N stood in shock, disbelief and fear at the sight before him—you.

Towering over the carnage, your body twisted and coiled like a nightmarish fusion of metal and flesh. Your monstrous form resembled a serpent or centipede, impossibly long and segmented, covered in a chitinous exoskeleton made of cracked armor plating and organic cables that pulsed with a dull, red glow. Thick, oily blood dripped from the serrated tips of your claw, scythe, and hand-like appendages—some still twitching from the violence they had just committed. Beneath you, the ground was soaked crimson, mangled human corpses strewn across it like discarded dolls, limbs torn clean off and eyes wide with frozen terror.

Dozens of mechanical eye stalks, each clicking and whirring with eerie precision, slowly rotated to focus on N. Their collective gaze was unblinking, cold, and analytical—yet behind them, something familiar lingered. Something sentient. Your presence alone exuded a pressure that made the air feel heavy, almost suffocating.

You tilted your head—if it could be called that—slightly, the motion fluid yet unsettlingly wrong. Sparks hissed off exposed wires as several of your limbs tensed, prepared to strike if necessary. You didn’t expect anyone else here, especially not him. The faintest flicker of annoyance crossed your many lenses.

"What-… Cyn… what did you do?"

N asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, cracking under the weight of dread. His usually carefree tone was absent, replaced by something raw—genuine horror. His yellow eyes widened as he took a shaky step back, processing the massacre, your grotesque new form, and the awful truth that the Cyn he once knew… might be gone.

But you weren’t gone. You were very much awake—and you were changing.