The whole space became pinch silent.
TAP. Drag. TAP.
Arun froze. A sound came from the hallway. It was the sound of a heavy footstep followed by something sharp metallic scraping against the floor.
He gripped the fire axe, his heart
hammering his ribs. He didn't run. He moved toward the sound, his boots silent on the mossy tiles.
As Arun approached the entrance of the lab, he took a peek at the hallway. A chill ran down through his spine.
Arun stood still, but his breath stuck in his throat. The "hound" he had seen wasn't a dog at all—it was a nightmare.
It stood nearly as tall as the ceiling. The hallway was too small for it, its translucent violet body pulsing with jagged crimson veins. Its metallic claws scraped the tiles.
It moved once.
A single step cracked the tiles beneath it.
It looked forward with empty glowing eyes
Arun regained his composure and began to formulate a strategy. An idea quickly took shape in his mind.
"The beast outside is giant," he muttered. "It will struggle to get inside, and that's when I'll have the best chance to attack. But first, I have to buy some time for the next phase."
He slammed the door shut and piled heavy racks against it to barricade the entrance. Then, he ran toward the place where chemicals were stored.
"It's lucky that the names of the elements are the same here," he thought.
Arun grabbed butyl gloves and a full-face shield. He took concentrated sulfuric acid (H_2SO_4) and hydrogen peroxide (H_2O_2), mixing them in a 3:1 ratio in borosilicate glassware to make Piranha solution.
"I wanted to make Fluoroantimonic Acid, but that requires specialized equipment," he muttered
As the chemicals started to mix arun got the feeling of heat in his hand coming from the beaker and bubbles started to form.
The beast sensed Arun's presence and crept toward the lab.
Thud. Thud. Crack.
Its claws tore at the door, desperate to break through. Inside, Arun worked with frantic precision, fashioning Molotov bombs from sanitizer bottles.
Boom.
The gate shattered, and the beast forced its way in. Its eyes locked onto Arun, a guttural growl rumbling from its chest. Thick strands of saliva dripped from its fangs, sizzling as they struck the floor. The acrid stench of piranha solution mingled with the smoke, choking the air.
Arun did not waver. He had no time for hesitation. With a swift motion, he hurled a Molotov at the creature's eyes, blinding it in a burst of fire. As the beast roared in agony, Arun charged forward, chain in hand, wrapping it tight around the thrashing body.
The monster collapsed, shackled and helpless. Arun seized the moment—he poured the entire flask of piranha solution onto its neck. Flesh hissed and melted, tissue dissolving under the corrosive flood. Without pause, Arun raised his axe and brought it down, severing the beast's head in a single, brutal stroke.
The head thudded to the ground. Silence followed. Arun drew a deep breath and sank onto a nearby box, his body trembling from exhaustion. He had done what no one else could—he had slain a beast.
As Arun sat, catching his breath, his greatest fear revealed itself. A black miasma seeped from the beast's corpse, coiling like smoke before lunging at him.
He tried to repel it, but his efforts failed. Slowly, inexorably, the miasma forced its way into his body.
Agony followed. His muscles tore, his bones splintered, only to knit themselves back together in a unaturly reconstruction. His body was no longer his own—it was being remade.
The pain was unbearable. Arun slammed his hand against the floor again and again, shattering bone, only to watch it heal in seconds. The cycle repeated endlessly, a torment without pause.
For forty-eight hours, the transformation continued. Each moment stretched into eternity, each scream swallowed by the darkness of the lab. Arun was trapped in a crucible of pain.
After hours of intense pain he gained his conscious back. Now he was bare back in the room he saw himself in a piece of mirror. In the hallway his hair got white dark circles went, his height grew several times bigger, and his body became more defined.
After hours of unrelenting agony, silence finally returned.
Arun's body lay still on the cold floor—broken, remade, and unfamiliar.
Then, with a sharp inhale, his consciousness clawed its way back.
For a moment, he didn't move.
Only the faint hum of the hallway lights remained, flickering weakly above him.
Slowly… painfully… he pushed himself up.
His hands trembled—not from weakness, but from something else. Something new.
His gaze drifted across the room until it caught a shattered piece of mirror lying nearby.
He picked it up.
And froze.
The reflection staring back at him was no longer the same.
His once-dark hair had turned completely white, strands falling messily over his face like pale ash. The exhaustion that once clung beneath his eyes was gone—replaced by deep, hollow shadows that made his gaze look sharper… colder.
His height had increased noticeably—his frame now taller, broader. Muscles defined themselves beneath his skin with unnatural precision, as if sculpted rather than grown.
He looked… perfected.