The stifling air in their barricaded apartment grew heavier with each passing hour, a palpable testament to the decay seeping into the world outside. Two days had passed since the realm's terrifying descent, two days of whispered fears and gnawing hunger. Their meager store of canned goods and lukewarm tap water, salvaged just before the municipal system failed, was almost gone. The silence, punctuated only by distant, monstrous roars and the frantic scuttling of unseen creatures in the building's walls, was a constant torment.
Eobard sat by the makeshift barricade, his body a coiled spring of tension, his senses painfully acute. He could hear the low grunts of large mutated creatures moving several blocks away, the frantic squeal of smaller ones being hunted, and, most unsettling of all, the faint, resonant hum of the secret realm itself, a monstrous heart beating in the sky. The Primal Hunger, an insatiable craving for the raw spiritual Qi that now permeated the very air, clawed at his gut. It wasn't the dull ache of physical hunger; it was a deeper, more profound emptiness, a demand from his newly forged Blood Barbarian Body for the energy it craved, the energy that would allow it to truly solidify its power.
He looked at his family: Priscilla, her face etched with exhaustion but still fiercely protective, trying to soothe Ethan and Derick, who huddled close, their eyes wide and haunted. Shawn, ever restless, paced the cramped space like a caged animal, his youthful energy strained to its breaking point. Eobard knew, with a certainty that chilled him to the bone, that their current existence was unsustainable. The scraps he'd scavenged on his desperate foray into the bodega wouldn't last. They needed more than just food; they needed a solution.
His mind, even in this maelstrom of primal instinct and terror, was relentlessly analytical. He'd observed the aftermath of the first realm's appearance, noted the strange, glowing crystals embedded in the bodies of the defeated mutated animals. He hadn't known what they were then, but the Primal Hunger resonated faintly with them. He'd also seen the desperation in the eyes of the other awakened individuals – the Fire-elemental man, the Earth-elemental girl. They had power, but no understanding, no direction. He was no different, but his intellect screamed for answers.
He remembered a fleeting broadcast he'd picked up on a dying phone before it went completely dark, a panicked news anchor rambling about "unidentified energy signatures" and "anomalous zones." The secret realms were dangerous, yes, but they were also the source. The source of the Qi, the source of the mutations, and, perhaps, the source of salvation.
"I have to go," Eobard said, his voice cutting through the heavy silence. His family looked at him, their eyes full of apprehension.
"Go where, son?" Priscilla asked, her voice barely a whisper.
"Into one of the realms," Eobard stated, his gaze firm. "The ones that have… settled. The ones that don't seem to be destroying everything around them anymore. There has to be a reason they appeared. Something inside." He didn't articulate the "Primal Hunger" that urged him, the unsettling pull towards those bastions of raw Qi.
Shawn's eyes widened. "Are you crazy, Eobard? People who go into those things… they don't come back!"
"Or they come back changed, with power," Eobard countered, his voice grim. "Like me. Like that fire guy. We can't just sit here and starve, Mama. The world outside… it's only getting worse. If there's something inside those realms that can help us, help all of us, I have to find it." His logical brain had presented the ultimatum: risk unimaginable danger for a chance at a real future, or slowly decay with the rest of humanity.
Priscilla stared at him, her face a mask of conflict. The thought of losing him was unbearable, but she saw the fierce resolve in his eyes, the undeniable truth in his words. She looked at her younger sons, their ribs faintly visible through their thin shirts, and swallowed hard. "Be careful, my son," she finally said, her voice trembling. "Please. Come back to us."
Eobard nodded, strapping the scavenged backpack onto his shoulders. He didn't have a weapon beyond his own transformed body, but that was more than enough. He kissed his mother's forehead, hugged his terrified brothers, and gave Shawn a firm, reassuring nod. Then, with a heavy heart, he slipped out of their apartment, into the broken, humid dawn of New York.
He chose the realm that had appeared over Central Park. While still terrifying, its physical manifestation seemed to have stabilized, less of a destructive chaos and more of a distinct, alien pocket. He navigated the ruined streets with a predatory awareness, his newly sharpened senses detecting the movements of mutated creatures before they could ambush him. He avoided conflict where possible, leaping over abandoned cars, scaling ruined structures with an unnatural agility. The Blood Barbarian Body moved with a fluidity and power he was still learning to fully harness, sometimes surprising him with its speed or the sheer force of his leaps. The Primal Hunger was a constant, low thrum, growing louder as he neared the park.
The transformation of Central Park was breathtaking, horrifyingly beautiful. Where once vibrant green lawns stretched, now stood colossal, gnarled trees with phosphorescent leaves, their branches twisting into impossible geometries. The familiar walking paths were replaced by veins of pulsating, glowing rock, some still hot to the touch. The air was thick with the scent of strange, exotic flora and the metallic tang of pure Qi. Above, where the New York sky should have been, was the swirling, ethereal vortex, its impossible colors bleeding into the very fabric of the realm, casting strange, shifting shadows. This was not a park; it was an ancient, primeval forest born of pure spiritual energy. The dark feeling he'd sensed from afar was palpable here, an oppressive aura of immense, timeless power.
He stepped over a rusted park bench, half-submerged in a pool of luminous, stagnant water. The transition was jarringly seamless. One moment he was on a broken urban street, the next, he was in a landscape that defied earthly logic. His senses were overwhelmed: the strange chirps and whistles of unseen creatures, the vibrant, alien colors, the sheer saturation of Qi in the air, so thick it felt like a pressure against his skin. His Primal Hunger roared, urging him deeper, promising release. He fought to keep his focus, to observe, to understand.
He moved cautiously, his Blood Barbarian senses his only guide. The creatures here were different from the city's mutated animals. They were denser, more vibrant with Qi, often boasting multiple limbs or strange, crystalline growths. He spotted a pack of what looked like mutated coyotes, their fur bristling with sharp, glowing quills, moving with unnatural speed. He ducked behind a colossal, fungal growth, its cap glowing with an eerie purple light.
Suddenly, he heard voices. Low, hushed, then a sharp, guttural cry. He moved silently towards the sound, his movements fluid and almost undetectable in his semi-transformed state. He found them in a clearing, a brutal scene unfolding.
Three figures, clearly awakened, were battling a grotesque creature that resembled a giant, mutated praying mantis, its segmented body shimmering with an unnatural green luminescence. Its forelimbs were razor-sharp scythes, capable of cleaving through solid rock.
One of the awakened, a stocky man with bulging muscles and veins that pulsed visibly with Qi, moved with raw, unrefined strength. He seemed to be an early Bronze Gene Demon Slayer, his every punch carrying immense force, but lacking finesse. He relied on brute power, grunting with effort as he traded blows with the mantis.
Another, a lithe woman, moved with startling speed, dodging the mantis's attacks. As she moved, her form flickered, her hand briefly becoming a blur of energy. She was an early Silver Gene Demon Slayer, her movements hinting at a nascent control over a unique elemental aspect, perhaps air or light. She darted in, delivering quick, precise strikes with a glowing dagger, but the mantis was too durable.
The third, a younger man, perhaps Eobard's age, stood back, fear evident in his posture. He sporadically conjured small, sputtering fireballs from his hands, throwing them uselessly against the creature's chitinous hide. He was likely a newly awakened Novice Gene Demon Slayer, his power rudimentary, barely controlled.
"It's too strong!" the Novice yelled, his voice cracking. "We need a Silver to take this thing down!"
"Quiet, boy!" the Bronze growled, smashing his fist into the mantis's leg, leaving a dent but no real damage. "We need to coordinate! Our Qi isn't enough!"
Eobard watched, his analytical mind working furiously. Bronze? Silver? Novice? The terms clicked into place, providing a framework for the power levels he'd instinctively perceived. He noted the subtle differences in their Qi fluctuations, the way their elemental powers manifested, the sheer gap between the Bronze and the Novice. He felt the vast, untapped potential within himself, the Blood Barbarian Body a coiled spring of power that dwarfed what he was seeing. Yet, they had control, however rudimentary. He had raw power, but little control.
The mantis, tiring of their attacks, lashed out with a forelimb, impaling the Novice through the chest with sickening speed. The young man gasped, his eyes wide with disbelief, then slumped, his fire Qi flickering out like a dying candle. The mantis roared, turning its attention to the Bronze and Silver.
Eobard felt a familiar surge of fury. He couldn't just stand there. These were human, like his family. They were trying to survive. He needed to understand these stages, and perhaps, this was how he would.
He launched himself from behind the fungal growth. He didn't use an element, he didn't conjure anything. He simply relied on the raw, terrifying speed and power of his Blood Barbarian Body. He was a blur of motion, slamming into the mantis's side with the force of a battering ram. The creature shrieked, a sound of surprise and pain, as its segmented body buckled under the impact.
The Bronze and Silver stared, momentarily stunned. Eobard didn't waste the opening. The Primal Hunger roared, an exhilarating surge as he felt the mantis's Qi. He instinctively knew what to do. He gripped its chitinous leg, feeling the ancient power in his muscles, and with a guttural cry, he pulled. The limb tore free with a wet shluck, green ichor gushing.
The mantis screamed, a high-pitched, agonizing sound, falling back. Eobard was on it instantly, ignoring the sharp pain of the creature's dying struggles. He saw the weak point, the exposed segment of its neck where the head connected to the thorax. With a surge of incredible, focused power, he plunged his fist into the vulnerable joint, ripping it wide open. The mantis convulsed, its remaining limbs thrashing wildly, then went still.
Eobard stood over the corpse, panting, his body vibrating. The Primal Hunger subsided, replaced by a strange, almost satisfying fullness. He looked at his hands, bloodied with green ichor, then at the stunned Bronze and Silver Demon Slayers.
"What... what are you?" the Bronze finally stammered, his eyes wide with a mixture of fear and profound respect. "I've never seen… you're not Silver, not Gold. What stage are you?"
Eobard shook his head, still breathless. "I don't know the stages. I just awakened. But I know what it took to beat that thing."
The Silver-ranked woman, cautious but intrigued, slowly approached. "That was... primal. Untamed. You just tore it apart. Most of us... we have to absorb Qi, refine it, train it. You seemed to just... use it. Are you a Bronze? Or something even more rare?"
"My name is Eobard," he said, pushing aside the fear of his own power. "I need to understand this. What are these stages? How do we get stronger?" His analytical mind reasserted itself, desperate for information.
The Bronze, still staring at the dismembered mantis, seemed to deflate slightly. "The stages... they're how we measure power now. How much Qi you can store and control. How much you've refined your body and your elemental affinity. You start as a Novice Gene Demon Slayer, barely able to manifest anything. Then Bronze, like me, basic strength, maybe a simple elemental pulse. Silver, like her," he gestured to the woman, "they have more control, more precision. Can manifest clearer forms. Then Golden, Black Gold, Diamond, Platinum, Ruby, Emerald, Earth, Heaven, Star, Emperor, and finally, the mythical Immortal Gene Demon Slayer."
He continued, almost reciting, "Each stage has seven substages: first and second are early, third and fourth mid, fifth and sixth late, and seventh is peak. The mantis you just ripped apart... that was a Mid-Bronze level beast. We needed a Peak Bronze, maybe a Low Silver, to handle it cleanly. You... you just brute-forced it."
Eobard absorbed every word, his mind already creating a mental diagram, a new power scale for the universe. His own raw power, how did it fit? He felt the profound difference between his untamed, almost monstrous strength, and their more refined, elemental control. He was an anomaly.
"And how do you... advance?" Eobard pressed.
The Silver-ranked woman spoke, her voice measured. "You absorb Qi. From the air, from specific Demon Crystal Cores found in these realms, from defeated mutated beasts. You refine it, circulate it through your body, empower your genes. There are ancient texts, too, fragments found in these realms that teach techniques, cultivation methods. But they are rare, hard to decipher. Most of us just… feel it out. Trial and error."
Eobard looked at the severed leg of the mantis, then at his own tingling hands. The Primal Hunger seemed to hum, a pleased vibration. It was demanding more. He understood now. The realm was a source. The creatures were resources. The stages were the path.
He reached down, his fingers brushing against the mantis's broken leg. A strange sensation, a pull, drew him in. He focused, pushing the innate energy of his Blood Barbarian Body into the limb. He felt the distinct Qi within the creature's core being drawn into him, a warm, invigorating rush that quieted the hunger, a profound sense of rightness. It wasn't just physical sustenance; it was spiritual nourishment. This was how they gained Demon Crystal Cores, how they truly powered up.
He felt a subtle, almost imperceptible shift within himself. Was it his own internal stage advancing? He didn't know the specifics, but he felt stronger, more stable. He was absorbing, refining.
"Thank you," Eobard said, looking at the stunned pair. "This information... it's invaluable."
The Bronze just stared. "You just... absorbed its core? Like that? Most of us have to carve it out, refine it with tools. What are you?"
Eobard didn't answer. He still didn't know. But he now had a path. He had a mission. He had to learn to master this power, to advance through these stages, to harness the resources of these terrifying realms. Not just for himself, but for his family. He needed to get stronger. Stronger than any Novice, any Bronze, any Silver. Strong enough to protect them from the slow decay, from the relentless, escalating power of the mutated world.
He quickly collected the remaining edible (or at least, less horrifyingly mutated) herbs he recognized and snatched a few small, glowing crystals from the ground – raw Qi, he now understood. He turned to leave the stunned Demon Slayers.
"Wait!" the Silver called out. "Where are you going?"
"Back to my family," Eobard replied, his voice firm, tinged with a new, resolute power. "To get stronger. And then, I'll find a way to stop this decay." He looked back at the swirling realm above, at the endless, terrifying potential it held. His genius, once confined to textbooks, was now unleashed upon a battlefield of spiritual energy and primal instincts. The SATs seemed impossibly distant, a relic of a world that no longer existed. This was his true test. And he would not fail.