Sweet blood

"Burn card,"

Ethan sat still, his fingers curled tight against his palms. 

The second he spoke the trigger word, a cold sensation spread from his chest, slow and creeping. It wasn't painful, just unnerving. 

Like something had reached into his body and was pulling at something deep inside him.

Then, it turned hot.

Not like fire. Not like warmth. It was thick, heavy, searing through his veins like molten metal. His breath hitched. His heart pounded against his ribs, an uncomfortable, rapid rhythm.

The world around him flickered.

The colors in his apartment twisted, darkening.

And then—

Red.

Everything was red.

His hands, his clothes, the floor, the walls, the ceiling—everything was drenched in red. It dripped, swirled, moved. He inhaled sharply, expecting the smell of iron, the sharp scent of blood. But—

It was sweet.

Like sugar. Like honey melting on his tongue.

His stomach churned.

He blinked. But the red didn't fade. It wasn't just red anymore—it felt alive, shifting like liquid caught in motion. The walls of his apartment rippled, almost breathing. His hands trembled.

Then—

[Error. Error. Assimilation error.]

His stomach dropped.

"What?" His voice came out hoarse, barely a whisper.

[Assimilation error detected. Attempting to recalibrate.]

The red grew darker. He felt something pull at his mind, something foreign, something wrong.

Then—

[Error. Error. Assimilation error.]

The world tilted.

His head spun, his stomach twisted. His body felt weightless for a moment before a crushing force pulled him down. He gasped, hands gripping the chair, but it didn't help.

His vision darkened.

It wasn't sleep. It wasn't unconsciousness.

It was nothingness.

A void swallowed everything.

No red. No walls. No light.

Nothing.

Panic surged through him.

He blinked. Once. Twice. But there was no difference.

His chest tightened. His breath grew unsteady.

"…What's happening?"

No answer.

His heartbeat pounded against his ribs, fast and hard. He reached up, his fingers trembling as they brushed against his face, his eyes.

They were open.

But he still couldn't see.

His breathing turned ragged. His fingers clenched into fists. The weight of nothing pressed down on him. The silence felt unnatural, like the world itself had stopped.

His body still felt real. He could move, breathe, think. That meant he wasn't dead.

But—

His sight was gone.

He swallowed, trying to calm himself. His throat felt dry.

The system had warned him that some cards were harder to assimilate than others. He had expected something difficult. But this?

A sharp headache pulsed behind his eyes. It felt like pressure, like something was pushing against his skull from the inside.

Ethan clenched his jaw. He had to stay calm.

He exhaled slowly.

Then, with effort, he opened his eyes.

Only problem was, as he opened his eyes, he can't see.

Ethan's head was pounding. His vision was swallowed by an inky void, a sea of dark uncertainty, his body sluggish, and his mind… distant.

 There was a strange weight on his chest, and his fingers felt like they weren't his own. They trembled slightly as he tried to move them, but it was as if his body had become a stranger.

 His mind was fogged, fragmented, swirling with disjointed thoughts that wouldn't connect, the silence only punctuated by the sounds of his shallow breathing.

 It was unnerving, overwhelming even. Was this the result of the assimilation? He had to focus, had to push through.

Then, as though cutting through the chaos like a knife, a voice broke through the darkness.

[Assimilation successful.]

The words came from nowhere and everywhere at once, cold and mechanical. 

Ethan's breath caught. It was done. But was it really successful? His heart raced as the dull pain in his head intensified, a sharp pressure in his temples. 

The words felt strange, too stiff. Stiffer than the system normally would be.

[Assimilation successful.] It repeated, like it was trying to reassure him, but Ethan's body told him something else. It wasn't reassuring.

His eyes were still blind to everything, the only sensation that mattered being the pulse of his heartbeat in his ears, and the tightness in his chest. 

Had he truly gone through with this? The system seemed too calm, too methodical, as though nothing had changed. But he could feel it. Something was different.

Shit…

[Mental Health: 43%]

The words flashed before him like a punch in the gut. Ethan's breath caught in his throat. 43 percent? 

His mental health had taken a dive, more than a minor decline. Was this the price of assimilation? Or was it something else?

 His brain was foggy, his thoughts scattered and out of reach.

He felt detached from his own body, unable to anchor himself in the present. And then, to make matters worse:

[Physical Health: 30%]

That made his heart skip a beat. Thirty percent? Was this some kind of joke? 

His physical health had plummeted. He could barely feel his limbs, and his body seemed alien to him. 

Was this supposed to happen? Was this normal for an assimilation? Every instinct told him it wasn't, but the system… the system had said it was successful, hadn't it?

Ethan tried to steady himself, to think clearly. But the disorientation—the dizzying fog—was too much.

 His pulse quickened as the pressure on his chest seemed to grow, the pressure mounting, as if a dozen invisible hands were pushing down on him. 

He knew he shouldn't have done this. He should've fused Seth with the other card first, built up to this, but it was too late for that. He had made his choice.

A voice that was somehow both distant and too close resounded in his mind, a little more insistent this time.

[Impromptu Mission has been issued by Viewer Member: BabaYaga101.]

The name made his stomach turn, but he could hardly process it. BabaYaga101? A viewer? Issuing a mission? 

What kind of mission? The system didn't care to elaborate, only delivered another notification that sent a chill down his spine.

[Mission: Find the door.]

The words were cryptic as hell. A door? What door? Was this part of the system?

 Was it a new quest? And who was this viewer? Why was the mission even assigned to him?

Ethan's thoughts spiraled. The confusion was overwhelming, his anxiety bubbling up, only adding to the disarray in his mind. 

He tried to ignore it, to push the panic down, but it was impossible. The pressure, the disorienting fog, the strange voice—none of it made sense.

And then, it happened.

[The Audience is online.]

The message flickered on his screen, its simplicity somehow more unsettling than anything else. 

The Audience? 

He didn't know what that meant, because the system was so fucking cryptic with the Audience skill, but he wasn't dumb. 

Ethan's mind raced. Who were these viewers? How many were there? How many eyes were on him right now? He swallowed hard.

[Viewers: 5]