With a shared, resolute glance, Doctor Luna and Doctor James initiated the procedure. The lifeless body was carefully secured inside the chamber, its glass shimmering with an ethereal hue. At the chamber's center, the Divine Stone pulsed faintly, casting golden ripples that danced like firelight across the sterile lab walls.
Doctor Thomas, encased in a heavy, mechanical iron suit, moved with an unnerving, deliberate precision. The suit—an ugly amalgam of metal plates, exposed rivets, and steaming joints—radiated a sinister aura, like something forged not for protection, but for battle against the unknown. One look was enough to understand: no weapon of this world could pierce its shell.
A collective breath held the room captive.
Thomas approached the corpse, its skin pale and waxy against the cold, glass table. He lifted the obsidian-like stone, black as midnight yet gleaming with veins of molten gold, and placed it squarely on the dead man's forehead.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then—the stone pulsed. Vibrant light, golden and fluid, spread from its core. Without sound or resistance, it began to sink into the corpse's skin, as though being absorbed by the very soul of the flesh.
The room fell still.
Time stretched unnaturally.
Then—the corpse's eyes snapped open.
A collective gasp followed. The body sat up, its movements stiff, fractured, as if it were being operated by invisible strings. A hushed murmur rippled across the lab.
"Did it work?" Doctor James whispered, his voice more hope than inquiry. "Did it truly work?"
The reanimated man gave no answer. Instead, it screamed.
Its voice was inhuman, gravelly, and vibrating with malice.
"You fools!"
The words struck like thunder.
"You dare tamper with what you do not understand?"
The doctors staggered back. The creature's eyes burned—not with life, but with rage. Ancient. Intelligent. Vengeful.
"This is what I warned you about! You think yourselves gods? You are but crawling insects meddling with truths that should never have been unearthed! You bring me these empty vessels, these soulless husks, and expect rebirth? This is a mockery of life!"
Before anyone could respond, the body convulsed violently.
The stone, now embedded deep in its skull, suddenly ejected itself—a blinding burst of light accompanying its release. The corpse was hurled backward, slamming into the reinforced glass wall. The impact sent cracks skittering across the surface, spiderweb fractures that crept like frost across a windowpane.
The room fell into horrified silence.
That glass was designed to withstand the weight of monsters. It had never cracked before.
James could only whisper, his voice shaking:
"It's… talking to itself…"
But the stone wasn't talking to itself. It was choosing.
It pulsed once more—brighter, sharper—its attention turning to Doctor Luna.
"Seal it!" James barked, panic snapping through his tone. "Contain it now!"
With mechanical groans, iron rods erupted from the floor, encircling the chamber. A massive steel door descended from above, slamming shut with a thunderous clang. The room trembled as the chamber locked down.
Silence followed.
Minutes later, Doctor Thomas emerged—his iron suit newly sterilized, his movements slower, more deliberate.
James approached, eyes sharp, questions already forming.
"Doctor Thomas. What happened when the stone glowed?"
Thomas's voice was flat, emotionless.
"Nothing significant, sir. It dimmed. Then it fell to the floor. I retrieved it and returned."
James narrowed his eyes, but said nothing.
"Very well. It's late. Doctor Luna, you're quite the celebrity these days. The roads are chaos. Thomas will escort you home."
"Yes, sir," Thomas replied, already watching Luna.
They left in silence.
That Night
Luna's home was quiet, wrapped in the hush of midnight. She didn't notice the way Thomas stood a little too still, nor how he never blinked. She didn't hear the whispered voice inside his mind:
"She is the one. The perfect host. Once I possess her, my true strength will return. I must leave this universe quickly."
What stood beside her was not Thomas.
Not anymore.
Back in the lab, deep within the sealed chamber, the real Thomas's body lay broken, abandoned, discarded like a used shell. The stone had absorbed him. And now, it wore him.
For years, they had unknowingly fed it—dead body after dead body—each one adding to its hidden strength. The scientists thought they were experimenting. In truth, they were nurturing it.
And now, the chamber was sealed for two days.
Exactly what it needed.
The Next Morning
Luna stepped outside, blinking at the light. And there he was.
Thomas, still in the same spot, still in the same condition, unchanged from the night before. Not a crease disturbed his clothing. Not a strand of hair out of place.
"Doctor Thomas?" she asked, uneasy. "You're here early…"
"I've come to escort you back to the lab," he said, voice hollow.
She nodded, disturbed but silent.
As they walked, she couldn't help but glance at him.
There was something wrong.
His eyes—they were no longer eyes. The pupils were gone, replaced with a milky white sheen, like clouds hiding a storm.
He turned and smiled, but it wasn't his smile.
Inside, the stone thought:
"Two more days. Just two more. Once I reclaim my fragments, none of you will survive."
His lips twitched upward again.
"And when that day comes, I will leave this world behind… in ruin."
In the silence of the street, behind that borrowed human face, a cold, ancient laughter echoed—inaudible to all but the one possessed.