The stench of blood and offal in the room was a physical assault. For a moment, Alonso Gijon remained unnervingly still, his vacant eyes fixed on Ganjo. Then, the calm shattered. His face began to contort violently, muscles spasming and twisting beneath the drying blood smears. His head shook from side to side with an unnatural, jerky speed. A low, guttural sound built in his throat, like an animal in distress.

  A voice emerged, but it was not Alonso's familiar, reedy tone. This voice was deeper, echoing with a wet, rasping quality. A demonic sound that seemed to vibrate in the very air of the charnel house manifested. It was unsettlingly familiar, a chilling precursor to the creature Olt would later encounter in the depths of the Aether.

  "Silence! Disregard the prattling!" the voice rasped, the words seeming to fight their way out of Alonso's throat.

  It appeared to be speaking to itself, or perhaps to an unseen presence, before its focus snapped back to Ganjo.

  "Pay no mind to that nonsense, Joseph. It's inconvenient."

  The violent shaking stopped as abruptly as it had begun. Alonso's face smoothed out, the contortions ceasing, settling into a wide, unsettling grin that stretched his lips too far. They revealed too much gum. His eyes, now glowing with a faint, unnatural crimson light, fixed on Ganjo with a predatory, almost playful amusement.

  Without breaking eye contact with Ganjo, Alonso moved with a disturbing, almost balletic fluidity. He stepped gracefully over a mangled torso, his blood-soaked boots making soft, squelching sounds on the gore-slicked floor. He reached down, his blood-stained hand picking up a small, severed arm. It was unmistakably a child's.

  Alonso brought the arm to his mouth. The wide, unwavering grin was still plastered across his face. With a sickening, wet crunch, he bit off a chunk of flesh. He began to chew slowly, methodically, his eyes closing momentarily in what appeared to be an expression of perverse, ecstatic pleasure. The sounds of his chewing, the tearing of flesh, were amplified in the horrific silence of the room. As he chewed, he began to sway slightly with a slow, almost sensual dance emerging amidst the terror. His movements were a grotesque counterpoint to the carnage surrounding him.

  Ganjo stared, frozen for a horrifying second by the sheer, unadulterated depravity of the act. The sight of Alonso, casually consuming human flesh, shattered any remaining semblance of reason. Depravity gave way to a pure, unadulterated rage, that was a primal fury that burned through him. This wasn't just a monster. It was a desecration, an abomination.

  "Stop it! Alonso, stop!" Ganjo roared, his voice tearing from his throat. He didn't hesitate. He charged across the blood-slicked floor towards Alonso. Ganjo’s fists were clenched, every fiber of his being focused on delivering a brutal, immediate beatdown.

  Alonso, still chewing, barely seemed to register Ganjo's furious charge. With a speed that defied his blood-soaked state and the gruesome meal he was consuming, he simply sidestepped. It wasn't a jump or a run, but a fluid, almost unnatural shift, leaving Ganjo swinging at empty air. His momentum carried him past.

  In the same impossibly swift motion, Alonso was suddenly behind two of Ganjo's operatives, who had just burst into the room, drawn by Ganjo's roar and the sounds of the earlier commotion. They were caught completely off guard, their blades still half-drawn.

  Before either could react, Alonso's hands moved like blurs. One of the guards, a burly, experienced fighter, felt a sharp, twisting pain in his neck as Alonso's hand clamped down with inhuman strength and snapped his head to the side with a wet crack. The man’s eyes bulged, and he crumpled to the floor, lifeless. The other operative let out a choked gurgle as Alonso's fingers, now like talons, dug into her throat, tearing through flesh and windpipe with brutal efficiency. She collapsed beside her comrade, as a red torrent bloomed on her chest, dead before she hit the ground.

  Maya, seeing her teammates fall so quickly, so brutally, let out a cry of alarm and disbelief. She drew her blade. It was a short, practical combat knife. Stepping forward, her training kicked in despite the terror that threatened to paralyze her.

  "Maya, run! Get out of here!" Ganjo shouted. The full, terrifying realization of what this transformed Alonso was capable of crashed down on him.

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  Alonso's glowing crimson eyes flicked towards Maya. The grotesque grin widened with a promise of further violence. He dropped the gnawed, severed arm to the floor with a wet thud and lunged towards her with terrifying, inhuman speed.

  Ganjo, despite being caught off guard by Alonso's initial evasion, reacted instantly. Adrenaline surged through him. He threw himself between the charging Alonso and Maya, intercepting Alonso's attack with a desperate, shoulder-first block. The impact was like being hit by a runaway truck, sending a jarring shock through his entire body. Luckily, it diverted Alonso's charge, giving Maya a precious second.

  "Go, Maya! Go!" Ganjo yelled, bracing himself for the inevitable counterattack.

  The fight erupted in a maelstrom of violence. Ganjo, his Aether flaring a bright, pulsating blue, fought with the raw power and desperate technique of a cornered animal. Rage fueled his strikes, each blow carrying the weight of his horror and fury. But Alonso was a different kind of opponent. He was unnaturally fast, agile, and disturbingly strong. His movements were almost fluid, yet disjointed, like a puppet whose strings were being pulled too fast, too erratically.

  Alonso laughed with a high-pitched, grating sound that scraped at Ganjo’s nerves, as he fought. He dodged Ganjo's Aether-enhanced punches with an unnerving ease, weaving through his attacks as if they were in slow motion.

  Ganjo, roaring in frustration, managed to land a solid clothesline. He poured Aether into the strike, the impact sending Alonso staggering back, crashing against a blood-smeared wall with a powerful smash. But Alonso bounced back almost immediately, the red glow in his eyes intensifying, and the grotesque grin wider than ever. Before Ganjo could press the advantage, Alonso moved with blinding speed, grabbing Ganjo in a flash. He executed a brutal suplex, slamming Ganjo onto the hard concrete floor with a force that knocked the wind out of him in a painful gasp.

  Scrambling back to his feet, his vision swimming, Ganjo landed a desperate superkick that connected squarely with Alonso's head, snapping it back at an unnatural angle. But Alonso just laughed, the sound echoing eerily in the charnel house. He retaliated instantly, unleashing a flurry of what Ganjo could only describe as "insane slap arounds". They were unnaturally fast, open-handed strikes to Ganjo's head and body, delivered with disturbing force while he laughed maniacally. Alonso’s limbs seemed as if they were about to pop off from the speed with which he used them. Each slap felt like a constant clash against a wall, leaving Ganjo reeling, and disoriented.

  The fight was going badly for Ganjo. Alonso's unnatural speed, his disturbing resilience, and his sheer, gleeful brutality were overwhelming him. Ganjo was forced back, step by agonizing step, until he was cornered against a blood-smeared wall. The cold, damp concrete pressed against his back. He was bruised, bleeding from several cuts, his Aether flickering erratically from the strain and the damage he’d sustained.

  Alonso advanced, the chilling grin fixed on his face, glinting with malevolent anticipation. He was ready to finish it.

  Desperate, Ganjo knew this was his last chance. He poured every ounce of remaining Aether into his body. The neon blue light flared around him, brighter than it had been before. It was a corona of defiant energy. He let out a roar, a sound of defiance, pain, and sheer, unadulterated fury.

  He launched himself forward, channeling all that concentrated power into one final, massive super clothesline. It was a devastating, full-force strike, aimed directly at Alonso's neck. This was a desperate gamble to sever the puppet strings and end this nightmare.

  Ganjo’s Aether-charged super clothesline connected with immense, bone-shattering force. The impact was destructive. A tearing sound shattered the horrific chamber. Alonso's head snapped back at an impossible, grotesque angle, his body going momentarily limp, as it collapsed like a discarded doll. For a terrifying instant, it looked as if his neck was broken, and as if the demonic presence had finally been extinguished.

  But then, with a series of sickening pops and cracks, Alonso's head began to realign itself. The unnatural angle vanished, his neck straightening with a grotesque, puppet-like motion. His body stiffened, and the wide, demonic grin returned, stretching his lips impossibly. He let out a chilling, echoing laugh. It was the same grating, inhuman sound from before.

  "Fool!" the demonic voice rasped, vibrating in the blood-soaked air.

  As the laugh faded, however, the red glow in Alonso's eyes flickered and died. The wide, manic grin smoothed out, replaced by a look of profound confusion. Then, there was a dawning panic. Alonso seemed to "come to," his eyes darting around the room as if seeing the bloodied massacre for the very first time.

  He looked down at his blood-soaked clothes, his eyes widening in shock. He touched his face, his fingers coming away smeared with gore. Then, his hand moved to his neck, where Ganjo’s final blow had landed. As Alonso touched the skin near his ear, he flinched, a sharp intake of breath. A patch of skin there was discolored, showing a distinct, unsettling pattern of faint blue, mold-like markings. It was eerily similar to the one Olt would later describe on the red-haired woman.

  Terror and utter confusion contorted Alonso's features. He didn't linger. He glanced wildly at Ganjo, who was still trying to recover from the shock of Alonso's unnatural recovery, then his gaze darted towards the open doorway. With a choked sob, Alonso turned and fled the room, stumbling clumsily over the bodies in his haste. He disappeared back into the dark, silent corridors of the facility.