The Spiral’s Call

"W-what the hell?"

Adam's breath hitched, his eyes widening in horror.

The words.

The raving words.

They were almost the same as the ones he had heard before. The same maddening whispers that had plagued his mind since his arrival in this world.

Or rather—since he had stopped hearing them.

Adam's brows knitted together.

"Why did the voices stop?"

For the first time, he truly questioned it.

"Was something calling me? A powerful being? But if that's true… why did they suddenly disappear?"

His eyes trailed upward, studying the "angelic" figure's face.

A sudden sound broke the silence.

Fssss!

It was a long, drawn-out breath, as if air had been exhaled after an eternity of stillness.

Then, the gray "angel" let out a scream.

A deafening, soul-ripping wail.

Adam barely had time to react before agony exploded in his skull.

He clutched his head, his ears bleeding, but it was useless. The sound wasn't just noise—it was a force.

A maddening, unseen weight pressing against his very soul.

And then, the voices returned.

Not in whispers.

In a terrifying chorus.

"Be afraid!"

"Surrender yourself to abyssal desire!"

"Become an apostle of the Spiral!"

Adam felt something wriggling inside him.

Not figuratively.

Physically.

Like worms drilling out of his back.

Pain flared across his chest—a spiral-shaped wound, as if something was carving itself into him. His limbs stretched unnaturally, his body bloated, his clothes tore at the seams.

Then came the worst part.

He felt like he was mutating.

Changing.

A blood-curdling scream tore itself from his throat.

It wasn't fair.

He never wanted this.

He never wanted to be chased into this damned cavern.

He never wanted to be in this world at all.

And yet—

Crack!

The rusted chains shattered.

The "angel"—or whatever it was—fell from the cross with a grotesque, unnatural grace.

Its blurred, horribly wrong face twitched toward Adam.

Then—

It lunged.

On all fours.

Blackened wings flapping wildly.

It was fast.

Too fast.

A Desperate Gamble

Just as its claws reached him—

Fwoosh!

A sudden gust of cold wind swept through the cavern.

The moment it touched him, Adam's mind snapped back.

The voices—

They were cleansing.

As if something divine was rejecting the corruption.

Then, something clicked.

His knife.

The crude stone blade at his waist was glowing white.

At the same time—his intuition screamed at him.

His pocket.

That thing.

The crystal.

The catalyst.

Adam hesitated for only a fraction of a second.

"It might make things worse."

But he had no choice.

Pain racked his body as the drill-like worms burst fully from his back—

And coalesced into wings.

White.

Huge.

Unnatural.

"No time!"

Ignoring the agony, Adam shoved his hand into his pocket, pulled out the catalyst—

And bit down.

The moment his teeth crunched into the crystal, a wave of burning energy surged through him.

But so did pain.

Before he could even register what was happening, the "angel" was already upon him.

Its foot lashed out—

BOOM!

Adam's body slammed into the cavern wall, the impact sending violent tremors through the entire space.

Blood trickled down his forehead.

Then—

The catalyst activated.

A red, luminescent glow enveloped his body.

The light pulsed, wrapping around his frame—

And then, it absorbed into him.

The pain faded.

His body shrank back to normal.

The unnatural mutations vanished.

Except—

The spiral wound on his chest remained.

And so did the wings.

The Killing Blow

The "angel" wasn't done.

It rushed again—

Adam moved first.

Instinctively, he pulled out the glowing knife—

And thrust it forward.

The blade pierced straight through.

The creature froze.

For the first time, it let out something resembling a gasp.

Then—

The knife disintegrated.

The "angel" staggered backward.

It collapsed.

And then—

Its body melted.

The once-divine figure degenerated into a pile of flesh, blood, and feathers.

Silence.

Huff… huff…

Adam's ragged breathing filled the cavern.

He stared at the mess before him.

He was alive.

Finally, he let out a breath.

"Fuck. My knife."

Gone.

Forever.

He rubbed his temple, sighing heavily. Just as he was about to leave—

Something caught his eye.

The flesh.

It was moving.

Twitching.

Gathering.

Condensing.

Not regenerating.

Changing.

And then—

The coalescing mass of gray light began shedding its form.

What was left…

Adam's breath caught.

"A… sword?"