The universe is an incomprehensible expanse, stretching across countless galaxies and housing planets that humanity can only glimpse through the lenses of powerful telescopes. Many of these worlds remain undiscovered, hidden in the dark corners of space, so perhaps teeming with alien life.
Yet, the physical cosmos is only one layer of existence. Beyond the reach of regular dinsions known to man lie separate planes, worlds that occupy the sa space as the human world but vibrate at a different frequency, making them entirely inaccessible through conventional ans.
One of these hidden planes is a realm eternally shrouded in a thick, suffocating red mist. This miasma doesn't just hang in the air; it saturates the land, covering the entire planet in a crimson haze. The terrain of this world is a surreal nightmare, shifting from vast, desolate wastelands to clusters of giant, jagged dark stalactite rocks that pierce the sky. In so rare pockets, fragnts of greenery remain, but they have been twisted and corrupted by the strange mist, their leaves a sickly, darkened hue.
In this separate world, on a patch of orange-colored earth, lay the shattered body of Unzoku. He was not alone in his exile. Strewn across the landscape were the unmoving forms of Glutton Werewolves, their bodies discarded like broken toys in various states of disrepair.
For a long ti, there was no movent, only the silent swirl of the crimson air. Then, the red mist began to react. It started to gather in the atmosphere, pouring toward the bodies on the ground in a violent, swirling vortex. As the energy condensed and surged into his chest, Unzoku’s eyes finally snapped open. There was no white left in them; they were orbs of solid, glowing red.
Slowly, the process of regeneration began. His heart, once silent, gave a heavy, sluggish thump. Muscles began to pulsate and knit together under his skin, laboriously rebuilding the mass he had lost in the explosion. The nearby Gluttons were undergoing a similar, painful revival, but it was clear that it would take a significant amount of ti before Unzoku and his remaining thralls were back in one piece.
“That should be enough. You can at least speak now,” a voice echoed through the wasteland.
The sound made Unzoku’s entire being recoil. It was a voice he had heard many tis before, his master, his benefactor, but now it wasn't a whisper in his mind. It was a direct, piercing presence that seed to screech against the inside of his brain. Every instinct in Unzoku’s body scread at him to run, to hide, to escape the crushing weight of that sound.
“I’m… here. Am I in the Red Space?” Unzoku rasped, his newly ford vocal cords struggling to produce the sound.
“Yes,” the voice replied coldly. “And you know exactly what that implies. I was able to pull your essence over to this side only because you had practically died. My connection to you grew strongest at the mont of your expiration. If I hadn't reached through the veil and pulled you down here, where I can exercise the full extent of my powers, you truly would have been erased from existence.”
Unzoku replayed the final monts of the fight in his mind. He knew the voice spoke the truth. He had been vaporized, his life extinguished by a power he couldn't comprehend. Only a being with the ability to reach across dinsions could have salvaged what was left of him.
“You have failed your task, Unzoku,” the voice continued, dripping with disappointnt. “You have forced to expend a significant portion of my own gathered power to save you. Furthermore, because of your failure, I now have one less pawn on that world to move.”
Unzoku remained silent, his mind racing as he considered the implications of his new location. While the voice had the power to pull him into this plane when his soul was flickering out, it did not have the power to simply send him back. Unlike the space where he had been trapped in the past after his conflict with Jack, this was not a temporary prison. He was permanently exiled to the Red Space.
“I do not plan to remain in this shadow realm forever,” the voice said, its tone turning sharp and ambitious. “There will be a chance for us to escape this place. But when that day cos, we must be stronger than we ever were before. Do not fail again, Unzoku.”
Left alone on the orange dirt, Unzoku could only stare up at the swirling red sky. The images of his final monts, of the boy who had brought him to this, were burned into his mory.
‘There is no doubt about it… that was the power of a Dragon he wielded. But weren't all of them supposed to be extinct?’ Unzoku wondered. ‘I knew there were Altereds who mimicked dragons, but a true Dragon-Werewolf hybrid? Is that how he achieved such a disgusting level of power? Regardless… if we ever et again, I will make sure I don't lose. I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll eat everyone and everything until I am the strongest thing in any dinsion.’
While Unzoku was coming to terms with his exile, the hero of the battle was experiencing the price of victory. Gary had expended every single cell of energy in his body, pushing his system far beyond its breaking point. It was no surprise when his vision went black and he slipped into a deep, heavy unconsciousness.
However, even while his eyes were dark and his mind was silent, a shimring interface appeared in the void of his subconscious.
[Congratulations. You have defeated the Progenitor who started your Werewolf Bloodline]
[Reward: Calculation in progress...]
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