Shrrr! Shrr! Shrr
Rain still fell like silver needles when Ayan finally realized he had stopped breathing.
The alley around him flickered with the harsh glow of neon signs, their colors smeared by water into long bleeding stripes. The world felt stretched—distorted—like the moment after a nightmare where nothing quite matches the shape it had a second before.
His palm still burned.
The spectral mark pulsed under his skin, a steady throb that didn't match his heartbeat. It felt alive. Watching him. Claiming him.
Lyra floated a few feet away, barely composed, her translucent form flickering like a candle flame fighting wind. Rain passed through her body without ever touching her. Her eyes, soft and eerie, glowed faintly in the dim light.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Ayan finally broke the silence. "…I survived. Right? That's what the system said."
Lyra didn't answer immediately. Her gaze drifted past him, scanning the shadows as though expecting something—or someone—to appear.
Only when she seemed sure they were alone did she turn to him.
"You survived the hunters," she said softly. "Not the contract."
A chill slipped down Ayan's spine.
"What does that mean?"
Lyra hovered closer. "Let me see your hand."
Ayan hesitated, then held it out. The dark, glowing sigil pulsed like a heartbeat trapped in his skin—black threads twisting outward like veins, feeding on his warmth.
Lyra's expression tightened. "It's worse than I thought."
"Worse?" Ayan swallowed. "What's worse? You said this thing was unstable—"
"It's more than unstable." Her voice trembled like a dying echo. "The contract didn't settle properly. You have power, but your body hasn't accepted the bond. You're caught in between."
"In between what?"
Lyra's eyes flickered. "Life and death."
Ayan's breath hitched.
She floated closer, her face inches from his. "Listen carefully. If the contract collapses, your soul might fracture. Your memories might scatter. Or your body could—"
"Stop." Ayan raised a hand. "Just… stop."
Lyra quieted.
His mind swirled like a whirlpool. He couldn't process it—any of it. One hour ago, he was just Ayan Verma: nobody, invisible, ignored.
Now he was—
He didn't know. A mark bearer? A ghost-binder? A target?
A freak.
Ayan ran a hand through his drenched hair. "This is insane. I shouldn't even be here. I should be home. Eating instant noodles, doing nothing. I'm not—"
His voice cracked.
"I'm not built for this."
Lyra studied him for a long moment.
"You are scared," she said.
"No shit I'm scared."
"You should be," she murmured.
Before he could respond, the sound returned.
That whispering drag of air.
A disturbance so faint, yet so wrong.
Lyra's head snapped toward the mouth of the alley—her form tightening, dissolving at the edges. Ayan felt the temperature drop, cold creeping beneath his skin.
The system chimed like a heartbeat spike inside his mind:
[WARNING: UNKNOWN ENTITY SIGNAL DETECTED]
[THREAT LEVEL: ???]
[RECOMMENDATION: REMAIN ABSOLUTELY STILL]
Ayan's pulse spiked. "It's coming back?"
Lyra didn't answer with words. She grabbed his wrist—cold as frost, yet strangely gentle—and pulled him into the shadow behind a stack of metal crates. Her fingers pressed against his skin.
"Don't breathe loudly," she whispered.
"I—how—"
"Try."
Ayan forced himself into stillness, chest rising in small painful sips of air.
The alley darkened.
No—darkness moved into it.
A shape detached from the shadows at the far end. Not walking. Sliding. Gliding. Its form twisted, humanoid but wrong, limbs too long, head tilting with unnatural angles.
Two white dots glowed where its eyes should be.
Ayan's blood turned to ice water.
The creature halted as if sniffing the air. Something like static crackled beneath its skin. The neon lights along the walls flickered violently as the creature passed under them—colors distorting, bending, warping.
Lyra leaned close to Ayan's ear. "It's not hunting you. Not yet."
"What do you mean not yet?" he whispered.
"She—" Lyra corrected herself abruptly. "It—detects anomalies in the contract. That means you."
Ayan's heart thumped so loudly he thought the creature would hear it.
Lyra's tone fell to a whisper barely audible. "A contract like ours… never should have existed."
That stung. Even through the fear.
"Was it really an accident?" he asked.
Lyra opened her mouth to answer—
—but the creature's head snapped towards them.
Ayan's lungs froze.
Its white eyes cut through the shadows straight at him.
A hiss—like wires snapping—filled the alley.
[DETECTION: CONFIRMED]
[UNKNOWN ENTITY: TARGET LOCK]
"Ayan." Lyra's fingers trembled around his wrist. "Run—now."
He didn't wait.
He bolted from behind the crates, splashing through puddles that lit up with neon streaks. His shoes slipped on wet concrete; his breath tore through his chest like fire.
Behind him, the creature answered with a screech that split the air like metal being ripped apart.
The system blared:
[SPECIAL CONDITION: CONTRACT INSTABILITY — 34%]
[SYNCHRONIZATION FAILURE IMMINENT]
[PHYSICAL STRENGTH REDUCED]
His legs almost buckled. "You've got to be kidding me—NOW?!"
Lyra materialized beside him, half-running, half-gliding.
"Keep going!"
"I'm trying!" Ayan yelled, stumbling through another alley.
The creature crashed behind them, its shadow stretching across the walls. Ayan didn't dare look back.
A fork appeared ahead—two narrow paths branching into darkness.
Ayan skidded, nearly losing balance. "Which way?!"
"Right!"
He veered right.
"No—left!"
"What?!"
"LEFT!"
He swerved abruptly and slammed into a wall, the blow knocking breath out of him. Pain spiked through his shoulder. The creature screeched again—closer.
"Lyra, pick one direction and stick to it!"
"I'm trying to read its movements," she snapped. "The contract—your instability—it's interfering with my perception!"
"Great! Fantastic!"
He pushed off the wall, sprinting again, lungs burning.
The alley narrowed sharply, turning into a cramped passage between two buildings. Pipes dripped overhead. Stray cats hissed and vanished into the darkness.
The creature didn't slow.
Its shadow elongated, stretching unnaturally—slithering ahead of its own body. Ayan felt the temperature plummet as it neared, cold seeping into the bone.
His vision blurred.
His foot caught on broken concrete.
He tripped.
"Ayan!" Lyra reached for him, but he hit the ground hard, pain exploding through his elbow and knees.
He pushed up—
—but shadow tendrils wrapped around his ankle.
Cold. Squeezing. Burning.
A scream ripped from his throat.
Lyra whipped forward, spectral chains bursting from her hands and lashing around the shadow. The tendril recoiled with a distorted shriek.
"Ayan, UP!"
He scrambled to his feet. But the shock, the cold—his body felt disconnected.
[PAIN TOLERANCE BOOST ACTIVATED]
[PHANTOM STEP AVAILABLE]
[ENERGY: LOW]
"Use Phantom Step!" Lyra shouted.
"I don't know how!"
"Move through the space between! Just trust the system!"
"That doesn't help—!"
The tendril lunged again.
Ayan panicked—and jumped.
Not up. Not forward.
He jumped… sideways?
For a split second, the world stretched into a smear of shadows and neon. The creature's claw tore through empty space. Ayan reappeared three meters away, stumbling but upright.
His breath shuddered. "I—I did it. I did—"
The creature roared.
"No celebrating!" Lyra snapped. "RUN!"
He ran.
But his body was failing. The mark on his palm burned hotter, searing his nerves.
The system chimed frantically:
[BOND INTEGRITY: 28%]
[HOST VITALITY: SLIPPING]
[CONTRACT COLLAPSE RISK: EXTREME]
Ayan staggered. His vision tunneled.
Lyra spun around him, voice trembling. "Ayan, you can't fall unconscious! If you do, the bond will—"
She froze.
Ayan blinked. "What—what is it?"
Lyra stared past him.
Not at the creature.
At something else.
Someone else.
A tall silhouette stepped out from behind a corner. Black coat. Dark boots. A mask covering the face—smooth, expressionless, glass-like. Rain slid off him like he wasn't even solid.
A member of the hunters.
An exorcist.
No—Lyra whispered a single word that froze Ayan's blood.
"Veil… Order."
The masked figure tilted his head slightly. "System-bearer," he said, voice calm and cold. "Your contract is illegal."
Ayan backed away. "S-stay back."
"You have something that doesn't belong to you."
He walked forward, unhurried, as though the creature roaring behind Ayan didn't exist.
Lyra placed herself between them, her spectral form flickering with panic. "No… not him. Not now."
The exorcist's mask turned to her. "Return to the dead where you belong."
He raised his hand.
A blade of pure white energy formed from his fingers.
Ayan's heart seized. "LYRA—!"
The creature behind them shrieked in fury and lunged.
The exorcist moved faster.
His blade sliced the air.
Lyra screamed, dissolving into smoke.
Ayan's vision exploded with white light.
His knees buckled.
The contract mark flared, black veins crawling up his arm.
The system screamed inside his skull:
[CRITICAL DAMAGE: HOST SPIRIT]
[CONTRACT DESTABILIZED]
[EMERGENCY PROTOCOL INITIATED]
[WARNING—WARNING—WARNING]
Ayan fell to one knee, clutching his arm.
He felt something tear inside him—something spiritual, vital, essential.
The creature roared again, slamming into the exorcist. The alley collapsed into chaos:
White light.
Black shadows.
Ayan caught in the middle.
Lyra's voice—weak, fading—echoed in his mind.
"Ayan… run…"
But he couldn't move.
The mark seared endlessly, burning deeper, darker, until it felt like it was carving itself into his bones.
Then—
Everything stopped.
For a moment, time froze.
The rain paused in midair.
The lights dimmed.
The creature halted mid-strike.
The exorcist's blade froze inches from Lyra's dissolving form.
Ayan blinked.
A whisper slithered into his ear—soft, cold, almost affectionate.
"Found you."
A hand—pale, long-fingered—touched his shoulder from behind.
Not the creature.
Not the exorcist.
Not Lyra.
Something else.
Something worse.
The system's final message hit him like a hammer:
[UNKNOWN ENTITY: LEVEL — UNREADABLE]
[CONTRACT REACTION: CATASTROPHIC]
[HOST FATE: SEALED]
Ayan tried to turn.
Darkness flooded his vision.
The last thing he heard was a distorted voice murmuring—
"Your soul… will do nicely."
CHAPTER 2
END —
TO BE CONTINUED