Mag Beast Leveling

The hunger was insatiable.

Vincent prowled the ruins like a beast unchained, out of breath, his body still healing from the wound that should have been fatal.

The night throbbed around him, a living thing filled with the distant wails of the dying, the shuffling of survivors sorting through the debris.

And the tang of their fear hung in the air, thick and heady.

The scent of his prey.

His claws flexed, tips still lacquered with the residue of his latest kill.

He hadn't planned to lose control back there hadn't designed for the hunger to so fully engulf him.

But that thing, that thing had pushed his hand.

And now, it had gotten away.

"Damn it." His voice came out in a low growl, his throat raw with Vira's energy still twisting inside him.

She stirred, a whisper on the edge of his mind.

"You let it escape."

Vincent's fangs bared.

"I was slightly busy bleeding out."

A pause.

Then, something colder.

"You hesitated. You still fear what you're becoming."

His fists tightened, the jagged edge of his claws digging into his palms. Becoming.

As if he hadn't gone past that point all the way back.

As though anything was left of the man he used to be.

"Panic, why?" Vincent turned back to the trail lingering in the air the thick, pungent, red tang of blood.

It went east, further into the ruined city, through broken towers and collapsed bridges, where there still smoldered the fires of a dying civilization.

And something else stood in that direction.

Something is wrong.

He acted before he could talk himself out of it, body sliding between the debris like a shadow.

Now it was all instinct, every movement.

There was no pause, no extraneous motion.

Just the hunt.

The vocals of survivors faded as he sank into the low parts of the city where the underground had collapsed, exposing the hidden arteries of a once forgotten world.

The further down he descended, the chillier it grew, the air sultry with rot and something much older than death.

"Not alone." Vira's voice hissed through his mind.

Vincent slowed.

A faint scuffling ahead.

The wet noise of something scraping along stone.

His claws twitched.

Then he saw them.

Bodies.

Not fresh. Not intact.

Something had split them open, had come apart from them from within.

Their arms contorted at unnatural angles their faces locked in anguish. Veneers blackened into spiderwebs of surface cracks on their skin, their chests split open, vacant.

No hearts.

Something had fed.

Vincent crouched low, dragging his fingers through blood pooled under one of the corpses. Still warm.

His mouth fell open, fangs sparking with the tang of raw power curling in his lungs.

This wasn't just human blood.

It carried something else.

And then he heard it.

A wet, sucking breath.

A choked, ragged gasp.

Vincent turned his head slowly, his sharpened gaze piercing the shadows.

And something looked back.

A silhouette in the darkness, just out of firelight range.

Its frame was gaunt, its skin sickly and pulled tight over its bones.

Ribs of black throbbed under its skin, and pumping red giblets smeared the lip of its mouth.

Its eyes hollow pits of infinite black were fixed on him.

The thing grinned.

"You smell like her."

The voice oozed like applied oil, viscous and effervescent.

Vincent didn't move.

His claws flexed, the hunger twisting within him.

"Vira's little pet."

The creature stepped closer, taloned fingers trembling.

"A mistake given form."

Vincent bared his teeth at the boy.

"You talk too much."

Then he moved.

The effect was immediate two bodies smashing together with primal intent.

It banked fast, too fast, its claws swiping for his throat.

Vincent spun, narrowly ducking the blow, then drove his fist into its ribs.

Bone splintered, yet the thing hardly wavered before it lunged again.

Vincent ducked, swept his leg low, and flipped the creature into the stone.

And then it laughed.

A gurgling, wet laugh.

"Not bad." It lifted its head, black ichor spilling from its cleft lips.

"But not enough."

Vincent awoke, but not quickly enough.

The thing's claws tore through his side, shredding him like wet parchment. Vincent snarled, writhing free, but the damage was done.

Blood cascaded down his torso, his body howling with objection.

"Vincent!" Vira's voice sliced through the fog of his mind, panic woven into its frayed edges.

He gritted his teeth.

The hunger burned, demanding to be fed, to be freed.

"More," the thing purred, its grin widening, unnatural.

"Give me more."

Vincent obliged.

With a snarl, he let go.

Vira's force hit him, the fusion instantaneous.

His body coiled, his vision honed.

The world was color and sound and heat. And prey.

He acted more quickly than it could respond.

His claws raked through its belly, spilling its guts on the stone.

The thing shrieked, but Vincent was already upon it, rending, rending, rending.

He didn't stop. He couldn't stop.

The blood was fire, was life, was all.

Until a whisper pierced the tumult.

"Vincent. Stop."

His breath heaved.

His vision swam.

The vileness below him was no longer recognizable.

Just meat.

A rush coursed through him power, hunger, victory.

And then a sound.

A whimper.

Vincent lifted his head, blood on his lips.

And there huddled in a corner.

A girl.

Young.

Terrified.

Eyes wide, locked on him.

The hunger twisted as Vincent stilled.

"Vincent," now her voice was soft, dangerous, "Decide."

The girl gasped, her body trembling.

She had seen everything.

She knew.

Vincent let out a low breath, claws digging into the bloodied earth.

The hunger screamed.

The girl waited.

And in that silence, something changed.

Then a sound.

Not from her.

Not from him.

A slow clap.

Vincent's head turned to the darkness behind the tunnel.

A figure stood at the edge of the firelight, looking.

Tall. Cloaked. Familiar.

The thing from before.

Still grinning.

"Told you."

Its voice dripped amusement.

"You're not the only person who eats."

Then, it was engulfed by darkness."

And Vincent knew.

The hunt had only just begun.

Vincent lunged, his body flying through the air.

He could feel the hunger roaring within, fusing, expanding, consuming.

His claws cut through the air, hitting faster even than thought rending flesh, crushing bone.

The thing hardly had a chance to react before he smashed his fist into its chest, the impact like a thunderclap.

The creature shrieked, its voice broken and inhuman, but Vincent wouldn't stop.

He turned, wrenching his arm out in a spray of black ichor.

The thing staggered, but he was already on it, driving it into the rubble, stone, and dust erupting about them.

It struck out jagged claws glimmering but he caught its wrist, found it with a nauseating crunch.

"Too slow."

Snarling, he barreled his knee into its gut, and the blow sent the creature sliding through the wreckage.

It hardly paused before Vincent was there again, claws flashing, fangs grinning.

The thing wheezed, its body fighting to come back together.

Vincent smirked.

"No, not enough," he whispered derisive, cruel.

And then he plunged his own claws into its skull with all of the force that he could muster.

The night shuddered with its last scream.