《Black Dog (Short Story\Completed)》 Hopeless City The woman was running as fast as her legs could carry her, out of breath. She stopped when she reached the lamppost, clinging to it for support. She doubled over due to exertion, her thin fingers barely clinging to the lamppost being the only reason she hadn¡¯t collapsed to the ground. She took fast, shallow breaths which only filled her lungs with dust and industrial smoke. ¡°Michel!¡± She shouted as loud as her overworked lungs allowed her. A coughing fit shook her body and she shouted once again. She wore a sweater so old that it was impossible to tell its original color. Below, she had a dark skirt, long and frayed at the edges, with a few visible patches. Her head was wrapped in a torn scarf. Her face was smeared with coal dust, yet even the dirt and poverty coating her couldn¡¯t manage to snuff out the bright light in her eyes. If it wasn¡¯t for the black and thick smoke exiting out of every factory blocking out the sky, she could see what color her eyes were by looking up. The houses, streets, and sidewalks were all shades of gray and black. There wasn''t a single tree or bit of greenery in sight. Even the most stubborn and invasive weeds weren¡¯t able to take root here. The windows of the houses were either boarded up or barred with iron. The doors were reinforced and locked. Besides her, no one was outside. The city''s color and its entirely stone structure made it feel like a living tomb. Or perhaps, it was already dead. The woman, however, was running as if to defy being buried alive, calling out her child''s name. Her body which was overworked and malnourished couldn¡¯t take the running around while shouting any longer. She was overtaken by another coughing fit. This time, there was nothing nearby to support her. She fell to her knees. When the fit ended, she took deep breaths with difficulty. Her glowing blue eyes were now red-rimmed. Breathing was hard in the city. The tall, dense buildings seemed to block not only the sunlight but also the clean air from reaching the people. The countless factories in the city exhaled their fumes, making the already stifling air unbreathable. She saw a lamp turning on ahead and realized the sky was nearly dark. It felt as if someone had reached into her chest and was squeezing her heart. There was an indescribable pain in her stomach. Her logical mind screamed at her to return home. But her heart, or rather her maternal instincts, wouldn''t rest until she found her child. In her frantic search, she ran into a dead end. She knew very little of the city, familiar only with four or five places as a member of the working class. The thought of being unable to find her way back home even if she found her child flashed through her mind. She had to hurry. She had to find her child and return back to home. To do that she first needed to get out of this dead end. She was about to turn back when she felt it. Terror. She stopped in her tracks, not even daring to breathe. Even though her life was filled with hardships until now, what she was feeling now was the most unpleasant sensation she had ever felt. Something itchy, slimy, and ragged at the same time was inside her body, inside every organ, vein, and cell. She put a hand over her mouth and gagged, nearly releasing what little she had in her stomach. It was a sickening, stomach-churning sensation. She slowly turned around. Every part of her was screaming at her not to do it, just like the time she had to crawl under a working piece of equipment to retrieve her tools. If she didn¡¯t retrieve them, she knew that her supervisor would cut her pay and beat her. Stopping the machine was out of the question since it would lessen the work being done. So she had crawled under the rusted press shuddering violently and paid dearly for it with her two fingers. What about now? What would she lose? The things in front of her were partly humanoid in appearance, at least in their rough body plan. But they were on all fours, wearing nothing resembling clothes. There wasn''t a hair on their smooth skin, and their entire bodies were a sickly white. Their heads were shaped like beetroots, with numerous independent, writhing tendrils atop them. They had no noses or eyelids, and their eyes were bloodshot as if they hadn''t slept in ages. There were three of them. The one in the middle was the largest, dwarfing the other two. The ones beside it, though smaller in comparison, were still bigger than an average human. They were growling, but it sounded more like the rasping of an old, sorrowful man fighting for his last breaths than an animal''s snarl. Though they were about five meters away, she could smell their breath. If she had handled meat once in her life she could have thought it smelled like raw meat. The large creature slithered slowly toward her. The smaller ones bowed their heads, as if the largest had the right to eat first, or perhaps it was a gesture akin to how animals in the wild treat the opposite sex. As the creature extended its claw toward her, she collapsed to the ground in fear and hopelessness, her knees hitting the ground with enough force to draw blood. Yet even the searing pain and the warm blood starting to coat her skirt occupied her mind. Death. Her lips quivered and tears rolled down her cheeks. She was going to die. But then, something miraculous happened. Something, or rather someone, fell from above. The creatures retreated, arching their backs and hissing like cats. The man was tall, nearly two meters. He wore a coat that reached the ground and a turtleneck sweater. The front of the coat was open, and a dog emblem with bared teeth was visible on the left side of the sweater and the left shoulder of the coat. He was dressed entirely in black and carried a massive sword on his back. The sword was so large it seemed absurd to call it a sword, more like a shaped but crude mass of black metal. There was no guard between the hilt and the blade. It would have been challenging for an ordinary person to lift it, let alone use it effectively in combat. Black Dog. She knew that emblem. She knew that sword. She has seen it when she went to the factory where her husband worked before his injury. She has seen 5 men struggle to carry it around. The largest creature swiped its right claw at the man in a wide arc. The man rolled toward the creature, seemingly unaffected by the sword''s size and weight. He drew the sword with a speed that was hard for the human eye to follow and brought it down with all his might on the creature''s neck. The creature''s head fell to the ground like a toy thrown by a child, and its body crumpled like a puppet with cut strings. The other two emitted a high-pitched, baby-like wail. The woman covered her ears, grimacing. The man on the other hand was unfazed, his face cold and emotionless. The creature on the man''s right side approached first. It moved its impressive bulk with uncanny ease, lunging towards the man. He made a half-turn. His black hair and sword swung with him. The sword sliced the creature in half, splattering green liquid everywhere. The woman steeled herself for the loud clang the sword would make when it would hit the ground as it was nigh-impossible to control something that heavy when it started to move. Yet, it never came. The man controlled his sword before it could slam to the ground. He put the sword on his shoulder and slowly turned his head to the remaining creature. The remaining creature hesitated, its bloodshot eyes flickering with a mix of fear and anger. For a second, the woman thought that the creature resembled a human. It was afraid of dying against a being it couldn¡¯t hope to win against, just like herself less than a minute ago. Yet unlike her, it was ready to use violence. It lowered its body, muscles coiling as if ready to spring, but the man¡¯s cold, unblinking stare seemed to hold it in place. The woman, still on the ground, felt a glimmer of hope amidst her terror. The creature snarled, its tendrils writhing in agitation. For a moment, it looked as if it might attack, but then it sprang on one of the buildings, somehow clinging to the walls like a bug. The man chased after the hopping creature wordlessly, leaving the woman alone. She gasped for air. She has forgotten to breathe. She looked at her hands. They were shaking like a leaf under the autumn wind. She stood up, pushing herself with her hands. Her knees shook as badly as her hands. She nearly fell but she was able to catch herself at the last second. She was alive. She could feel her heartbeat in her chest, throat, and temple. She survived an encounter with monsters. She never felt this alive until now. The woman took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. She glanced in the direction the man had gone, not hearing any sounds. Whatever sounds the fight between the man and the creature made, if it made any were absorbed by the stone city. She couldn¡¯t afford to wait here, not with her child still missing. Mustering every ounce of strength left in her, she started to move, her legs trembling but determined. The streets were eerily quiet as she pressed on, calling out for Michel whenever she dared. The oppressive silence was broken only by the occasional distant clatter of machinery or the faint hum of electricity from the factories. Her voice echoed back at her, a haunting reminder of how empty and desolate the city had become. As she turned a corner, she spotted what she thought was a group of children. They were small and covered with old rags. Hope flared in her chest. Could they be her child¡¯s friends? Maybe that was why he was late. He forgot about time while playing. She approached them cautiously, not wanting to startle them. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.¡°Michel?¡± she called out softly, her voice trembling. One of them turned around. The woman took a step back while covering her mouth. Those things were not children. Their small, hunched figures made her think of malnourished children at first, but as they turned to face her, she saw their true nature. They had the same sickly white skin as the creatures from before. Their face, if it even could be called a face were made out of a large gaping maw filled with dagger-like fangs and various eyes both above and under it. Their body constantly twitched as their arms which were too long for their size dragged across the ground. She stifled a scream, her mind racing with panic. The group of creatures began to advance, moving with an eerie, synchronized gait despite their twitch. The woman¡¯s legs felt like they were made of lead, but she forced herself to turn and run. Her breath came in ragged gasps as she ran, her heart pounding louder with every step. The creatures followed, their movements unnaturally fluid and swift. She could hear their raspy breaths and the scraping sound of their dragging limbs. "Michel!" she screamed again, her voice echoing through the empty streets. Desperation gave her speed, but her body was reaching its limit. She darted into an alley, hoping to lose the creatures in the maze of narrow passageways. The alley was dark, the shadows deep and foreboding. She stumbled over debris, her vision blurred by tears and exhaustion. She could hear the creatures behind her, their unsettling clicks and growls growing closer. She slammed into an overflowing trash can, sending her crashing to the ground. Darkness filled her vision as her lips came in contact with the ground. Her body screamed in protest, but sheer willpower pushed her back onto her feet, blood pouring out of her mouth. She took two steps forward before stumbling and falling to the ground. The fall seemed to hurt her more than she realized. Still, she crawled on her hands and knees as the creatures started to catch up to her. Just as she thought it was the end, she saw a flicker of movement ahead. A figure stepped out of the shadows, tall and imposing. It was the man again, his massive sword resting easily on his shoulder. Without a word, he moved past her, positioning himself between her and the approaching creatures. The woman collapsed against the wall, her body shaking with relief and terror. The creatures hesitated at the sight of him, their unnatural eyes narrowing. The man shifted his stance, his grip tightening on the hilt of his sword. The creatures snarled, their fanged maws opening wide. They rushed forward in a coordinated attack, their movements a blur of pale limbs and gnashing teeth. The man met them head-on, his sword flashing through the air with deadly precision. The first creature fell, split cleanly in two. The others hesitated, but their momentum carried them forward. With a series of fluid, powerful swings, the man dispatched the remaining creatures, their bodies crumpling to the ground in grotesque heaps as if they were hit by cannon fire. The alley fell silent once more, the only sound of the woman¡¯s labored breathing. He glanced back at her without turning fully, their gazes meeting for the first time. The woman let out a muffled scream. His eyes were full black. They were devoid of emotion. Devoid of light. He wasn¡¯t human. He turned towards her. She got up and started to run away. He reached for her. She hit something solid, something tougher than the ground she just hit. She raised her head to see what it was as something pierced her stomach. Another creature was before her. She hadn''t noticed it, or maybe it was too fast. Unlike the others, this one stood on two legs, like a knight. If a creature could be called noble, it would be this one. It held a medieval spear in one hand and a large shield in the other as if it were part of its body. It was also washed in that sickly white. The knight lifted the woman impaled on its spear into the air. She doubled over, coughing blood. She tried to say something, but her respiratory system was damaged. Maybe she begged for mercy? Or maybe she wanted to call out for her child a last time? No one will ever know. The knight let her body slip off the spear and fall to the ground. She lay there trembling like a leaf caught in a storm. Perhaps she was trying to cling to life like a leaf clings to a branch, or maybe the cold winds of untimely death were caressing her, making her shiver. The knight, however, seemed unconcerned with such thoughts. It leaned over her, and its helmet split open, revealing what could be called a mouth. The split halves of the helmet fell to the ground, shattering like jagged porcelain. It opened its "mouth" impossibly wide and bit into her neck. No, perhaps "took a bite" would be more accurate. She stopped trembling. Though she had screamed earlier to defy being buried by the city, now she was silent, her body lying as if it had become part of the dull, dreary city. Blood from her jugular stained the knight''s helmet-head. The blood from the flesh in its mouth slowly dripped to the ground. It didn''t chew or swallow. It had no need for food. The Black Dog moved swiftly, his dark eyes narrowing as he approached the knight-like creature. The woman''s lifeless body lay crumpled at its feet, her blood staining the ground. He raised his massive sword, its edge gleaming menacingly. The knight-creature turned its attention to him, releasing a guttural growl. It lunged first, spear thrusting towards him with blinding speed. He parried the blow, the force of the impact reverberating up his arms. Yet, his face showed no sign of distress returning back to its emotionless state. He countered with a swift slash, but the creature''s shield intercepted, producing a metallic clang that echoed through the alley. They exchanged blows in a deadly dance, each movement calculated and precise. The man¡¯s strength and skill were apparent, but the knight-creature was a formidable opponent. Its movements were fluid, almost graceful, despite its monstrous appearance. The man dodged a particularly vicious thrust, rolling to the side and coming up behind the creature. With a mighty swing, he aimed for its exposed back. The creature twisted at the last second, the blade skimming its side, eliciting a hiss of pain and rage. He pressed his advantage, raining down a flurry of strikes. The knight-creature defended valiantly, but it was being pushed back, its porcelain-like skin cracking under pressure. With a final, powerful blow, he cleaved through the creature¡¯s shield, shattering it. The knight stumbled, and he seized the opportunity, driving his sword deep into its chest. The creature let out a blood-curdling screech as it fell to its knees, its body twitching in its death throes. He wrenched his sword free, stepping back as the creature collapsed to the ground, lifeless. He slowly walked towards the woman¡¯s corpse and looked down at her with a blank expression. ¡°Drip, drip.¡± Sounds of a liquid falling to the ground were heard. He looked at his stomach to see a massive tentacle exiting out of it. He spun around, swinging his sword and severing the tentacle. Another tentacle grabbed the woman¡¯s body by her leg, snatching it into the air. He didn¡¯t make a single noise as he confronted the new monster. His gaze followed the tentacle, tracing its origin to a massive, grotesque creature lurking in the shadows. This new abomination was unlike the others. Its body was a writhing mass of tendrils and eyes, a nightmarish fusion of flesh and shadow. It stood nearly three meters tall, its form constantly shifting and undulating as if it were a living storm of darkness. The creature''s multitude of eyes focused on him, each one gleaming with malevolent intelligence. It lifted the woman''s lifeless body higher, dangling her like a trophy, her blood dripping onto the cobblestones below. His face remained impassive, but his eyes darkened with a cold fury. The creature let out a guttural roar, the sound reverberating through the alleyway, shaking loose bits of debris from the buildings around them. It swung the woman''s body towards him, using it as a grotesque flail. He ducked under the corpse, his movements fluid and precise, and closed the distance between them in a heartbeat. With a powerful, upward swing, he aimed to sever the creature''s main body from its tentacles. The blade cut through several tendrils, but the main body shifted and reformed, evading the full force of his strike. The severed tentacles writhed on the ground, each one twitching as if it had a life of its own. The creature retaliated, lashing out with multiple tendrils. He dodged and parried, his sword a blur of motion. Despite its size and apparent lack of structure, the creature was incredibly fast, its movements unpredictable. It managed to land a glancing blow, knocking him back a few steps as black blood poured out of his stomach, but he quickly regained his footing. His eyes flicked over the creature, analyzing its form, searching for any sign of vulnerability. He noticed that the main body seemed to recoil whenever he struck its tendrils as if it were trying to protect a central core. He lowered his stance until his body was nearly parallel to the ground. He kicked the ground below, charging forward. The creature lashed out, its tendrils piercing his body and painting the grey stone into black. The wounds in his body could kill a human but he was not one. He drove his sword deep into the creature''s core. The blade sank in with a wet, sickening squelch, and the beast let out an ear-splitting shriek. The tendrils flailed wildly, convulsing in agony. He twisted the blade, driving it deeper, and with a final, mighty heave, he ripped the sword free. The creature collapsed, its form disintegrating into a puddle of dark, viscous liquid. He put his free hand into his pocket. After rummaging for a second he pulled out a cigarette joint and put it into his mouth. The joint looked cheap and could come undone in any second but the man didn¡¯t seem to mind. He pulled out a lighter and lit it. He closed his eyes as he inhaled the toxic gas. He opened his eyes and saw numerous monsters crawling towards him. He slowly lifted his hand and put the joint between his fingers. "You''re not even going to let me enjoy this damn thing, are you, you sons of bitches?" The Bark and the Bite The room was clean. Not even a single dust or mud could be seen. It was weird for him, to see a room this clean after living in slums. He was used to the musty smell of fungus and rot, used to dust particles flying in the air with his every move, and used to itchy sensations when they clung to his body. This room was clean. Sterile. Even more than the laboratories he had been in. His gaze fell to the floor. It was made of black and white squares out of some kind of expensive material. It reminded him of the chessboard the doctors had. Chess. Poorer folk, especially children played it among themselves too. Of course, they didn¡¯t have pieces or boards. The rules they used were also different as no one was educated enough to know the official rules. They would draw a board to the ground using the chalk they stole from the factories and find different colored rocks to use as pieces. He looked at the square he was standing on. He was in the second row. It was a black square. A pawn. If this was a chess board he would be a pawn. He lifted his foot slowly and stepped forward to the next square. With how long his limbs were, he could easily step over it and skip it but he didn¡¯t. He waited there for a second before moving to the next square. And the next one. And the next one. He only stopped when he was in front of the door. It was large even for him as if it was made for someone inhumanly large. Something inhumanly large. The door loomed before him, a towering monolith of dark, weathered wood, reinforced with thick bands of wrought iron. Its existence contrasted with the pristine room. The handle, a large iron ring, was shaped like a serpent biting its own tail, its scales meticulously detailed. Hinges as thick as a man¡¯s arm secured the door to the frame, their joints groaning softly as if in anticipation of movement. ¡°Could you have opened the door?¡± The doctor asked him as he finished stitching his stomach. He threw his black blood-covered gloves to the trash and leaned on a table. The doctor stood before him, a figure of unsettling frailty yet undeniable presence. His bald head, covered with patches of age spots and veins, gleamed under the harsh light of the room. Deep wrinkles etched lines of hardship and cruelty into his face, devoid of any trace of kindness or empathy. His eyes, sunken into their sockets, bore a piercing gaze that seemed to strip away layers of pretense and pierce straight into one''s soul. His posture, slightly hunched made him look shorter than he already was. His attire, a simple yet impeccably maintained white coat stained with the remnants of dark, viscous fluids, hung loosely over his emaciated frame, adding to his spectral appearance. ¡°Yes.¡± The Black Dog answered after wearing his sweater while inspecting himself in the mirror. In many ways, he was similar to the doctor in front of him. The doctor¡¯s skin looked devoid of water, dry, and clung to his skeleton. The Black Dog¡¯s was just as damaged and messed up, just in another way. His skin just like all other Black Dogs couldn¡¯t match the growth of his bones and muscles, stretching to its limit and tearing up in some places. That left him with scars and marks all over his body. The Doctor smiled when he heard his response, revealing a toothless mouth. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you then?¡± The question hung in the air, laden with unspoken implications. It was not common for Black Dogs to hesitate or feel any kind of emotions which only caused Doctor¡¯s smile to widen. ¡°Something would have changed.¡± The Black Dog answered in a raspy voice. He wasn¡¯t used to talking and describing the dreams he was constantly having put extra strain on his vocal cords. ¡°You were afraid of change?¡± The doctor''s gaze bore into him, his eyes filled with sadistic glee as if taking pleasure off the discomfort Black Dog was feeling. He, on the other hand, turned towards the doctor and met his gaze with eyes devoid of emotion. ¡°We can¡¯t feel fear, Doctor Entress.¡± The doctor¡¯s eyes narrowed, his thin lips curling into a knowing smirk. ¡°If that was true, overflows wouldn¡¯t have happened, you know.¡± The Black Dog remained silent, unwilling to engage further verbally. It was a decision he made based on experience mostly as he knew that most things Doctor was he speaking to himself instead of speaking to him. ¡°Do you know what the oldest and most powerful emotion is, Kerberos?¡± The Doctor asked while pulling out a bottle of liquor under his desk. Kerberos watched him wordlessly, completely still. In Doctor¡¯s eyes, he looked like a well-trained dog. ¡°Fear.¡± He poured it into a small cup and drank it in a single gulp without offering any to Kerberos. ¡°Every single being in this world is afraid of something.¡± He lifted his hands high up, his sleeves rolled down, revealing his thin arms. ¡°It is deep inside. Inside our body, etched into our very DNA or perhaps soul, if something like that exists.¡± He rambled to himself enthusiastically, chuckling from time to time. The Black Dog, Kerberos, stood silently as Doctor Entress spoke, his eyes fixed on the erratic movements of the doctor''s hands. The room felt colder now, despite its sterile cleanliness, as if a chill had settled in with the doctor''s words. ¡°One day. One day we will get rid of it.¡± The doctor continued, his voice now a low murmur as he paced the room, the scent of liquor mingling with the faint odor of antiseptic. ¡°Ah.¡± The doctor sighed, seemingly snapping out of his mania. ¡°How many years? How long have you been a Black Dog, Kerberos?¡± He twitched as he turned to face Kerberos. ¡°20 years, Doctor.¡± Doctor licked his lips. ¡°A long time to not go mad.¡± Doctor Entress¡¯s words hung in the air, casting a heavy silence over the pristine room. Kerberos, accustomed to the eerie stillness that often followed their conversations, remained impassive, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond the doctor''s frail form. ¡°I do my job, Doctor.¡± The doctor chuckled dryly, the sound echoing strangely against the sterile walls. ¡°Many of your kind went mad way before the 1-year mark.¡± He hurriedly drank one more glass before approaching Kerberos. He looked at his eyes. It was something many avoided. None wanted to be dwarfed by Black Dogs or see the abyss in their eyes. Yet this frail old man had no problems doing both. The doctor¡¯s gaze bore into Kerberos with an unsettling intensity, as if searching for something hidden deep within the Black Dog¡¯s soul. Kerberos, in turn, met the doctor¡¯s stare with an unwavering calm, his expression a mask of stoicism acquired years of suffering and danger. ¡°You do your job well, Kerberos,¡± the doctor murmured, his voice laced with a mixture of admiration and something darker, ¡°perhaps too well.¡± ¡°Do you ever wonder,¡± the doctor continued, his tone almost conversational despite the gravity of their discourse, ¡°about the futility of life? About how nothing we do matters?¡± Kerberos shook his head. ¡°No.¡± The doctor''s grin widened, revealing a jagged gap where teeth had once been. He leaned in closer to Kerberos, his breath smelling of stale liquor and antiseptic. ¡°Ah, but you should, my dear Kerberos,¡± he whispered, the words slithering through the air like serpents. ¡°Life is a cruel joke, played upon us by forces beyond our comprehension. We scurry about, fulfilling our duties, all the while oblivious to the meaninglessness of it all.¡± Kerberos remained unmoved, his eyes betraying no emotion as he regarded the doctor with a cool detachment. He had heard the doctor¡¯s philosophical musings before, each time tinged with a hint of madness that lurked beneath his veneer of clinical detachment. ¡°You are a pawn just like me, just like all of us, Kerberos,¡± the doctor continued, his voice low and conspiratorial. ¡°A pawn in a grand game of cosmic proportions. Do you not yearn to break free from these shackles, to defy the roles thrust upon us? To rise above everyone, everything?¡± ¡°No.¡± Kerberos replied evenly, his voice a low rumble. Doctor clenched his fists. ¡°I guess that¡¯s your flaw. With all of your emotions dampened, your ambitions also fade along with your rage.¡± He giggled. ¡°Rage. Rage against the dying of the light.¡± Kerberos met the doctor¡¯s unsettling gaze with a stoic calm, his demeanor unchanged by the doctor¡¯s provocative words. The room seemed to close in around them, the air heavy with the weight of their shared existence within the city¡¯s oppressive confines. ¡°You speak of ambitions and rage as if they are luxuries we can afford,¡± Kerberos remarked, his voice resonating with a hint of weariness. ¡°In this place, survival is the only ambition worth pursuing.¡± The doctor¡¯s grin faltered momentarily, replaced by a flicker of annoyance that danced behind his sunken eyes. ¡°You speak like a peasant.¡± "Peasants," he muttered under his breath, his voice tinged with disdain. "Always preoccupied with the mundane necessities of life, of survival without trying to achieve greater things.¡± ¡°Have you ever gone a day without food, Doctor?¡± Uncharacteristic of him, Kerberos asked a question. Doctor Entress''s gaze flickered with annoyance at the unexpected interruption, but he recovered quickly, a sardonic smile curling his lips. He regarded Kerberos with a mixture of amusement and condescension. "Ah, Kerberos," he chuckled, his voice carrying a patronizing edge. "You misunderstand. It''s not about the absence of food or the trivialities of survival. It''s about the principles we uphold, the pursuits we deem worthy of our time and intellect." He gestured around the immaculate room as if inviting Kerberos to appreciate the stark contrast between their surroundings and the squalor of the slums. "Peasants," he continued, his tone dripping with disdain, "they are fixated on their daily toils, blind to the enlightenment that could elevate them beyond mere existence." Something rose deep inside from Kerberos. It was something cold and sharp. It was rage. Rage against ignorance and entitlement. He couldn¡¯t remember many things from his life before he became a Black Dog. But he remembered the hunger the relentless gnawing in his gut that no amount of stoicism or education could erase. It overrides what principle or pride one holds as a human being. When someone was hungry enough, they would eat anything. He remembered someone handing him a piece of bread. It was dry, stale, and tore his throat as it passed. But at that moment it felt like it was the most delicious thing in the world. ¡°What about you, ?!?¡¯?¡¯^+T+/*.¡± He remembered asking something to the person who handed him the bread but his memory was covered with static. ¡°I ate at the factory.¡± The person replied. At that moment the static spread all over his head. He touched his head as pain overtook his entire skull. ¡°Kerberos. KERBEROS!¡± Kerberos blinked, the echo of memories fading as Doctor Entress''s voice cut through the haze. He refocused on the doctor, the room around him snapping back into clarity. "They announced for you. Haven¡¯t you heard?¡± Doctor Entress¡¯s tone was impatient, tinged with a hint of annoyance at Kerberos¡¯s momentary lapse. Kerberos shook his head slowly, his mind still grappling with the tendrils of the past that threatened to ensnare him. Kerberos nodded in acknowledgment, fixing his clothes before exiting out of the room. Or saying that he threw himself out of the room would been better. "Overflow suspected. Black Dog Kerberos. Report to the main office," the announcement echoed in his mind, propelling him forward with a sense of urgency that belied the doctor''s disdainful gaze. He quickened his pace as the voice crackled over the intercom, his long strides echoing down the corridor as he made his way toward the main office. Each step Kerberos took echoed, the sound amplifying the emptiness of the space. His mind, however, was not empty. The lingering static from his fragmented memories buzzed like an incessant fly. He forced his focus on the task at hand: addressing the suspected overflow. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.As he approached the main office, the echoes of his steps grew louder, punctuated by the distant, muffled sounds of other Black Dogs and personnel moving about. He pushed open the heavy door, entering a room filled with a low hum of activity. The air here was thick with the scent of antiseptic, steel, and something unidentifiable¡ªperhaps a remnant of the dark fluids the Black Dogs carried within them. Everyone, including the other Black Dogs who were usually still as statues turned when he entered the room. Younger and less experienced ones directly averted their gazes, as if looking at him for too long would invite a fate they were not ready to face. At the center of the room stood the Commander, a figure of authority clad in a uniform that seemed more ceremonial than practical. He was clean shaved and Kerberos could smell the expensive cologne he sprayed all over himself. He was tall enough not to get dwarfed by Black Dogs and once he was muscular sufficient to match his height. His eyes, sharp and assessing, locked onto Kerberos as he entered. The Commander''s gaze was hard, unyielding, a stark contrast to the uncertain glances of the others in the room. ¡°Kerberos.¡± He loudly called out, his saggy skin shaking with vibrations. ¡°Number 47 was showing signs of overflow and was marked for termination. She didn¡¯t return the previous night. 15 and 41 were sent out but they also went missing. She was at Sector 7B. Kill her and retrieve the body.¡± Kerberos nodded sharply, understanding the severity of his task. Black Dogs were given numbers instead of names until they proved themselves useful. Number 47, like him, was a Black Dog¡ªa soldier altered beyond human limits by the injection of Black Blood. He knew her. She was a twitchy, meek girl. Everyone knew that she would break. Without a word, Kerberos turned and exited the main office, his mind already calculating the quickest route to Sector 7B. The air outside the office was cooler, with black fog covering the sun. As Kerberos moved swiftly through the winding streets, the wretchedness clear with every step. The smell of decay and rot was omnipresent here, a constant reminder of the poverty and desperation that plagued the city''s lower districts. Children played in the dirt, their faces smeared with grime, while adults huddled in groups, discussing whatever scraps of news they had managed to gather. Their discussions ended the moment they saw him. Even though monsters only come out at night, the presence of a Black Dog meant one thing. Trouble. Kerberos moved through the crowd like a ghost, his presence parting the sea of humanity with a mixture of fear and awe. He could feel their eyes on him, some filled with dread, others with a flicker of hope, as if his appearance might bring some semblance of order to their chaotic lives. But he was not here to be a savior. Sector 7B was a desolate part of the city, with light barely reaching even during the day, and the air was thick with the smell of rust and neglect. Kerberos''s senses were on high alert as he entered the sector. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the occasional distant clatter of debris or the soft rustle of rodents scurrying about. He knew he had to find Number 47 before her overflow could cause more harm. Overflow was a nightmare, transforming Black Dogs into something far more monstrous, their bodies and minds twisted by the very enhancements that gave them strength. As he moved deeper into the sector, Kerberos¡¯s mind drifted back to Number 47. She had been a quiet presence among the Black Dogs, always on the edge of breaking. He remembered her haunted eyes, the way she flinched at every loud noise. Her overflow was inevitable, a tragic end that was all too common among their kind. Why? One question filled his mind. Why? It was obvious that she would break. She would lose herself. Why turn her into a Black Dog? Why inject the Black Blood into her veins when it was clear that she would overflow? Kerberos pushed the question from his mind, focusing instead on the task at hand. The streets of Sector 7B were eerily quiet, the usual background noise of the city replaced by an oppressive silence. He scanned the area, his heightened senses picking up on every movement, every whisper of sound. Suddenly, a soft noise caught his attention¡ªa faint, regular tapping, like the sound of a liquid dripping to the ground. He slowly grasped his sword as he walked like a predator, silent and hidden. He soon came across the body of Number 15. Viscous black blood covered the entire street and his body was torn into two pieces. Yet, despite his grievous wounds, he was still conscious. ¡°She¡­ She is too far gone.¡± Kerberos knelt beside Number 15, his eyes scanning the scene with a cold detachment. The younger Black Dog¡¯s body was a gruesome sight, torn asunder by the ferocity of Number 47¡¯s overflow. His face, pale and covered in sweat was twisted in pain, but there was a flicker of recognition in his eyes as he met Kerberos¡¯s gaze. ¡°Number 47¡­ she¡­ she¡¯s gone mad,¡± Number 15 whispered, his voice strained and filled with a desperate urgency. ¡°She¡¯s¡­ stronger than we thought. Be careful¡­¡± Kerberos nodded, his grip tightening on his sword. ¡°Rest now. Your suffering is over.¡± With a swift, merciful strike, he ended Number 15¡¯s pain, his black blood mingling with the darkness that surrounded them. Kerberos rose to his feet, walking towards the dripping sound. His senses were on high alert, every nerve tingling with anticipation. The alley opened into a small courtyard, and there, bathed in the dim light filtering through the broken rooftops, stood Number 47. Branches of thorny dried-up vines exiting out of her body wrapped the surrounding area, invasive and consuming. Several people were wrapped by them including Number 41. Their forms were barely recognizable, distorted by the twisted vines that emanated from Number 47''s overflowing body. Vines entered every orifice they found, tearing and mingling the poor souls. The only reason Kerberos could recognize Number 41 was because, unlike others, the blood dripping down was black. Number 47 herself was kneeling on the ground. Her hands covered her face while she made crying noises. Her body was still humanoid besides the branches exiting out of her body. Kerberos gripped his sword tightly. He would lunge forward and finish this in one, clean strike before she could detect her. It would be painless for both of them. Just as he shifted his weight, she raised her head, blood falling on her face. ¡°Ah, it is raining.¡± Kerberos hesitated. Her voice was so innocent and childlike that for the first time in his life, Kerberos hesitated. Even when he was against the biggest or most numerous monsters, he never hesitated. Yet, at that moment he froze up. The moment of hesitation felt like an eternity. Kerberos¡¯s mind raced, grappling with the conflicting emotions that surged within him. ¡°Why are you here?¡± she asked, her eyes wide and filled with a strange mixture of fear and confusion. The vines around her writhed as if responding to her emotions, tightening their grip on the unfortunate souls entangled within them. Kerberos took a cautious step forward, his grip on his sword firm but his movements slow and deliberate. ¡°Number 47, you are in a state of overflow.¡± She slowly raised her head, taking in her surroundings. ¡°Ah, I see.¡± She started to giggle. The giggling grew louder, echoing off the narrow walls of the courtyard. The sound was unsettling, a stark contrast to the eerie silence that had blanketed the area moments before. Number 47¡¯s eyes darted around, taking in the sight of the twisted vines and the lifeless bodies they held. ¡°It¡¯s funny, isn¡¯t it?¡± she said, her voice lilting with a childlike innocence that belied the horrors she had wrought. ¡°Daddy promised me that he would bring me roses. Red roses. Beautiful roses.¡± Kerberos tightened his grip on his sword, his muscles coiled like a spring ready to release. He could see the madness in her eyes, the way her mind had fractured under the strain of the Black Blood. There was no saving her now, no bringing her back from the brink. ¡°But he never did. They said that lamps would protect us. They said that smell would avert the monsters. But it didn¡¯t.¡± ¡°You must be put down,¡± Kerberos said, his voice steady. ¡°It¡¯s the only way to end your suffering.¡± Number 47¡¯s laughter abruptly stopped, and she looked at him with a mixture of sorrow and resignation. She then looked at her victims. Vines tightened around them, spraying gore and blood everywhere. ¡°Ah, red roses. Beautiful roses.¡± Kerberos didn¡¯t respond. He couldn¡¯t afford to be drawn into her words, couldn¡¯t allow himself to feel anything that might weaken his resolve. He took a step forward, raising his sword. ¡°Farewell, 47.¡± With a swift, fluid motion, he lunged at her, his sword slicing through the air with lethal precision. But just as he was about to strike, the vines exploded into motion, writhing and twisting in a chaotic dance. They lashed out at him, forcing him to parry and dodge. Number 47 screamed, a sound of pure agony and rage, and the vines grew thicker and more aggressive. Kerberos was forced to retreat, his movements quick and calculated as he avoided the deadly tendrils. He could feel the dark energy radiating from her, the power of the Black Blood gone wild. Emotions. Black Dogs were trained to suppress their emotions. What emotion present was beaten out of them during their training, way before Black Blood was administered. They were starved, beaten, and tortured to make them lose the ability to feel. The aim of their training was to turn them into blank states. The reason was in front of him. If a Black Dog felt emotion the Black Blood overflowed from their body. As Kerberos dodged the vines, Number 47 shed the last remains of her humanity. Her body was still vaguely humanoid, but it had undergone a radical and terrifying transformation. Her skin, once smooth and pale, had taken on a bark-like texture, rough and gnarled, with patches of thorny vines erupting from beneath. These vines twisted and coiled around her limbs, merging with her flesh in a symbiotic embrace that gave her an eerie, otherworldly appearance. The branches and vines that sprouted from her body were covered in thorns, each one dripping with a dark, viscous sap that resembled blood. These vines moved with a life of their own, writhing and undulating in a constant state of agitation as if they were an extension of her rage and pain. Kerberos moved with deadly grace, his sword slashing through the air, severing vines with each stroke. Yet, the vines seemed endless, regenerating faster than he could cut them down. Number 47''s eyes followed his every movement, her gaze a mixture of sorrow and madness. With a powerful surge, Kerberos broke through the web of vines, closing the distance between himself and Number 47. His sword gleamed with a dark, lethal light as he brought it down in a decisive strike. But in that moment, the vines surged again, a wall of thorns rising to meet his blade. The impact threw him back, his sword shuddering in his grip. Number 47 stood amidst the chaos, her body a twisted mass of thorns and branches. Her laughter echoed through the courtyard, a sound that seemed to pierce the very air. ¡°A new toy. Just for me.¡± Kerberos didn¡¯t answer, his focus unwavering. His training and instincts drove him forward, his mind a steely fortress against her words. He knew better than to engage with the broken logic of an overflowing Black Dog. Every second of hesitation could be fatal. He gritted his teeth, launching himself at Number 47 once more. This time, his movements were not just precise but fueled by an unyielding resolve. He dodged and weaved through the vines, each strike of his sword cleaving through the thicket with deadly efficiency. Number 47¡¯s vines lashed out in desperation, but Kerberos was relentless. He could see the exhaustion in her eyes, the cracks in her defense growing wider with each passing moment. With a final, powerful swing, he severed the last of the vines, his blade plunging into her chest. Number 47 gasped, her eyes widening in shock. For a moment, the madness seemed to lift, and she looked at Kerberos with a clarity that had been absent for so long. ¡°It is under the city. I can feel it. The source of our suffering. The door¡­¡± Kerberos withdrew his sword, the black blood staining its edge. He watched as Number 47¡¯s body crumpled to the ground, the vines withering away to nothing. The courtyard fell silent once more, the oppressive stillness returning. No More It was raining. Heavy rain falling to the ground and washing the city would been seen as a blessing at best in other places or a minor nuisance that slowed down daily life at worst but here it was different. Clouds that carried the water, something that allowed life to take root and continue were mixed with the black smoke exiting out of the factories. Their white form was strangled until they lost what pureness they held and turned black. When the conditions were right, they rained upon the city as acid. It was almost like they were taking revenge on those who corrupted them. The acid tore through already dilapidated buildings and flooded the lower levels. The air was filled with the harsh smell of it. Every breath filled the city dweller¡¯s nostrils with a stinging and bitter sensation. Kerberos knew that several people were going to drown tonight. Even without the acidic properties of the rain, the city wasn¡¯t built to handle even the most lightest of drizzles. The water falling quickly turned the dust covering the city to mud and flooded basements and this night the rain was too fast and heavy. Kerberos felt nothing about it. He knew that he should have at least felt something about it. Feel bad about it. But nothing rose up inside his chest. Was it because of the Black Blood running through his veins? Or because of the training he received the dull his emotions? A part of him wished they were the reason. He wished that he could push the blame for his apathy to things other than himself. He wished that he was different from than monsters he had been hunting for more than 20 years. Kerberos walked through the rain, his black trench coat doing little to shield him from the acidic downpour. The fabric sizzled slightly as droplets ate away at its surface. He pulled up his hood to protect his face from the acid, even though it basically did nothing to help. He passed by the huddled forms of people seeking shelter under crumbling awnings and makeshift tents. Their eyes, hollow and defeated, followed him with a mixture of fear and curiosity. They knew what he was, even if they didn¡¯t know who he was. The black eyes, and the pallid skin marked with the telltale signs of the Black Blood, made him stand out even in this forsaken place. He gazed as the people tried to keep their lamps lit up. They are said to deter monsters away. It wasn¡¯t rare for workers to be paid with mostly fuel for the lamps instead of money. Did it work? No. Kerberos know for a fact that they didn¡¯t. Not only he had seen countless homes broken into while the lamps were still burning, but his own family was also slaughtered while they had the lamp on. It was a lie to pay less. He looked at the people once again. He could see two types of people trying to prepare for the night and the monsters. The first ones were the lowest of the low. Cripple and sick. Those with no families. They simply had no one or nowhere to go. The other type was the people who threw themselves outside as their homes were destroyed by the rain. Both were unlucky and Kerberos doubted if any of them could see the sunrise. He moved on, his steps heavy in the thickening mud. The acidic rain, mingled with the grime and smoke, created a toxic slurry that clung to his boots. His destination was unclear as he was given the mission to patrol the city just like every other Black Dog. Find and kill every monster in the city. Only by doing that people can be safe. What a load of bullshit. They were never ordered to protect or escort people, except higher-ups. The city could somehow find enough resources to pay the scientists and city guards high salaries, supply them with these huge specially made swords, or even keep building more factories but they never had enough resources to build a shelter for the people. He stopped to think. It was something that wasn¡¯t fit for a Black Dog. They were meant to be weapons. They weren¡¯t meant to think for themselves. Perhaps it was the years of service, he was rusted and damaged just like one of the machines in the factories. The rain pounded harder, each drop a stinging reminder of the city''s decay. Kerberos forced himself to keep moving, to push away the thoughts that threatened to overwhelm him. Yet, unlike many nights before, he was unsuccessful. Number 47¡¯s last words repeated in his head. Normally he would not care about it. Overflown Ones were mad men and women who sprouted all kinds of nonsensical things. ¡°It is under the city. I can feel it. The source of our suffering. The door¡­¡± Her words echoed in his mind once again. He shook his head to dislodge Number 47¡¯s final words from his mind. As his head moved, he noticed that he stopped just in front of a manhole. It was clogged and covered with mud and dirt. The only reason Kerberos could notice it was because of the rain washing away some of the stuff covering it. Without thinking, Kerberos leaned towards it picked the metal cover with one arm, and tossed it to the side. He took one step and jumped down. He landed with a splash in the sewer below, the acrid stench of the rain mixing with the foul odor of the waste that flowed beneath the city. Any normal person would have gagged and threw up but he was used to it. The tunnel was dark, but his enhanced vision pierced the gloom easily. Black Blood coursing through his veins not only gave him physical prowess but also heightened his senses to near-superhuman levels. Kerberos moved through the tunnel, the sound of his boots echoing off the damp walls. He had no clear destination or aim, only the gnawing feeling that something was drawing him deeper into the bowels of the city. As he ventured further, he noticed signs of life¡ªor rather the signs of monsters passing through the sewers. A frown appeared on his face. Were the monsters traveling through the sewers to attack the city? How did no one notice it? The deeper he ventured, the more obvious the signs became. Claw marks on the walls, half-eaten carcasses of small animals, and a pervasive, unnatural chill that seeped into his bones despite the Black Blood''s influence. Kerberos tightened his grip on his weapon, every sense on high alert. As he continued, the tunnel opened up into a wider chamber, partially illuminated by a dim, flickering light that seemed to emanate from the walls themselves. It was as if the very stones were alive, pulsing with an eerie, bioluminescent glow. Kerberos paused, scanning the chamber for any signs of movement. A metallic sound caught his attention. He slowed his breathing as his massive frame melded into shadows. He gripped his weapon tightly, ready to strike down whatever threat was looming around the corner. However, he wasn¡¯t ready for what was ahead of him. It was a hatch. Metallic and mechanical, it slowly creaked open. A pale and thin arm popped out of the hatch. Soon another one joined it. And another one. And another one. Numerous arms pulled the body of the creature out of the hatch. It looked at Kerberos with eyeless sockets and stretched. Kerberos lost no time. He lunged forward, splitting the creature into two while jamming his sword into the hatch, stopping it from closing. The creature''s screech echoed through the chamber, reverberating off the walls as its bisected form writhed on the ground. Green, ichorous blood oozed from the severed halves, the smell of it mixing with the stench of the sewers and the acidic rain. Kerberos''s senses were assaulted from all sides, but he remained focused, his grip on his weapon steady. With a swift motion, he yanked his sword from the hatch, ignoring the acidic burn of the creature''s blood on his hands. He needed to see what was beyond it. The hatch, now jammed open by the remains of the creature, revealed a narrow, moldy passage descending into darkness. ¡°It is under the city. I can feel it. The source of our suffering. The door¡­¡± 47¡¯s words rang in his head as he looked down upon the darkness. Kerberos hesitated for a moment. He knew that descending further would take him into uncharted territory. He already deviated from his mission. What would happen if he went further? What he would find? ¡°The source of our suffering..¡± He repeated to himself. Then he jumped down. It was a long way down. Long enough to break a normal person¡¯s legs. But he was no normal person. ¡°The damn hatch isn¡¯t closing.¡± A frustrated voice complained as Kerberos landed. ¡°Stupid beast must be stuck. Just wait for a sec-What the fuck?!¡± Kerberos took in his surroundings while ignoring two coat-wearing people. He was in a glass box. The chamber he found himself in was vast, a stark contrast to the claustrophobic sewers above. It was illuminated by a harsh, artificial light that made the shadows seem even darker. The walls were lined with machinery, tubes, and wires snaking in every direction. Large tanks filled with a greenish liquid housed grotesque, half-formed creatures suspended in eerie stillness. The two figures in lab coats gawked at him, their expressions shifting from surprise to fear as they realized who¡ªor what¡ªhad just crashed into their secret domain. ¡°Call for backup!¡± one of them shouted, fumbling with a device clipped to his belt. The other grabbed a nearby weapon, a sleek, high-tech rifle, and aimed it at Kerberos. Kerberos ignored him. Not only did his shaky hands give away his inexperience with the weapon he held, but he was also spread from him with this glass box. Instead, he focused on the horrid scene in front of him. His eyes followed massive amounts of blood to its source. A mass of flesh, bone, and skin which used to be a woman was chained to a cold, metallic table. Her legs and arms were gone and the marks on the stumps told Kerberos that they were amputated with surgical precision. A tube connected to a machine filled with a white goo filled her mouth. Her stomach was torn open. Kerberos could deduce that the wounds were caused by something tearing its way out of her stomach instead of something impaling her stomach as her ribs protruded outside and her guts were on the floor. Her eyes were wide with terror. Kerberos slowly walked towards her and closed her eyes with a gentleness that surprised even himself. ¡°Shit! Shit! What will we do? It is a fucking Black Dog!¡± Unarmed one tugged the coat of the other one. ¡°Calm the fuck down! That box is made to hold the monsters! He can¡¯t get out until the backup arrives!¡± Contrary to his words, his voice was shaky. Kerberos closed his eyes and took in the situation. He recognized the sterile walls and smell. He recognized those white coats. This was a laboratory, a place where monsters were created, not just studied and it was made by the same people who made him, made Black Dogs. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. The people who had turned him into a Black Dog were also responsible for the very creatures he had been fighting all these years. The implications were staggering, and the rage that had been buried deep within him began to surface and he was about to find a use for it as people began to surround him. Unlike the panicked scientists, those people wore some kind of armor and carried their weapons in a trained manner. ¡°Black Dog, Kerberos. Why are you here?¡± A large man called out to him. He sounded confident but his words had the opposite effect on his man. ¡°Kerberos?¡± ¡°A named Black Dog! Fuck this!¡± Kerberos didn''t respond immediately. Instead, he gauged the situation. The scientists and guards surrounding him seemed well-prepared, their weapons trained on him with precision. He knew they were aware of his capabilities; a single misstep could trigger a deadly response. The large man stepped forward, clearly the leader. "I asked you a question, Black Dog. Why are you here?" His tone was demanding, but Kerberos could hear his confidence diminishing. He grasped his sword tighter. ¡°To end our suffering.¡± Kerberos met the man''s gaze with a cold, unwavering stare. The leader''s face twisted with anger. "Enough!" he barked. "Seize him!" One of the scientists pressed down a button and the glass box started to rise. The guards moved in, their weapons at the ready. With a swift, fluid motion, Kerberos lunged forward, his sword slicing through the air with deadly precision. The first guard fell, his weapon clattering to the floor as he crumpled. The others hesitated, their fear palpable as they faced the wrath of a Black Dog. Shots rang out, the deafening noise echoing in the confined space. Even though he never faced firearms before, Kerberos weaved between shots with inhuman agility. He dispatched the guards one by one, each strike calculated and lethal. Huge metal meant to be used against monsters tore through armored men, blood splattering the walls, mingling with the green ichor of the creatures in the tanks. The leader backed away, his bravado shattered. ¡°You don¡¯t understand what you are doing!¡± He stammered, his eyes wide with panic. Kerberos ignored him, his focus unyielding. He approached the large man, his sword gleaming with a deadly promise. ¡°You create monsters here. I kill monsters. It is that simple.¡± The large man''s eyes darted around, looking for any means of escape. ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s that simple, Kerberos.¡± A sly voice echoed. Soon the hunched figure of Doctor Entress entered Kerberos¡¯ vision. He was accompanied by two large garbed beings. These were not ordinary guards; their movements were too fluid, too precise. Enhanced, like him. ¡°I told you that you were too good at your job. I knew that you would find your way here one day.¡± Entress spoke with a confidence that bordered on arrogance. ¡°You have a lot of questions, don¡¯t you? Come on, let me show you around.¡± He turned around and started to walk away. Kerberos followed him while holding his sword tightly. The two guards flanked him, their bodies hidden behind loose white garbs they were wearing. Entress led them through a labyrinth of sterile corridors, each one identical to the last. The walls were lined with glass windows, behind which various monstrous experiments writhed and twisted in their containment. The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident."You see, Kerberos," Entress began, his voice dripping with a smugness that grated on Kerberos'' nerves, "everything here is a part of a greater plan. The monsters, the Black Dogs, even the city itself¡ªit''s all a grand experiment." Kerberos remained silent, his grip on his sword tightening as he looked at the several females chained to tables. Their state was nothing short of horrific. Limbs amputated, they were kept alive by tubes, a macabre parody of life. But the most revolting sight was their swollen bellies. They were pregnant. With monsters. The urge to strike down Entress where he stood was overwhelming, but he needed answers. Entress noticed Kerberos'' intense gaze and grinned, mistaking his horror for curiosity. "Interested?" Entress taunted, misinterpreting the fury and disgust in Kerberos'' eyes. The horrors inflicted upon these women were beyond comprehension, yet Entress seemed oblivious to the depths of his depravity. "They were part of our first experiments," Entress continued, his tone disturbingly casual. "We knew that the blood and flesh of an Old One changed people. It was the key to our ascension. But adults couldn¡¯t bear the transformation; their bodies were already set in their ways. So, we turned to the opposite end of the spectrum¡ªbabies. We experimented repeatedly, determining how much blood to inject and at which developmental stage to do so." They entered a large room, filled with complex machinery and massive tanks containing grotesque abominations in various stages of development. Scientists in white coats moved about, monitoring readouts and adjusting controls, barely sparing a glance at Kerberos and his captors. ¡°What is an Old One?¡± Kerberos suppressed his anger and managed to snarl out a question. Entress looked back at Kerberos, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Ah, the Old Ones," he began, his tone almost reverent. "They are ancient beings, predating humanity by eons. They were here way before our ancestors were on treetops. Way before even the first dinosaurs walked the piece of dirt we call Earth. They ruled this planet with a dominance we could only imagine.¡± He stopped to take a deep breath. ¡°They had everything. Power, immortality, and knowledge. They had so much that they had nothing left to do in this world, in this plane of existence.¡± It was almost like Entress was in an orgasmic bliss while talking about them. ¡°So they left. They left their earthly bodies and ascended to a higher plane.¡± Kerberos took in Entress'' words with a mixture of disbelief and rage. The monstrous experiments, the exploitation of innocent lives, the lies and deceit¡ªall of it now connected in a horrifying web. The weight of the revelations pressed heavily upon him so much that he couldn¡¯t realize how far they had walked and where they were right now for a second. He raised his head to see the massive black form suspended with chains. It was unmoving and several tubes were connected to its body. Kerberos stared at the massive black form suspended in chains. The creature was a grotesque amalgamation of flesh and shadow, its form vaguely humanoid but distorted and twisted in ways that defied natural anatomy. The tubes connected to its body pulsed rhythmically, feeding it with a dark, viscous substance that seemed to flow from the very core of the chamber. "What is this thing?" Kerberos asked, his voice strained as he struggled to contain his rage and horror. Entress chuckled, a sound that grated on Kerberos'' nerves. ¡°Amazing, isn¡¯t it? The source of Black Blood. The discarded body of an Old One. The key to our ascension.¡± Kerberos''s gaze remained locked on the massive, monstrous form suspended before him. It was motionless. Every living being moves a little as their heart beats as a side effect of their body functioning. Yet this being was fully still. It was unnerving and Kerberos felt his eyes stinging as he looked at the creature. Yet he couldn¡¯t tear his eyes away from it. This abomination, this lifeless, massive form, was the discarded body of an Old One¡ªthe source of all the Black Blood and the very cause of the city''s suffering. Kerberos'' gaze was fixed on the creature, the rage within him bubbling uncontrollably. The monsters he had been fighting, the people he had been hunting¡ªeverything was tied to this dark, primordial source. The notion that his and other¡¯s entire existence as Black Dogs was a mere cog in a twisted experiment aimed at achieving a so-called "ascension" filled him with an unbearable fury. ¡°This ends. Now.¡± Kerberos'' knuckles whitened around the hilt of his sword. Entress¡¯s smile faltered for a moment before he clicked his tongue in disappointment. ¡°Shame. You had potential.¡± Without warning, one of the garbed figures lunged towards him. A serrated polearm aimed for Kerberos¡¯s throat with the intent of tearing it open. The strike which was strong enough to pierce through a steel door pushed Kerberos back several steps. It tore off its garbs and locked eyes with Kerberos. Its eyes were familiar. A pure white creature started to circle Kerberos. Entress watched them intently in a safe distance, protected by the other guard. ¡°Oh, it recognizes you. I knew that your blood was special!¡± Entress cheered, clapping his hands in a twisted display of glee. ¡°It¡¯s a shame you and her had no other relatives. Her body could only produce two.¡± The realization slowly crawled inside Kerberos¡¯s brain. ¡°That¡¯s impossible. She died that night.¡± The creature lunged at him with feral speed, its polearm flashing in the harsh light of the laboratory. Kerberos met its attack with a fierce counterstrike, his sword slicing through the air with lethal precision. It was a head taller than Kerberos with elongated and sinewy limbs to match. Unlike many of the monsters he faced before it wasn¡¯t completely bald as pristine white feathers thinly covered its wrists and ankles. ¡°Not all Old Ones left this realm at the same time. Some remained longer. Some of them were with us when we started to become sapient. Perhaps thanks to one of their meddling.¡± Kerberos could hear Entress¡¯s voice between heavy clanging. ¡°They ruled us, taught us, and sometimes they breed with us. You and your sister had their blood. Thanks to that you are better attuned to Black Blood. Shame. I had high hopes for you.¡± Kerberos parried another strike, the force of the blow sending vibrations up his arm. The creature¡¯s attacks were relentless, each one more ferocious than the last. ¡°You. You did the same things to my older sister.¡± Kerberos growled, his voice thick with rage and sorrow. ¡°You used her body, her blood, to create these abominations.¡± Entress¡¯s laughter was a cold, hollow sound. ¡°I stitched her up after her first birth. That¡¯s when I understood that she was special. It took a lot of effort to keep her alive until her second birth you know. But it is impossible to stitch her body after the second one. Well, she served her purpose.¡± Kerberos¡¯s fury reached a boiling point. The creature, driven by a primal connection to him, fought with a savage intensity. Kerberos matched it, blow for blow, each strike fueled by a deep, personal vendetta. ¡°She deserved better,¡± Kerberos spat, his sword clashing against the creature''s polearm, sending sparks flying. ¡°You turned her into a tool, a vessel for your twisted ambitions.¡± Entress¡¯s cold eyes watched the battle with detached interest. ¡°Her sacrifice paved the way for progress, for the ascension of mankind. You should be proud.¡± Kerberos''s rage flared. ¡°Proud? Of what? Of the suffering, the pain, the loss? You call this progress?¡± He delivered a powerful blow, slicing through the creature''s defense and sending it staggering back. Red blood unlike the monster¡¯s and Black Dog¡¯s dripped down from its wound. Yet it closed at in an instant not even leaving a scar. It straightened its back and thrust its weapon once again, piercing Kerberos¡¯s stomach. It lifted Kerberos to its eye level and inspected him as he coughed black blood, staining the creature¡¯s white skin. Kerberos, hanging from the polearm, locked eyes with the creature. At that moment, a silent understanding passed between them. Perhaps it was because he learned their origins, the look on their monstrous faces looked innocent. All the monsters he killed were children corrupted against their will, taken from their mothers, and used as tools. For a second Kerberos doubted they even understood what they were doing to the people. With a final surge of strength, Kerberos gripped the polearm, pulling himself closer by impaling himself deeper. The creature, born of his sister''s suffering, was a victim too. With a roar of defiance, he drove his sword into the creature''s chest. The blade sank deep. The creature stumbled back, its grip on its polearm loosening causing Kerberos to fall to the ground. He didn¡¯t get the chance to stand up as the other creature ran to its brother¡¯s help, ignoring Erntress''s shouting to stay at his side. It helped its brother to pull the sword out of its chest and together they stabbed Kerberos repeatedly. Kerberos lay on the cold, hard floor, his vision dimming as he felt his life slipping away. The pain was sharp but he was used to all kinds of pain. What hurt him really was the fact that this was the end. He learned this much and came here for what? To die without changing anything? The creatures, his sister''s children, stood over him, their pure white eyes filled with a mix of confusion and sorrow. Kerberos looked at them with eyes bearing no hate, his vision fading away with every second as the blood left his body and spears broke his bones. ¡°Sorry¡­ I didn¡¯t¡­ get to raise you.¡± Everything went dark. ¡­ ¡­. ¡­¡­ Kerberos reached for the black door. Entress watched Kerberos''s body grow still, the life draining from his eyes. He motioned to the remaining guards, who moved to dispose of the Black Dog¡¯s body. But as they approached, a low, guttural sound emerged from Kerberos¡¯s throat. Entress froze, his eyes widening in disbelief. Kerberos¡¯s body convulsed, and the black blood that pooled beneath him began to move, seeping back into his wounds. The chains that bound the Old One''s body rattled as if reacting to Kerberos¡¯s transformation. Kerberos¡¯s eyes snapped open. He rose slowly, the wounds on his body closing as the black blood continued to flow into him. Entress could no longer see his face or eyes. The creatures that had stabbed him backed away, their eyes wide with a mixture of fear and recognition. Entress stumbled backward, his hands shaking with excitement. The guards looked at Entress for any kind of order but he was so busy with witnessing the birth of a new Old One. Kerberos, or what used to be Kerberos extended his arm towards the guards. He clenched his fist and the guards turned into clouds of red mist. Kerberos¡¯s newly transformed form loomed over the chamber, an almost ethereal presence of dark power. Shadows wrapped around his body as something indescribable covered his face, obscuring it from the lower beings. ¡°Ahahahah! I succeed! I succeed!¡± Entress shouted like a madman as he looked at Kerberos walking towards him. No. It wasn¡¯t that Kerberos was moving, it was the space itself twisting and shattering to allow him to move without moving. He stopped in front of Entress and grabbed him by the throat, lifting him into the air and snapping his neck. The room fell into a heavy silence, punctuated only by the distant, rhythmic thumping of machinery. Kerberos surveyed the laboratory, his newly gained senses taking in the full extent of the horrors contained within. The tubes and vats that held the remains of the Old Ones, the records detailing the twisted experiments, the countless lives sacrificed for this dark endeavor¡ªall of it lay bare before him. He approached the suspended body of the Old One, the source of the Black Blood. The chains rattled as he reached out, his hand extending to touch the grotesque form. As his fingers made contact, the massive form began to react. The dark blood and viscera started to shift, coalescing into a new shape, one that resonated with Kerberos¡¯s will. Kerberos turned his attention to the remaining garbed figures. They were his sister¡¯s children, born of the same blood, yet twisted into abominations by the very forces he now sought to dismantle. He approached them, his presence commanding respect and fear. ¡°You are free now.¡± Thousands of distinct voices spoke as Kerberos opened his mouth. Kerberos¡¯s newly transformed form loomed over the crumbling laboratory, his power resonating through the very fabric of reality. The reanimated Old One, now under his control, tore through the chamber, its form merging with the shadows to become an unstoppable force. The city¡¯s doom was sealed. As Kerberos and the Old One¡¯s amalgamated power reached the surface, the dark energy radiated outward, engulfing the city. Citizens in their homes, on the streets, and within the towering structures felt the oppressive presence. Their eyes widened in terror as an unnatural darkness began to consume the city. People stumbled in confusion, their cries and pleas echoing through the streets. Yet, the more they struggled, the more the darkness seemed to suffocate them. With a deliberate gesture, Kerberos willed the darkness to spread further. The streets were swallowed by an ever-expanding shadow, and as it reached each individual, they vanished without a trace. The transformation was instantaneous; one moment, people were there, and the next, they ceased to exist. Their screams faded into silence as if they had never been. ¡°No more. No more suffering.¡± He felt the weight of what he had done, yet there was a cold detachment. The city had been a mere experiment, a place of suffering and manipulation. Countless people were born into poverty, working in inhuman conditions until they fell ill due to exhaustion and pollution. They were starved, uneducated, and beyond saving. In his eldritch mind, the eradication of the city was the only solution to end its pollution and corruption, to stop the endless cycle of suffering. No more suffering. The city vanished, and with it, the pain and torment that had plagued its inhabitants for so long. The world outside the city continued, unaware of the cataclysm that had occurred. Life went on as it always did, but somewhere in the shadows, a new power stirred, waiting to be discovered.