Report
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Griffin Scans
Author – Hero of death
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Chapter 1 - The beginning
Yoo Ji-Won, a 17-year-old high school student, had always lived an ordinary life—until the day the sky turned black and monsters filled the streets.
Screams echoed down the narrow street, sharp and panicked. The ground trembled beneath hurried footsteps as people rushed past with terror-stricken faces, pushing and stumbling over each other.
“What’s happening?” a voice cried out. “Why is everyone running away?”
Yoo Ji-Won stood in the center of the chaos, frozen.
“Where am I?” he murmured. “What’s that—?”
From the end of the street, a hulking silhouette emerged. It was a monster—grotesque and towering, with twisted limbs and a face that looked like a gothic nightmare carved from shadow and bone. Its eyes glowed faintly, full of hunger.
Ji-Won’s breath caught in his throat. “Is that… a monster?”
The creature roared and charged.
Ji-Won turned and ran, heart pounding in his ears. But the monster was faster. It caught him—its jagged claws tearing into him—and then, everything went black as pain overwhelmed him, limb by limb.
He screamed.
And then he woke up.
His body jerked upright in bed, soaked in cold sweat. Ji-Won gasped for breath, clutching his chest. The nightmare had felt too real.
“Ji-Won!” His mother burst into the room. “Are you okay? What happened?”
“It’s nothing,” he said, shaking his head. “Just… a nightmare.”
She came closer and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You’ve been having those a lot lately. Try not to worry. It’s just a dream.”
Ji-Won forced a weak smile. “Yeah. Just a dream.”
He got up, washed his face, and joined his parents for breakfast. The warm clatter of dishes and the scent of toasted bread brought a strange comfort. Before heading out, he waved to them like always.
“Bye, Mom! Bye, Dad!”
“Have a good day!” they replied in unison.
School passed like any other day. Classes, lunch, chatter with friends. But when Ji-Won returned home, something was off.
The house was quiet. Too quiet.
When he stepped inside, he saw them—figures in dark cloaks and shadowed faces, standing still like statues in the dim light.
“Dad? What’s going on?” Ji-Won asked. “Who are these people?”
But before the words could fully escape his mouth, the figures raised their hands. Dark energy pulsed from their palms and wrapped around Ji-Won like invisible chains. He struggled, but his hands were bound by something he couldn’t see—something cold and magical.
“This can’t be real,” Ji-Won whispered, panicked. “What is this?”
His father stepped forward, his face clouded with regret.
“You’ll understand one day,” he said softly.
And with that, he pushed Ji-Won into a swirling tear in space—a crack in the fabric of reality.
Ji-Won fell through it, screaming, the light of his world vanishing behind him.
Ji-Won fell for what felt like forever—through swirling shadows and spiraling silence—until finally, everything faded into black.
When he opened his eyes again, it wasn’t to the warmth of home, or even the cold familiarity of the nightmare. He was somewhere far worse.
A heavy darkness pressed in from every side. Stone walls, cracked and ancient, surrounded him like the ribs of some long-dead beast. Strange, flickering torches lined the room, their flames a ghostly blue that cast dancing shadows along the walls. The floor beneath him was etched with eerie symbols that pulsed faintly, alive with unnatural energy.
His body ached. He tried to move—but before he could stand, a sharp pain lanced through his head and everything faded again.
When Ji-Won woke a second time, he was no longer alone.
Around him, dozens of hooded figures stood in tight formation, chanting in low, guttural voices. The sound was unlike any language he had ever heard—like a mix of whispering wind and cracking bone. At the center of the room stood a massive altar, stained dark with old, dried blood.
Ji-Won’s breath quickened. His heart pounded in his chest.
“This… this is some kind of cult,” he whispered.
'Are they going to sacrifice me?'
Then he saw them—ten others. Bound, kneeling before the altar, trembling in terror. And before Ji-Won could fully process what he was seeing, the chanting grew louder. The hooded figures raised their arms and shouted in unison.
Ji-Won’s stomach turned as the robed figures began to move in a ritualistic formation. The chanting grew louder, deeper, more savage. Then, without hesitation, each cultist drew a curved ceremonial blade—dark, jagged metal that seemed to drink in the torchlight.
Ji-Won’s eyes widened.
“No… no, this can’t be real—”
The first blade fell.
A gash of red burst across the cold stone floor as the prisoner collapsed forward, lifeless. Then another. And another.
Each sacrifice was swift and brutal. Blood sprayed across the altar, staining it a deeper black. The cries of the dying were swallowed by the thunderous chanting, a symphony of madness and ritual.
Ji-Won watched in horror as the ten prisoners were slaughtered, their blood running down the grooves in the floor like rivers feeding an ancient thirst. The robed figures raised their hands, their voices reaching a fevered pitch as the blood coalesced in the air—rising, spinning, thickening.
From the red mist, something began to take form: a cloak, blacker than shadow, forged from agony, death, and dark magic. Its fabric shimmered, slick with the lives it had consumed, and the air grew heavy as it hovered over the altar.
One of the cult leaders stepped forward and turned to Ji-Won, who was paralyzed with shock.
“Yoo Ji-Won,” the man said, speaking his name as though it carried divine weight. “You have been chosen by the veil of shadows. Wear this, and become what you were meant to be.”
Ji-Won stared at the cloak. It pulsed, like it was breathing.
“No…I don’t want this,” he screamed, fear twisting in his
chest.
But no one listened.
The cloak was pressed into his arms.
~~~~~~~~~~chapter End~~~~~~~~~~
