The doors groaned open with a sound that wasn’t metal or wood, but more like ribs breaking under weight.

  They did not swing—they peeled back, flesh unspooling from the bone-shaped handles, shrieking as if they didn’t want to be touched. Malachai stepped through and was swallowed by the dark.

  The boss room was a cathedral of suffering.

  Towering columns of muscle spiraled into a ceiling lost in shadow. The floor was black stone slick with blood that never dried, engraved with hundreds of writhing symbols—prayers, curses, names. Chained bodies dangled from the walls, their mouths sewn shut, twitching as if still alive, eyes rolling in empty sockets. A choir of whispers echoed from above, wordless and mournful.

  The air was thick, rotting sweet like overripe fruit split open with maggots. Malachai’s breath felt too heavy in his chest, his heartbeat pounding in his ears like drums of war.

  And at the center of it all, sitting atop a throne made from fused spines and shattered halos—was her.

  The boss.

  The Bride of Hunger.

  She was tall, emaciated, her limbs impossibly long and boned with metal. Her dress was sewn from human skin, blood still weeping from the seams. A veil of blackened lace obscured most of

  her face, but beneath it, a jagged mouth split her head from temple to chin, stitched with golden wire.

  Dozens of arms curled out from her back like a spider queen, twitching, trembling, each one clutching a different object: a doll, a crucifix, a severed hand, a fetus in a jar.

  The moment Malachai stepped into the room, she stood.

  The whispering stopped.

  The room breathed.

  And then the Bride of Hunger screamed.

  Her mouth tore open. The wires snapped. Sound and blood exploded outward like a shockwave, slamming Malachai back against the wall. His head cracked stone. Blood spilled from his ears.

  ? HP: 64/120

  She lunged.

  He barely rolled aside as a clawed hand shattered the floor where he’d just been. Another arm whipped out from her back, flinging a hooked chain that grazed his ribs. He slashed with the Slaughter Claws, slicing through one limb—only for three more to take its place.

  She moved with impossible speed.

  Her arms were like serpents, each acting with purpose, biting at his defense, tearing at flesh, trying to pull him apart.

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  He triggered Dread Pulse.

  A wave of psychic force radiated from him. She laughed.

  A horrible, wet, gurgling laugh.

  She didn’t fear him. Not yet.

  He used Feast of Flesh, siphoning power from the shadows, healing minor wounds as he danced through blood.

  He cut. And cut. And kept cutting.

  The fight became a blur of screams and gore.

  At one point, she bit him—face splitting to the sternum, fangs dragging down his arm. He screamed, shoved a claw into her mouth, and ripped free a chunk of her jaw.

  She roared.

  He activated Frenzy Pulse.

  Time dilated. His movements sped. Her limbs slowed.

  He drove both Slaughter Claws into her chest, twisted, and tore.

  Black ichor gushed like tar. Her arms spasmed, cracking stone, ripping a pillar in half.

  She grabbed his throat.

  Lifted him.

  Spoke her only words:

  “You taste like death.”

  He rammed a claw through her eye.

  Then through the other.

  Then he drove both into her skull and pulled.

  Her scream didn’t echo. It collapsed.

  The Bride of Hunger fell.

  The dungeon shivered.

  ? BOSS DEFEATED

  ? Level Up: 6 > 8

  ? Class Evolution Progress: 42%

  ? You have acquired: Hungering Veil

  ? You have acquired: Essence Core – Unique

  Malachai staggered back, panting.

  The Hungering Veil lay in her remains. A thin black shroud, torn but pulsing with a heartbeat. He reached out.

  ? Hungering Veil – Relic (Cursed)

  Effect: Grants the ability Veilwalk – short-range teleport through shadows. Passive: +1 Agility, +2 Willpower. Increased resistance to mental effects. Enemies struggle to track you. Cursed: Veil feeds on nearby fear. Must kill or feed it within three days, or penalties apply.

  The Essence Core shimmered. A crystal of roiling energy, pulsing with memory and power.

  ? Essence Core – Unique

  This can be fused to your class.

  Warning: Irreversible. Outcome unknown.

  Malachai stared into the core.

  And smiled.

  He had won.