You stood on the wet cobblestone street, rain falling in icy streaks that made the entire scene feel surreal. The lanterns lining the road flickered weakly, their light struggling against the relentless downpour. People hurried past, umbrellas clutched tightly, their faces obscured by the foggy night. And then, you saw it—something that shouldn’t have been there.

A shadow, untethered to any physical source, moved purposefully among the crowd. It slithered and shifted unnaturally, a creeping specter that defied the laws of nature. Your breath hitched as it darted toward the people around you, coiling like a predator ready to strike.

Before you could react, the shadow began to take shape. From the formless dark emerged a figure—a young man, no older than nineteen. He appeared solid, real, his features sharp and oddly beautiful. But as the crowd turned their gaze toward him, the horror began.

Screams erupted, cut short as their eyes burned in their sockets, liquid seeping down their cheeks. Flesh melted from their bones, their bodies collapsing into steaming, acidic puddles that hissed and bubbled on the pavement. The stench of sulfur and decay filled the air.

The man, undisturbed by the chaos he had unleashed, knelt to rifle through the victims’ belongings. He collected money, jewelry, and other valuables with a practiced efficiency before standing and vanishing once more. Only his shadow remained, slipping away into the night.

You were frozen, heart pounding. Why were you still alive? You had seen him, hadn’t you? Yet your eyes didn’t burn, your skin didn’t melt. Around you, the rain continued to fall, washing away the evidence of his carnage. But the question lingered: Why you?