbeat… no, that's not my heartbeat anymore. It's the pulse of something else inside me—something enormous and starving, pressing against my ribs like it wants out.
My senses explode open.
The world's no longer gray and dead—it's alive. Blinding, suffocatingly alive. Every soul, every spark of life around me burns like a beacon in the dark. I can taste them on my tongue—fear, grief, warmth—all drifting through the air like invisible smoke.
I drag in a breath that isn't a breath at all, and the air burns cold through me.
It hurts… but god, it feels right.
Then comes the reflection—shattered tile beneath me, fragments of my face staring back.
A skull. White bone, smooth and sharp, with eyes that flicker like dying coals. From the front of my forehead, two black-tipped horns curve upward—devilish, predatory, and cruel—like they were carved straight from sin itself.
For a moment, my mind is silent.
Then the hunger hits.
It's not physical—it's spiritual, primal, desperate. My body trembles, claws twitching, heartless chest pounding with an echo that doesn't belong to me. I feel hollow, and yet full of noise.
Whispers in my head, chanting—
Eat.
Grow.
Survive.
The ground cracks beneath my feet as I stand.
I don't remember willing myself to move, but my new form obeys instinct like a second language. My claws flex. My back straightens. I tower—taller than before, heavier, but lighter all the same.
And in that moment, I realize something terrifying.
The fear that used to choke me… it's gone.
All I feel now is hunger.
[System Update: Hollow Instinct Stabilized.]
[Designation: The Hollowborn – Cognitive Retention: 82%.]
"...Heh," I rasp, voice distorted, echoing through the mask like a growl and a laugh stitched together.
"So this is… power?"
The air hums around me, bending to my will.
For the first time since dying, I don't feel weak. I feel infinite.
And somewhere deep inside the gnawing darkness, my human soul whispers a warning — that if I take one more step toward that hunger, I'll never come back.
But honestly?
I'm too curious to stop now.
The floor beneath me trembles— no, breathes.
Every inch of this place hums with life and death twisted together like vines. The orphanage… I thought it was quiet, empty, abandoned.
But now, I see it.
Souls.
Hundreads of them.
Each one glowing with a color my mind can barely describe—faint hues of despair, guilt, warmth, and hunger, flickering like dying candles inside their little bodies.
Some burn bright—pure, fragile, trembling.
Others crawl with a dim, venomous red light… stained.
And that's when I understand.
This isn't an orphanage anymore.
It's a graveyard with children still breathing.
I can feel them all. Wicked, innocent, and vile. Each one a story, each one a flavor. The pure ones whisper softly, their emotions brushing against my hollow mind like gentle wind.
But the darker ones… their souls pulse louder, throbbing like war drums, screaming for release. My claws twitch. My teeth ache. The hunger stirs again. The sound of a sob echoes from above—faint, brittle.
The second floor.
And above that, a pulse—no, several. Heavy, monstrous, dragging the air down with every breath.
The third floor.
That's where the monsters rest. They don't feel human. Their souls slither through the walls, wet and heavy, like serpents made of hatred. Even from here, their energy scrapes against my bones, instinct screaming at me to either run… or JUST feed.
The world bends at the edge of my vision, colors bleeding into white.I take a step forward—then another. Each step echoes like thunder in the stillness, and for a moment, I swear I can hear the walls whisper my name.
Or maybe they're whispering what I've become.
[Hollow Instinct: Active Detection – Range Expanded.]
[Detected Spiritual Pressure: Type Unknown – Tier 0 Entities Present.]
Tier 0… the weak. The kind of prey meant for testing. A smile curls beneath my mask, though I can't tell if it's mine or his.
"Let's see what kind of ghosts haunt this place," I murmur, voice rumbling low, almost inhuman. The hallway stretches before me like a throat, dark and narrow.
The flicker of distant lightbulbs dances across the walls—too slow, too deliberate—like the orphanage itself is watching. Somewhere above, a door creaks open.
Something breathes back.
And I move.
My body moves like smoke and hunger.
Each step creaks the warped wood beneath me, dust curling around my claws like mist.
The orphanage is colder now—not from air, but from absence. Every breath I take hums with emptiness, each vibration echoing through my mask like a whisper of the damned.
Then I hear it.
A soft, wet sound.
Sobbing—faint, broken, familiar.
The voice bleeds through the cracked door ahead, trembling like glass about to shatter.
"Children… time to go to sleep…"
Her words drag through the air, half prayer, half plea. The energy surrounding that room drips wrong. Like something that used to be gentle but rotted from the inside out.
My claws twitch. My instincts curl around the sensation, tightening in my gut. Prey. The door groans open with my touch—just a push. Inside, the air is thick with sorrow.
She sits in the corner beside a broken crib, back bent, hands trembling as she clutches an empty blanket. Her soul flickers—pale, cracked, wrapped in layers of guilt and longing. Her eyes are pools of ash.
I stare down at her, and for a heartbeat, she doesn't see me.
Then the air shifts.
Her eyes lift.
She sees my shadow—the curve of horns, the glint of bone, the faint amber burning beneath the mask. Her face contorts. Not in anger. In recognition.
"No… no, not again… please, not again…"
She crawls backward, scraping the floor. "You… you're one of them. The ones that take souls!" Her voice breaks into a sob, but she doesn't run.
She can't. And somewhere deep inside me, a low growl rumbles out, words clawing their way past broken instinct. "Not… them…"
The voice is mine, but layered—two tones, one human, one beast. "Just… me."
Her shaking stops.
Her breathing falters.
Then her head jerks, and that grief ignites into madness. Her aura bursts outward in a scream of crimson and black, burning with twisted love and fury. "Then… you'll stay with me too!"
The ground trembles. The light flickers red.
Her body tears apart as corruption fully takes hold—limbs stretching, jaw unhinging, eyes glowing like lanterns of hatred. Her spectral dress whips through the air like smoke, her form shifting into something monstrous, motherly, hungry.
The sound that leaves my throat is not laughter or surprise—it's hunger.
[Detected: Corrupted Spirit – "Caretaker Mara."]
[Cognitive Retention: 78% — Instinct Influence Rising.]
I can feel the shift—my thoughts slipping, replaced by a roaring pulse that drowns out reason.
The Hollow inside me wants her. Wants to tear. To devour. To end that crying. She lunges first—wild, desperate. The air shrieks as her claws cut through it, missing me by inches. I tilt my head aside, moving without thought. My horns scrape the wall, my claws rise, and I counter.
She screams again, this time in pain as my hand rips through her spectral flesh. Energy bursts out in waves—bitter, cold, full of regret. Her voice breaks mid-sob. "Please… they need to… sleep…"
I lean in close. My mask inches from her fading face. Her tears—made of light—scatter like dust between us. "Then sleep," I whisper. The Hollow voice twists it into a snarl, layered with static. "Sleep forever."
My jaw splits. The bone parts wider than human limits allow. I consume her light.
It's not like eating—it's becoming.
Her essence flows through me, every ounce of guilt and sorrow searing down my throat until nothing remains but silence.
For a moment, her last whisper echoes through the air—a lullaby cut short.
Then she's gone.
[Soul Consumed: Mara, The Caretaker.]
[Echo Skill Gained: "Lull of Mourning."]
[Corruption +5% — Cognitive Retention: 78% → 76%.]
The room dims. Dust settles. My claws twitch again, and I stare down at what's left—a few drifting motes of light.
No satisfaction.
No remorse.
Just hunger.
"You were prey," I growl softly, my Hollow voice echoing in the hollow halls.
"Nothing more."
Above me, the ceiling groans. The monsters are waking—restless, drawn by the noise, the scent, the presence. The air grows dense, spiritual pressure bleeding down like tar.
And beneath that crushing weight, the Hollow inside me stirs with excitement.
[Warning: Tier 1 Entities Awakening – Third Floor.]
[Instinct Directive: Feed or Flee.]
I glance upward, amber eyes burning through the mask. The corners of my mouth curl beneath the bone.
"Let them come."