The attack came two nights later.
I was in the small room Captain Oda had allocated me—barely more than a storage closet, but private and secure. Or so I'd thought. The checkpoint was quiet, most soldiers asleep in the barracks. Only the wall guards were active, making their rounds under the light of a waning moon.
I wasn't asleep. Sleep had become difficult since consuming the Wind Blade. The Ghost Stomach's constant hunger made true rest impossible. Instead, I meditated—or tried to—attempting to understand the changes happening inside me.
The first warning was the temperature drop.
One moment, the room was pleasantly cool. The next, my breath was fogging in the air, frost forming on the wooden walls. My [Night Vision] sharpened automatically, scanning for threats.
Nothing. The room was empty except for me.
But the shadows in the corner were wrong. Too deep. Too solid. And they were moving.
I rolled off my sleeping mat as the darkness exploded outward. Something incredibly fast slashed through the space where my head had been, razor-sharp claws leaving deep gouges in the wooden floor. I came up in a crouch, hands raised defensively, and finally got a look at my attacker.
The Shadow Demon.
It looked almost human—tall, lean, wrapped in darkness that clung to its form like living cloth. But where its face should have been, there was only a smooth, featureless surface of absolute black. Its hands ended in claws easily as long as daggers, and when it moved, it left trails of shadow behind like afterimages.
[Shadow Demon], my mind supplied. The Ghost Stomach recognized it immediately, hunger spiking to overwhelming levels.
The demon attacked again, its movements silent and impossibly fluid. I activated [Rapid Movement], blurring to the side, but the demon anticipated the displacement. Its claws were already slashing toward my new position, forcing me to abort the movement and roll backward instead.
Smart. Shadow had been right—this wasn't a mindless Specter. This thing could think, could predict, could counter my abilities.
The demon pressed its advantage, attacking in a flurry of claw strikes so fast they blurred even to my enhanced vision. I backpedaled desperately, using [Rapid Movement] in short bursts to create distance, but the demon matched me perfectly. Every displacement I made, it was already moving to intercept.
A claw caught my shoulder—shallow, but burning cold like frostbite concentrated into a blade. I hissed in pain and used [Rapid Movement] to blur across the room, putting maximum distance between us.
The demon didn't follow. It just stood there, its featureless face somehow conveying satisfaction. Toying with me. Demonstrating that it could match my speed, counter my movements, hurt me whenever it chose.
Lord Takeda's test. This was the stick Shadow had warned about.
My room's door burst open. Two guards rushed in, spears raised, responding to the sounds of combat. They saw the demon and froze, their training warring with primal terror.
"Get out!" I shouted.
Too late. The demon blurred into motion, faster than my [Rapid Movement], and both guards died before they could even scream. Shadows carved through their throats, their bodies crumpling silently to the floor.
The demon turned back to me, shadows dripping from its claws like liquid darkness. The message was clear: it could kill everyone in this checkpoint whenever it wanted. I was the only one fast enough to even perceive its movements, let alone counter them.
The Ghost Stomach screamed for action. Not retreat. Not defense. Attack. Consume. Take this creature's power for myself.
But how? The demon was faster than me, more skilled than me, and could predict my displacement patterns. Fighting it directly was suicide.
Unless I changed the rules of engagement.
I let the hunger rise, stopped fighting it. Let the Ghost Stomach's influence flood through me, sharpening my instincts to predatory clarity. The demon was fast and smart. But it was also confident. It had already demonstrated superiority, killed two men to prove its point.
It thought it had won.
I dropped into a defensive stance, deliberately showing fear. Let my breathing become ragged, my enhanced vision flickering as if I was losing control. The demon tilted its featureless head, reading my body language.
Prey behavior. Submission. Defeat.
It approached slowly, confidently, claws raised for a killing strike. Close enough to smell the cold, dead scent of it. Close enough to see the shadows writhing around its form like living things.
Close enough.
I activated both abilities simultaneously—[Night Vision] pushed to maximum, [Rapid Movement] at full power—and attacked.
Not away from the demon. Toward it. Into its guard, inside the reach of those deadly claws. My hand shot forward, fingers rigid, aimed not at the demon's body but at the deepest concentration of shadow around its core.
My hand plunged into darkness that felt like ice water and rotting meat. The demon shrieked—a sound like wind screaming through a graveyard—and thrashed violently. But I held on, my fingers closing around something solid within the shadows. Cold. Dense. Pulsing with malevolent energy.
Its core. The concentrated essence of what it was.
The Ghost Stomach didn't wait for permission. My jaw unhinged, impossibly wide, and the hunger poured out in a devouring wave. The demon's core began dissolving in my grip, spiritual essence flowing up my arm and into my open mouth.
The demon fought back with desperate savagery. Its claws raked across my back, my ribs, my arms. Each strike burned with cold that went bone-deep. But the pain was distant, unimportant. The Ghost Stomach was feeding, and nothing else mattered.
The shadows around the demon's form began unraveling. It thrashed harder, its movements becoming jerky and uncoordinated as its core dissolved. That shrieking intensified to frequencies that made my ears bleed, but I didn't let go.
Consume. Devour. Absorb.
The demon's struggles weakened. The shadows comprising its body started dissipating like smoke in wind. And still I held on, draining every last drop of essence from its disintegrating core.
[GHOST STOMACH SYSTEM ACTIVATED]
[SHADOW DEMON CONSUMED]
[ANALYZING ESSENCE...]
[HIGH-TIER THREAT DETECTED]
[INTEGRATION COMPLEXITY: EXTREME]
[PROCEEDING WITH EXTRACTION...]
The demon's form collapsed entirely, shadows evaporating into nothing. I fell to my knees, clutching my stomach as the Ghost Stomach processed its meal. This was different from before—more intense, more complex. The Shadow Demon had been far more powerful than anything I'd consumed previously, and integrating its essence was proving correspondingly difficult.
Pain lanced through my body. Not physical pain—spiritual pain, as foreign essence warred with my own nature. The demon's power was trying to corrupt me, turn me into something like itself. But the Ghost Stomach was stronger, forcing the transformation into channels it controlled.
[ABILITY EXTRACTED: SHADOW STEALTH]
[INTEGRATION COMPLETE]
[WARNING: ABILITY REQUIRES PRACTICE FOR FULL CONTROL]
[HUNGER THRESHOLD SIGNIFICANTLY INCREASED]
The pain faded slowly, replaced by bone-deep exhaustion. I could feel the new ability sitting in my consciousness alongside [Night Vision] and [Rapid Movement]—waiting to be used, but unfamiliar. Dangerous until I learned to control it properly.
"Ryan!" Captain Oda burst through the door, sword drawn, a dozen soldiers behind him. He took in the scene at a glance—two dead guards, claw marks everywhere, me kneeling in a pool of shadow-tainted blood that was rapidly evaporating.
"Shadow Demon," I managed, my voice hoarse. "Lord Takeda's assassin."
The Captain's expression went hard. "I see. So it begins." He gestured to his men. "Get a healer. And someone inform the other checkpoints—if Lord Takeda sent one assassin, he may have sent more."
Two soldiers moved to help me stand. I waved them off and pushed myself up on shaking legs. The hunger was back already, worse than before. The Shadow Demon's power had cost me dearly in metabolic terms. I'd need to eat soon, or I'd collapse.
"The guards," I said, looking at the two dead men. Young. Maybe twenty years old each. Dead because they'd tried to help me. "I'm sorry. If I'd been faster—"
"They died doing their duty," Captain Oda interrupted. "Defending this checkpoint from supernatural threats. There's no shame in that." He sheathed his sword and moved closer, studying my wounds. "You're injured. Badly. Those claw marks—"
"Will heal. The Ghost Stomach accelerates recovery." I touched my back gingerly, feeling the deep gashes the demon had left. They hurt like hell, but the bleeding had already stopped. "But I need food. A lot of it. And then we need to talk."
"About Lord Takeda?"
"About Lord Takeda. About what I am. About what's coming next." I met his eyes directly. "Because this was just the test. The real attacks will start soon. And when they do, this checkpoint is going to become a battlefield."
Captain Oda studied me for a long moment. Then he nodded grimly. "Then we'd better prepare. Because if you're staying here—if you're making this checkpoint your base—then we're in this together." He raised his voice, addressing the gathered soldiers. "You all saw what happened. The foreign scholar was attacked by a High-Tier Specter sent by Lord Takeda himself. He defeated it. Consumed it. Became stronger."
Murmurs rippled through the soldiers. Not fear this time. Something else. Determination, maybe. Or resignation.
"Lord Takeda has declared war on this checkpoint," the Captain continued. "Not officially. Not openly. But war nonetheless. And we're going to respond accordingly. Double the wall guards. Set up patrol patterns in the forest. And if anyone—anyone—approaches claiming to be from Lord Takeda, assume hostile intent."
He turned back to me. "Can you fight? If more come tonight?"
The Ghost Stomach pulsed, already anticipating more prey. Despite my wounds, despite my exhaustion, the hunger was stronger. Demanding I seek out more threats to consume.
"Yes," I said. "I can fight."
"Good." Captain Oda gripped my shoulder briefly—not quite friendship, but solid professional respect. "Then let's make sure Lord Takeda regrets sending that assassin. Let's show him that this checkpoint isn't as soft a target as he assumed."
I nodded, already feeling the new ability stirring inside me. [Shadow Stealth]. The power to move unseen, to blend with darkness so completely that even enhanced senses would struggle to detect me. Combined with my other abilities...
The tactical possibilities were staggering.
And terrifying.
Two hours later, I stood in the checkpoint's courtyard, my wounds bandaged and my stomach finally satisfied after consuming enough food for eight men. The sky was beginning to lighten with pre-dawn gray, but darkness still dominated.
Perfect conditions for testing my new ability.
Captain Oda and a handful of his most trusted soldiers watched from a safe distance as I focused inward, reaching for [Shadow Stealth]. The ability responded immediately—eager, almost hungry in its own right. I felt shadows gather around me, drawn by the demon's power now residing in my cells.
The world shifted.
Colors drained away, replaced by varying shades of darkness. My body felt lighter, less substantial, as if I was becoming part of the shadows rather than merely hiding in them. I looked down at my hands and could barely see them—translucent, ghostly, more suggestion than substance.
I took a step forward. Silent. Completely silent. Not even the rustle of fabric or the scrape of foot against ground. I was moving through the darkness rather than across it.
"Can you see me?" I asked.
Captain Oda and his soldiers jerked in surprise, spinning toward my voice. Their eyes scanned the courtyard desperately, but I could see the moment they failed to locate me. Even standing five meters away in their direct line of sight, I was invisible to them.
"Your voice," one of the soldiers said nervously. "But not... we can't see you at all."
I released the ability. The shadows fell away, and suddenly I was standing there again, fully visible. The soldiers flinched at my sudden appearance, hands moving instinctively toward weapons before training reasserted itself.
"Terrifying," Captain Oda said flatly. "Absolutely terrifying. You could walk through an enemy camp and they'd never know you were there."
"Until I wanted them to," I agreed. The hunger had spiked during the brief usage—[Shadow Stealth] was expensive, metabolically speaking. But not as expensive as using [Rapid Movement] in combat. This was sustainable for extended periods if I paced myself.
"The question is," the Captain continued, "what do you plan to do with it? Will you wait for Lord Takeda to send more assassins? Or..."
"Or I go to him first," I finished. "End this before it escalates further."
"That would be war. Open war. A foreign scholar attacking a Daimyo lord in his own territory?" Captain Oda shook his head. "The Shogunate would have to respond. Every lord in the realm would see you as a threat that needs eliminating."
"They already see me as a threat. Lord Takeda just made that explicit." I looked toward the north, where the demon had come from. Where Lord Takeda's territory presumably lay. "At least this way, I'm the one choosing the terms of engagement."
"Suicide," one of the soldiers muttered.
Maybe. Probably. But the Ghost Stomach was pushing me toward action, toward more consumption. The Shadow Demon had been powerful—the strongest prey I'd taken yet—and the system was already craving more. Stronger opponents. Greater challenges. More abilities to absorb and integrate.
Waiting passively for assassins to come to me would satisfy that hunger. But it would also give Lord Takeda time to prepare, to gather stronger forces, to set better traps.
Better to strike now. While he thought his assassin had succeeded. While his guard was down.
"I'm not going to kill him," I said, the decision crystallizing as I spoke. "Not yet. But I am going to send a message. Make it clear that continuing this path will cost him far more than he's willing to pay."
"How?" Captain Oda asked.
I smiled, feeling the Ghost Stomach's anticipation. "By showing him exactly what I am. What I can do. And what will happen if he keeps sending monsters after me."
I activated [Shadow Stealth] again, feeling the darkness embrace me. This time I layered [Night Vision] on top, enhancing my already supernatural perception. The world became crystal clear despite the shadows wrapping around me—every detail visible, every movement traceable.
Then I added [Rapid Movement].
The fusion was difficult—three abilities at once, each with its own energy cost and mental overhead. But the Ghost Stomach supported the integration, its hunger driving me to push past normal limitations. For just a moment, I achieved perfect synchronization.
I could move faster than sight through absolute darkness while remaining completely invisible and fully aware.
The ultimate ambush predator.
I released the fusion before the energy cost became unbearable, staggering slightly as the abilities separated. My stomach cramped violently, demanding immediate compensation for the expenditure.
But I'd proven it was possible. Three abilities, fused into a single overwhelming tactical advantage.
"You're planning something insane," Captain Oda observed.
"I'm planning to survive," I corrected. "Lord Takeda wanted to test me? Fine. I'll give him results. And when those results come back, he'll understand that recruiting me was never an option. That his only choices are leaving me alone or dying."
The Captain studied me for a long moment. "You've changed. Even in the few days since you arrived. You're more... certain. More willing to embrace violence."
He wasn't wrong. The Ghost Stomach's influence was growing stronger with each consumption. Making me think more like a predator, less like a scholar. Prioritizing survival and dominance over philosophy and caution.
Shadow had been right. Every Specter I consumed left a mark. Changed me incrementally. And I could feel those changes accumulating, pushing me toward something that wasn't quite human anymore.
But what choice did I have? Stop consuming and lose the power I needed to survive? That would just mean death at the hands of the next assassin, the next Specter, the next threat.
The Ghost Stomach had given me the tools to survive in this nightmare world. Using them meant accepting their cost.
"I'm adapting," I said finally. "Becoming what I need to be to stay alive in this realm."
"And what happens when you've adapted so much that you can't remember what you were before?" Captain Oda's voice was quiet but pointed. "When the monster you're hunting becomes the monster you are?"
I didn't have an answer to that.
The Ghost Stomach pulsed with hunger, already dismissing such concerns as irrelevant. It wanted to feed. Wanted to grow. Wanted to hunt Lord Takeda's territory for more powerful prey to consume.
And despite every rational objection I could raise, despite every warning about losing myself...
Part of me wanted that too.
The sun broke over the horizon, painting the courtyard in shades of gold and red. A new day. New threats. New prey.
The Ghost Stomach approved.
And I was running out of reasons to argue with it.
"When do you leave?" Captain Oda asked.
"Tonight," I said. "I'll need the cover of darkness. And Lord Takeda will need time to realize his assassin failed. The longer he thinks I'm dead, the better my chances."
"You'll need supplies. Intelligence on his manor's layout. Guard rotations if we can get them."
"Whatever you can provide." I met his eyes. "And Captain? Thank you. For the alliance. For not trying to control me. For treating me like a person instead of a weapon."
He nodded slowly. "You're welcome. Though I wonder if I'm doing you any favors. This path you're on..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "Never mind. Survive first. Philosophize later."
Good advice.
I spent the day preparing—eating, resting, studying the intelligence Captain Oda's network had gathered on Lord Takeda's territory. The manor was heavily fortified, surrounded by elite guards, protected by barrier seals designed to detect Specter incursions.
None of which would help against someone who was both human and Specter-touched.
As night fell, I stood at the checkpoint's northern gate, watching darkness claim the forest. My new abilities hummed in readiness. The Ghost Stomach's hunger had sharpened to razor focus.
Time to hunt.
"Return alive," Captain Oda said from behind me. "We need you here. As an ally. As a deterrent. As proof that something can stand against the Specters and win."
"I'll return," I promised. "And when I do, Lord Takeda won't be a problem anymore."
I activated [Shadow Stealth] and vanished into the darkness.
The hunt had begun.
And somewhere ahead, Lord Takeda waited—unaware that his test had created exactly the kind of monster he'd feared.
One that was coming for him.