The moment the Bride of Hunger died, the dungeon screamed.

  Not a sound. Not truly. It was deeper than that—a howl that cracked the mind, that made bones itch and blood turn to ice. The room around Malachai convulsed. Walls twisted like intestines writhing in agony. The black cathedral groaned as if its spine had snapped. Flesh peeled away from the columns. Chains fell like rain.

  The world was collapsing.

  Malachai fell to one knee, clutching the Essence Core in his left hand, the Hungering Veil draped across his other arm like a shadow trying to flee. The ground beneath him began to shatter, light bleeding through the cracks.

  A heartbeat later, everything warped.

  The air folded in on itself, colors running like wet paint. The sound of tearing reality filled his ears, and then he was falling, falling through screaming corridors of light and darkness and something in between.

  And then, he hit the ground.

  Hard.

  He gasped, rolled, and slammed into cold concrete. Dust billowed. Pebbles rained from above.

  He was outside.

  The Gate behind him convulsed. No longer a wound in the sky, it now looked like a dying flame wrapped in a shell of obsidian lightning. It shrieked, twisting, warping inward. Light bled from its edges. Then, with a sound like a dozen cathedrals collapsing at once—BOOM—the portal shattered.

  Thunder ripped through the air. A blast of wind knocked him flat.

  When the light cleared, there was only silence.

  The Gate was gone.

  All that remained was a scorched crater, a smoldering ring of cracked stone. The sky slowly turned back to its original bleak grey. The world had devoured the wound and spat out its bones.

  It would be like this with every dungeon. Every Gate.

  Kill the boss.

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  Collapse the realm.

  Survive the scream.

  Malachai coughed, every part of him aching. He staggered to his feet and looked down at the Hungering Veil.

  It pulsed in his arms, like something alive and waiting.

  He draped it over his shoulders.

  The shadow gripped him like a lover.

  The cold that followed was immediate. Not physical—but psychic, emotional. As if the veil drank warmth and memory alike. He felt his breath hitch, his thoughts slow, the back of his neck prickle with unseen fingers.

  > Hungering Veil Equipped

  Passive: +1 Agility, +2 Willpower

  Effect: Enemies have difficulty focusing on you. Increases resistance to illusions and madness. Ability Unlocked: Veilwalk (Short-range teleport through shadows) Curse Active: The Veil hungers. Feed it fear or blood within 72 hours.

  He nodded. It felt like it belonged there. Like it had always been his.

  Then he looked at the Essence Core.

  The crystal was still in his hand, warm and pulsing, like a heart that refused to stop.

  He held it up.

  It shimmered. Whispered. Reflected not his face, but something else. A silhouette of a man with burning eyes. A Reaper cloaked in night.

  > Do you wish to fuse Essence Core with Class: Reaper?

  > Warning: Irreversible. Outcome unknown.

  Malachai breathed once.

  "Do it."

  The Core pulsed. Bright. Blinding.

  Then it sank into his chest like a blade.

  He screamed.

  Fire raced through every nerve. Every bone cracked in protest. Blood ran from his eyes. The Veil shrieked with him. Muscles seized, heart stuttered. He collapsed onto his side, convulsing, nails tearing through dirt.

  His soul caught fire.

  And still the fusion continued.

  Images flooded his mind: gates torn open across deserts and cities, creatures that wore human skin, stars watching through wounds in the sky.

  Then silence.

  Black.

  And a whisper:

  > Class Updated.

  > Reaper — Evolution Initiated.

  Malachai lay motionless on the cold earth, chest rising slow.

  Alive.

  Changed.

  The next time he opened his eyes, the world would never look the same again.