Some monsters hide in shadows. Others stare back at you.
Jerry hadn't slept.
He stood in front of the bathroom mirror, hands gripping the sink until his knuckles turned white.
His reflection looked back—skin paler, eyes darker. Shadows curled beneath his skin, moving when he breathed. This wasn't exhaustion anymore. It was transformation.
And it was accelerating.
"You're not human anymore, are you?"
The voice again.
It wasn't in the room—it was inside him. In the marrow of his bones. The Core was waking. Calling.
The knock on the door broke the silence.
His mother peeked in, holding a cup of tea.
"You've been quiet," she said gently. "Even more than usual."
Jerry forced a tired smile. "Just... school."
She hesitated. Then crossed the room and placed the cup on the desk beside his bed.
"Jerry..." she whispered. "I don't know what's happening to you. But please don't shut me out."
His heart cracked. She had no idea what kind of monster her son was becoming.
And he couldn't tell her. Not yet.
That afternoon, the news hit.
A massacre on the east docks.
Civilians ripped apart. Survivors spoke of a horned creature, ten feet tall, wreathed in fire and metal. An S-class monster.
The military was dispatched.
No survivors among them.
Jerry stood in front of the TV in the living room, numb. The screen flickered with smoke and blood. His mother gripped the remote tightly, face pale.
"This is the third attack in two weeks," the news anchor said. "Authorities are calling it the work of a new breed of monsters... smarter, stronger, and coordinated."
Jerry slipped away that evening, hoodie pulled over his head. He couldn't sleep, couldn't sit still. The Abyss Core inside him stirred with every heartbeat, like it wanted to find the monster.
He didn't know why. But something deep in his gut told him: that creature wasn't random.
It was calling him.
He reached the dockyard by midnight. Fog drifted across the water. The silence was wrong—too quiet. No gulls. No wind.
Then he saw it.
A figure standing among the burning wreckage of a transport truck.
Tall. Muscular. Skin made of cracked molten stone. Horns curled from its forehead, and where its eyes should've been, there were only empty sockets burning with crimson light.
It turned. Saw him.
Smiled.
"You're the Abyssborn, aren't you?" the creature rumbled. "Good. I came to see what makes you worth the prophecy."
Jerry's hands clenched into fists.
The shadow moved inside him.
And this time, he didn't resist.
His vision blurred.
The world slowed.
His bones stretched. Skin hardened. Eyes bled black. The Abyssborn form snapped into place—claws gleaming, back arched, body lean and monstrous.
His voice changed—lower, sharper. "Then let's test that prophecy."
The creature charged. The dock shattered beneath its weight.
Jerry met it head-on.
Claw against fist. Shadow against flame.
The impact blew a crater through the pier.
And the real battle hadn't even begun yet.
( To be continued...)