The Rise of Qī Shā

For a moment, there was nothing.

Just the sound of their breathing, the faint drip of water from the sprinkler pipes, and the distant hum of electricity still crackling from Joon's gloves.

Jin didn't move.

None of them did.

They just stared at the pile of charred corpses, waiting for it to do what they already knew it would.

Then it twitched.

A subtle, jerking motion — like a muscle spasm.

Then another.

Seul's voice barely rose above a whisper.

"It's starting again."

The pile convulsed, bodies snapping upright, bones clicking together as the entire mass caved inward like an unseen force was pulling it.

Joon wiped his face.

"I hate the system," he muttered.

The corpse pile rippled, flesh melting like wax, sliding over itself in slow, sickening waves.

Bodies cracked open, limbs splitting apart, only to bend backward and weave into each other.

It wasn't chaotic.

It was intentional.