Warm water descended on a pair of bloody hands while a man hummed a tune that only existed in his childhood. A smirk pulled toward the corner of his lips.

  "Of course the operation was a success. It was me, after all."

  As he was about to turn off the faucet, his eyes froze as he looked at his reflection.

  "No way… I'm getting gray hairs already? I'm not that old."

  Shaking his head, he reminded himself that it's not about the looks, but the mindset.

  Finally drying off his hands with paper towels, he exited the staff bathroom. A tickle of joy teased Ashan while he imagined the gratitude of the child's parents.

  "I hope the trainee hasn't screwed anything up while I was away," he smiled. "This generation can be quite arrogant these days."

  As he reminisced about the former days as a youthful doctor, a man dashed from one of the corners of a hallway.

  Shouts could be heard behind him, commanding him to stop. But he displayed no indicators of halting. Ashan froze at the sudden turn of events.

  The fleeing man was wearing a patient's gown, and despite the barely noticeable limp, Ashan wasn't confident he could catch him safely.

  "Young man, stay right there!"

  As if the words were like wind, the man blew right past him.

  "If he hurts himself, that's on him," Ashan shrugged. "They may pay me a lot, but what's not in the job description, is simply not in the job description."

  Letting the muscular man sprint right past him, he couldn't help but wonder about the black piece of paper he was holding so tightly.

  A doctor's note? No way, he can't be that serious.

  Tossing the idea aside, he resumed towards his destination. He wouldn’t let this spectacle interfere with his work.

  After reaching his patient's door at the end of the hallway, he realized the floor beneath his feet had more tension than usual—sticky, even.

  A pool of red seeped beneath the door, painting the soles of his shoes.

  The window of the door mirrored the floor, obscuring anyone's sight that wanted to peer through.

  "Blood?" he weakly muttered. The scent tickled his nose. Periodic, erratic footsteps bled through the gap beneath. No words were exchanged inside. Only the sound of trampled blood persisted.

  The uptick of his pulse heightened when his hand clasped the cold handle. Unable to fathom his unnerving suspicion, his responsibility toward the patient remained.

  The door clicked open. The odor of the viscous fluid overwhelmed his initial sense of the situation’s severity.

  Peering through, he saw blood splattered across the crystal white floor. Torn fragments of skin and bone were sprinkled about like crumbs. Not even the walls were spared.

  A sharp tightening of his chest took hold of him. The diabolical sight stumped his urge to scream.

  The bed was empty. Gouges covered every foot of it.

  "Dominus?" he weakly called out to his trainee after mustering the strength to step inside.

  Being confronted with silence, he resolved to withdraw immediately.

  "Help..."

  A faint whisper responded from around the corner.

  Barely picking up the trace of his voice, Ashan reacted without delay.

  "My heavens! Dominus, wha—" He paused mid-sentence after turning the corner. Dominus lay slumped against a wall. His clothes were shredded, and his eyes were almost ghost-like. His skin was peeled wide like a band-aid. Patches of his flesh were missing. White, cracked bones punctured through his limbs.

  His left lung was wholly visible, struggling to conflate as it pressed against his fractured ribcage.

  "My god..."

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  Before Ashan could ring for a medical emergency, droplets of yellow thick liquid fell past his sight.

  Following the source, fear shadowed him after seeing death right in front of him.

  What met him were the black, sunken eyes of a little creature. Fangs protruded from its chin, caked with the same slimy substance.

  Its extra pair of arms held it locked to the ceiling. One of its two mouths was chewing something soft—but the sound of crunching was unmistakable.

  Then the other mouth opened. A childlike voice followed, jolting Ashan from his paralysis.

  "Meal... has returned."

  ---

  As much as Hezekiah wanted to take the elevators, he couldn’t risk getting stuck—nor would he have time to escape from his pursuers.

  Distant cries echoed outside the stairwell. From below and above.

  It has already begun.

  He was descending rapidly down the stairs, skipping multiple steps at a time. His foot slipped on several occasions, but the rail fortunately supported him. It didn’t matter that they weren’t chasing him anymore—all he had to do was reach the entrance.

  Flying down the flights of stairs never seemed to end. As if each level he reached, an additional one was shoved in between.

  The door of the floor below him burst open. A nurse scurried through and threw her entire weight at the door, slamming it shut. Streaks of blood trailed down her leg, and her clothes were tainted with blood and another sticky substance.

  Hezekiah paused mid-step, juggling the decision to pass or return the way he came. The consequences of trying to fight something unknown weren’t on his list—not to mention he might end up killing the woman in the process.

  A potent impact slammed against the door, inducing a yelp from the nurse. Its upper hinge dislodged while the piece of metal cascaded down the stairs.

  The iron door gave way after every bang. Hezekiah picked up on her soft mumbles, each barely discernible word carried desperation.

  Refusing to delay any longer, he pushed ahead. The nurse jumped after catching sight of him, which was just enough for the door to be fully busted down.

  Hezekiah was barely far enough not to be crushed by the door, but the same couldn’t be said for the nurse.

  Unable to spare a glance to check on her, a three-headed figure stood at the other end of the empty doorway. Hezekiah couldn’t wrap his head around what he was looking at.

  Each head was like a hybrid between a human and a snake. The arms were thick rubber tendrils, encased by sharp claws. Its legs were nothing but pure solid bone. Grimy purple scales paired with mismatched eyes—one human, one reptile—defied uniformity and reason.

  The white gown it wore could be the only thing considered normal, if it weren’t stained with blood and other fluids.

  Its tongue smacked against its lips. Its predatory gaze fixed on the prey. Goo oozed off its slit tongue, contaminating the air with its foul scent.

  The humanoid creature leapt, cracking the tile floor. The speed briefly caught Hezekiah off guard.

  He narrowly dodged its claws; only snippets of black hair got tangled within. The stair railing collapsed beneath the creature’s strike.

  He summoned the pen without a second thought.

  But before transitioning the pen into its flame state, the creature hissed and pressed its back against the wall, baring its viper fangs wide—but not taking a step forward.

  Hezekiah studied its odd reaction with intense focus. Tracing its line of vision, he quickly understood.

  "So even mindless freaks like you have something to fear," he murmured.

  He aimed the pen directly toward the hybrid. It buried its back deeper into the wall, crumbling the paint piece by piece.

  "Out of the way!" a voice shouted behind him.

  Not wasting time looking back, Hezekiah lunged to the side.

  A figure with a rose-colored sword brushed past him. Its sparkling light sent biting chills against his skin.

  In a mere moment, the creature was impaled squarely through its chest. Its beastly eyes fluttered. Blood sprayed like a sprinkler against its face. Her mouth twisted as the pungent odor stung her nose.

  Hezekiah watched the vigor of the creature visibly fade from its eyes. It tried to rip the sword out, to no avail—as if its strength had seeped off into a distant void.

  Another potential threat? And that sword… is she one of the Abnas that Hyonda mentioned?

  He tightened his grip on the pen after the beast’s moans ceased. Its back lay slumped against the wall, leaving a trail of blood behind.

  "Who are you? And what the hell is going on!?" Hezekiah spoke first, making sure a tone of urgency was present.

  She smiled softly after wiping her cheek clean of blood.

  "Stole the words right from my mouth. Nothing like this should be happening on this side of the world. So how should I know?" she said while twisting her hair.

  This side of the world? And this rarely happens. So much for staying under the radar.

  "But I wouldn’t go down if I were you, trust me. Unless you’re looking to be a snack."

  "It doesn’t matter. I’ll figure it out."

  If push came to shove, he’d use the pen. He wasn’t sure what rule had been violated to cause this—but he couldn’t imagine things getting better by staying put.

  The remnants of speckled blood on her sword began sinking into the blade. A brilliant velvet red shone, almost matching an evening sunset.

  "Oh my, didn’t know you enjoyed this flavor, Suna." She gently caressed her sword. "I know this isn’t what you truly desire. It’s not time yet."

  Her attention drifted toward the fallen beast.

  "After seeing something like that, you still think you can walk out of here?"

  Hezekiah nodded, which left her with a dissatisfied look.

  "The soon-to-die type?" she sighed. "That won’t do. Stay on this floor. It’s more likely the safest place for now. You can thank Yours Truly for that."

  "Thanks, but no thanks."

  A hand clasped his ankle as he took a step forward.

  "Can somebody, for the love of God, get me up already!?"