A sharp, startled gasp broke from Daniel's lips as his eyes snapped open. Cold, damp air rushed into his lungs as if he hadn't taken a breath in hours. His vision blurred, revealing only shifting dark shapes and strange, dancing shadows around him. When his sight finally steadied, he realized he was sprawled on a hard, dusty floor.
A harsh mix of rust, burnt smoke, and dried blood assaulted his senses.
"Where… where am I?"
His voice sounded wrong—far too young, almost boyish.
Daniel pushed himself upright, his skull throbbing as though someone were prying it open from the inside. He clutched his head. The pain sharpened, burning—like memories were being forced into his mind all at once.
A child beside his mother.
Gasoline and fire.
Screams drowned by shattering glass.
The cold, hateful stare of a relative.
A suffocating bag over his head.
A madman chanting in a trembling voice.
The metallic taste of blood.
A final, stabbing agony. Darkness.
Daniel gasped for air.
These memories weren't his.
They belonged to someone else entirely.
A name surfaced slowly through the fog.
Ethan.
The body he inhabited belonged to Ethan Ward—an eighteen-year-old boy.
Daniel pressed a hand to his chest. The heartbeat racing beneath it was young, frantic. He glanced at his arms—smooth, soft, nothing like the weathered skin of a fifty-year-old man who had survived jungles and deserts.
These weren't his hands.
This wasn't his body.
"What… what happened to me?" he whispered.
He forced himself to look around. The place was huge and abandoned—an old factory left to rot. Broken, rust-covered machines leaned against cold walls, and corroded pipes snaked across the ceiling. The windows were badly cracked, coated with years of grime. Faint moonlight slipped through, casting distorted shapes across the floor.
On the floor lay a massive ritual circle, its dark lines thick and unsettling, filled with symbols he didn't recognize.
He had been lying at its exact center.
Daniel swallowed and forced his shaky legs beneath him, the young body trembling as if relearning how to exist.
Something else was in the room.
Someone else.
A corpse.
Daniel's stomach turned.
A man lay near the circle's edge, his face twisted in a grotesque expression, eyes frozen open, dried blood staining his shirt and hands.
The madman.
The same madman from Ethan's memories—the one who tried to use him in some dark ritual.
"He's dead," Daniel whispered, voice trembling.
The man's neck bent at an unnatural angle. The ritual had clearly gone wrong. Maybe it had killed him instantly.
Daniel stepped back unsteadily from the corpse.
That was when he saw it—
a shape standing before him.
A figure—tall, dark—outlined by a faint glow, like smoke woven from shadow. Its face was indistinct, but its eyes burned red, locking onto Daniel.
Daniel went still, every muscle locking.
This wasn't imagination.
Not leftover jungle fear.
Something stood there—real and wrong.
A devil-like creature—exactly what the madman had tried to summon.
It tilted its massive head, studying him.
"Y-You're real?" Daniel stammered.
The creature didn't answer. It simply stepped closer. The air around it dropped sharply, growing dense enough to choke him.
Daniel stumbled back. "Stay back!"
The creature lifted a long arm, its fingers tapering into claw-like points.
Daniel's heart hammered.
He couldn't fight this—not in an eighteen-year-old body, unarmed and untrained.
There was nowhere to run.
"I survived the Amazon," he whispered. "I can't die again… not now."
The creature lunged.
And then—something impossible happened.
Before it reached him, pressure surged behind Daniel's right eye. It didn't hurt—just heat, raw energy, like something awakening.
"What… what is that?"
A burst of brilliant light erupted from his right eye. A thin, razor-bright green beam shot forward, striking the creature's chest.
The creature screamed—distorted, echoing—before being hurled backward into the brick wall.
Daniel froze, breath ragged, staring at the faint, shimmering smoke rising from his eye.
He touched the corner of his eye. It was warm—almost burning—but looked unchanged.
He glanced at the wall again.
The creature was gone.
Only a fading shadowy stain remained.
Silence returned to the room, broken only by Daniel's unsteady breathing.
A sudden realization struck him—the creature's soul energy had been absorbed into him.
The green energy pulsed through him. His muscles tightened, strength blooming. Movements that felt clumsy moments ago now felt natural.
Memories surged—the glowing eye-shaped artifact in the Amazon temple, the warmth, the pull.
That artifact had brought his soul here, and now, fused with this new energy, it strengthened him.
Daniel looked around again. The abandoned factory was dark, yet something alive lingered in the air.
In the far corner, an old bookshelf stood against the wall, its thick books and scrolls buried under dust.
Curiosity pushed him forward. He grabbed the first book within reach.
The pages held strange, twisted symbols he'd never seen—yet they felt familiar, echoing ancient Earth languages like Sanskrit or Old Norse. His mind honed in on the similarities.
Then his left eye tingled.
Ghostly information boxes appeared before him, hovering over the book.
Title: Codex of Shadows
Pages: 312
Origin: Unknown (Corrupted)
Warning: Spell Contained Within. Handle with Care.
Daniel blinked. Impossible—yet the words remained.
Every book he glanced at displayed similar windows—some with warnings like Dangerous Spell Contained.
A smaller book transformed instantly under his gaze—his left eye converting the symbols into English, step by step, like a digital tutorial.
Energy shaping.
Soul binding.
Dark rituals.
Daniel slid down against the wall, clutching the book.
His right eye burned with power.
His left eye revealed knowledge—dangerous, forbidden knowledge.