Reincarnated as an Apocalyptic Catalyst

The city never truly slept. Even now, just before midnight, the streets thrummed with activity. Lanterns had long since been lit, providing a surprising level of lumination on the main streets, while the side streets and poverty-stricken neighborhoods were pitch black, allowing a number of unsavory plans to be enacted. Drunken laughter spilled from taverns and brothels from one end of the city, as citizens spent their silver and copper by the fist fulls; the sounds of disagreement, and the last dying screams of unfortunate victims painted a much different picture on this end of the city.

I perched on the edge of a slanted rooftop, my cloak wrapped tight around me to ward off the late autumn chill. Winter would be here before too long, and I would need to consider new attire that wouldn't clash so much with the inevitable snow.

Below, the capital moved on as if its slums weren't rotting from the inside out. I'd seen a lot over my short time here and liked very little, opting to spend most of my time dragging the worst of the infected filth into the light, one corpse at a time. Sometimes you have to remove a foot to save the leg, and I was the surgeon to do it.

I contemplated what had happened last night, what Morgana had put Mara through, what she had put me through. Then there was that 'gift', something latent in my body itching for me to call it into existence. I didn't want to think about it, and yet there was no way to ignore it. I contemplated exactly what it was she gave me, and the gears began to turn in my head. Maybe there was a way I could do Morgana's bidding while still doing good for the people, at least in the short run.

I shifted my weight, keeping low as my eyes scanned the streets for tonight's target. A carriage rolled by, misty breath bellowing from the nostrils of the horses that pulled it. A pair of city guards loitered near a street corner, pretending to give a shit, but letting anyone with a few extra coins slip by despite their duty to the city. I tried not to focus on the heavy coin purses dangling from their belts as they beckoned over another shady individual. Nothing unusual. Nothing worth my time. I could tackle that issue when the more lethal issues were resolved.

Every night, I trained. Every night, I fought. I pushed my abilities to their limits,–past their limits–honing them until I could handle them as easily as I handled the blades in my hands. Sure, I wasn't there yet, but last night was proof that I was making significant progress. To even push back Morgana the slightest bit was an achievement in its own, showing my rapid growth... Or her rapid decline. She had mentioned that her power was waning, or something like that, likely linked to the imbalance she keeps bringing up. And yet, despite all the progress, despite all the bodies left in darkened alleys, there was no satisfaction. No sense of justice, not until things changed.

My heart was heavy, the same weight that pressed on me every time I stopped to think about what I was doing. I could kill all the murderers, thieves, rapists, and slavers in this city, but it still wouldn't change the fact that I was fated to destroy everything. That every good deed I did now was nothing more than a weak attempt to balance the scales before the apocalypse I was destined to bring about the world.

I pulled back the sleeve of my glove and glanced at my wrist. It looked the same as ever—scarred, bruised, calloused, human. But I could feel it now. A presence lurking beneath my skin, my muscles, somewhere deep inside of my very core, coiled tight like a waiting predator.

I sighed through my nose and murmured, "System."

A familiar chime echoed in my head, clear and cold.

[Query received. What do you require?]

I hesitated. Then, before I could talk myself out of it, I muttered, "Tell me about the new ability. The parasite."

There was a brief silence before the system answered.

[Parasitic Replication: A segment of your true form will separate, forming an autonomous fragment that will develop within the body until it reaches maturity. Once fully formed, it will seek out a vulnerable host. Upon contact, it will burrow inside, assimilating the host's body and mind over time.]

I felt my stomach turn. "And how long does that take?"

[The replication process can be completed at most, once per day. However, prolonged attachment to a single host will result in degradation. You must transfer to a new vessel periodically to avoid structural collapse.]

I exhaled slowly. So that was the catch. The parasite could grow and evolve, even think for itself—but my host was nothing more than a temporary shell, used to feed my... 'children' until it could no longer function and I would need to find a new home. It was a strange thought, I had grown attached to this kid–young man?--. I'd spent minutes in a crow, maybe a day in the boar, a couple of days in the lynx, and now some 5 weeks in this human. I had to know how long I could keep this body because if I left before Mara returned, I would never forgive myself.

"System? How many replications can be activated before I absolutely must find a new host?"

[Query received. Your body, if maintained properly, will be able to sustain the lives of ten fragmented replications until maturity. This number may vary, but it is unlikely that you will be strong enough to find an ideal host if you surpass this estimation.]

It made me sick to my stomach. Ten days at the least, twenty if I stretched it, possibly a month or more if I risked Morgana's wrath. I didn't want to do this. I didn't want to be this. Even if I would have to leave her, I wouldn't lose her, not at any cost. I wasn't going to watch Mara die.

My jaw tightened. There was no choice... "Activate it," I muttered.

The moment the words left my lips, pain lanced through my body. And then everything went dark

I came to with a sharp inhale, my body jerking upright as if I'd been drowning and just surfaced. My skin was coated in a cold sweat, made colder as the temperature had dropped significantly since I passed out. My breathing was ragged as I reacclimated to my surroundings.

Still night, though the faint glow of light began to lessen the suffocating night. The rooftops. In the city below, everything else remained unchanged. I had changed though... I could feel it.

I pressed a hand to my forehead, willing my senses to catch up. My body felt the same—no extra limbs, no sudden, grotesque mutations. I could tell there was something more to me now, a lifeform, nearby but distancing itself, heading toward my extremities–or already there?–

Slowly, I pulled back my sleeve. My skin looked... off. Dark veins pulsed beneath the surface, not too different from the shadows, and yet I couldn't control the darkness in the same way, so I stood there and watched something shift within them; a slithering movement, coiling, adjusting to its new home.

The sensation hit me all at once, not a physical sensation, but a presence. An awareness that was me, but wasn't mine, lingering just at the edges of my mind. It wasn't speaking, though I could hear the surface thoughts. It wanted to fulfill its purpose, and I had the perfect role for it.

I let out a slow breath. No time to dwell on it now. Changing my focus, my eyes flicked to the streets below. The city still churned with its usual filth, even this early, and my target wouldn't wait forever. I needed to move.

Pushing aside the nausea twisting in my stomach, I secured my gear and set off.

The hunt didn't take long. My target for the night was a slaver, one of the more sadistic ones that had been left to their own devices for too long and now felt it was a good time to expand his operations. He was the kind that made sure his merchandise was broken before dolling it up and selling it. He was wealthy, well-guarded, and worse, well-connected. Killing him outright would make too many waves. Good thing I wasn't here to kill him.

I watched from above as he exited a gambling den, two guards flanking him, their hands resting on their weapons. He was laughing, drunk on coin and liquor, completely oblivious to the fact that he was already dead in every way that mattered.

I stalked him for several blocks, waiting for the right moment. The city's winding streets were full of places where people disappeared and were never found and tonight, he'd be one of them. After a solid hour of watching the drunken fool somehow enter a dozen establishments and leave even more wealthy, I finally found the perfect spot—a narrow alley, abandoned, its only audience the rats, but time was limited and the sun would be up soon, sending him scurrying to the shadows like a roach.

It was now or never.

[Shadow Dance Activated]

Darkness swallowed me as I closed the distance, reappearing just behind the first guard. My dagger found his throat before he could make a sound, my hand clamping over his mouth as I lowered him to the ground.

The second turned just in time for my boot to connect with his jaw, sending him sprawling. Before he could recover, I drove my knee into his chest and silenced him with a second, precise strike to the neck, spilling his blood on the cobblestone.

The slaver had already run off at the first sign of danger, but only a few precious seconds had passed since the first guard dropped. I could run after the man, but I had a few moments left in my reactivation and figured why not make the most of my ability.

[Shadow Dance Activated]

I warped beside him, grabbing the man by the back of the neck and redirecting his inertia into the stone wall to my right. I held him pinned against the wall, my blade pressing into the soft flesh beneath his chin.

"W-wait, wait!" he sputtered, his beady eyes darting between me and his fallen guards. "I can pay you! Whatever they're giving you, I can double it!"

I smiled, slow and cold. "You think this is about money?"

His face paled.

I let the silence stretch, watching his panic grow. Then, I pulled back my sleeve, exposing my wrist.

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The movement beneath my skin became frantic. The parasite was awake.

The slaver's gaze locked onto it, confusion flashing across his face before twisting into horror.

"Wh-what the hell is that?" he stammered, struggling against my grip.

I leaned in, voice a whisper against his ear.

"Your better half," I responded, a mix of pleasure and disgust as he squirmed under my grip.

I let it take him and watched as the slaver collapsed, his body convulsing as the parasite burrowed into him. His mouth opened in a silent scream, his fingers clawing at his chest as if he could rip it out. He couldn't, not without tearing his own skull open.

I stood over him, watching, waiting. I couldn't help but wonder if this was what it was like when I took my hosts, but of course, it wasn't. I never revealed myself, I didn't have someone to hold my prey down as I effortlessly squirmed my way to the brain. I had to do it the hard way, each and every time. I supposed it didn't matter, these parasites weren't required to struggle, they just had to do their task and follow orders. I liked the sound of that, except that if they were anything like me, that would be a lot easier said than done.

It didn't take long for the creature to find its mark. The man's trembling stopped first, his breath settling into slow, steady inhales. Then his posture shifted—the once panicked flailing turned to deliberate, movements as it tested out their limbs. Finally, he looked up at me, not with his own eyes, not anymore.

For a long moment, we simply stared at one another. A strange sensation washed over me, like looking into a mirror–not quite, I was far more handsome than other me–. There was something deeply familiar in the way he carried himself now, the subtle way his lips curled, the growing intelligence lurking behind his eyes. Then he smirked, that son of a bitch stole my smirk.

The parasite tilted its head, testing its new vessel. "So this is what it's like," its voice sounded amused, and yet its voice carried an eerie undertone. "To be."

It was different, I could already tell that it was missing some of what made me, me. It wasn't immediately recognizable, but I had a cold feeling from the thing. "You know who I am, right?"

A short laugh. "I am you. At least, in part." It flexed its fingers, rolling its shoulders like a man stretching after a long rest. "You should be proud. You made this all possible.", but I wasn't. If anything I felt dirty.

The parasite turned toward the alley's exit, peering out into the city beyond. "Now then," it murmured. "Shall we begin?"

"You should tend to your body first. It will require some rest and a good meal. I'm not sure how much you know about me and my past, but trust me, you will want the rest of the night to adjust, if not longer." I said flatly.

"That sounds reasonable. I should learn what I can for tomorrow when you create my brother," the thing seemed quite pleased at the thought, but I pushed it away.

"Also, that pouch is full of–" I was interrupted before I could finish.

"Coins, I know, to pay for human goods and services. I saw it in the memories of this man. You know, his enterprise is perfect for Morgana's plans. You made a great choice, and I look forward to working for you." The twisted version of me complimented.

I honestly hadn't thought of that, and now knew just how badly I had fucked this up. I handed a replicating parasite infinite access to potential hosts, and I did it willingly. This was going to take a lot of whiskey to recover from, and what better time to start than now?

"Right... Do your thing, I'll reach out to you tomorrow or the next day. I can't be doing this too often," before it could interrupt again, I continued, "I can get another host, but it takes time to acclimate, and I can't be killing off my hosts left and right. Trust me, I've been around for a while by our standards," and with that I waved it off, ignoring whatever it said afterwards.

As stepped into the night, disappearing into the labyrinthine city, I realized that though this may have been a gift–or rather a tool–given by Morgana... But what I had created... was a monster. And it wore my face.