Hearing what Spider said, Jack focused his Sight Modes.
He peered through the man's physical form. Scanning his inner essence. First his aura. The glow of normal human. He wasn't a transcended being.
Next, his karma...
This karma... Jack's spectral senses recoiled. It wasn't just dark. It was a churning, coiling blackness. Shot through with streaks of greasy red.
It pulsed with cruelty. With cold, callous disregard for life. It was the karma of a walking abomination. Even blacker than that of the transcendent criminals Jack knew of. The damned members of the Night Salvation.
This guy here wasn't just evil. He was a monster in human skin.
Spider was hovering some distance behind Jack. He let out a small, spectral whimper. Jack felt his own rage sharpen to a razor edge. This was Mr. Boulder, huh?
Jack showed evil grin behind his spectral mask. Preparing to unleash the worst punishment he could give.
Boulder grunted. Fumbling with a heavy padlock on a reinforced cellar door. Built into the side of the building. He got it open. And disappeared inside the dark opening.
Jack followed. Invisible. Phasing through the solid wood of the door.
The cellar was large and damp. Underground. The air was thick with the scent of disinfectant. Trying and failing to mask the deep smell of blood and offal.
Tools were hung on the walls... hooks, saws, cleavers. A large, sturdy wooden block stood in the center. Deeply scarred and stained. It looked like a butcher block.
Boulder grunted again. Letting the sack drop with a horrifying thud onto the concrete floor. He knelt. Reaching into the sack.
Jack watched. His invisible spectral form was vibrating with suppressed fury. Spider was a faint presence near the ceiling. A silent observer.
Boulder pulled something out of the sack. It was a child.
A small girl. Maybe eight years old. Gagged and bound. Her eyes were wide with terror. She looked frail. Breakable.
Spider gasped. A soundless spectral cry. "Weedy." He breathed. "It's Weedy."
Jack could hear that soft whisper. It seemed like Spider was familiar with the girl. Weedy. Another street kid.
Boulder didn't hesitate. He dropped the terrified girl onto the stained butcher block. She whimpered. Struggling against her bonds.
He stood up. Wiped his hands on his blood-stained apron. And walked over to a counter. He reached for a large, heavy butcher knife. The metal gleamed dully in the dim light filtering in from a single bare lantern.
He raised the knife.
Jack didn't think. He didn't plan. He didn't weigh options.
The sight of that innocent child on the block. The glint of steel. The blackness of Boulder's soul. It was too much.
The anger that had been simmering erupted. Pure and raw. This was it. The truly guilty. The abyss of human cruelty.
The [Mysterious Anomaly] trait flared to life within him. A sudden, intense surge of focused power.
He didn't need to see the demonic dog. He didn't need more proof. This Boulder had butchered children to feed his pet. That was enough. More than enough.
Jack directed the full force of his spectral abilities. Amplified to an unimaginable degree by the Anomaly. At Mr. Boulder.
He reached into the butcher's mind. Not to instantly kill. But to torture. To twist his reality into a perfect reflection of his sins and his... hidden fear.
He hit Mr. Boulder with the worst possible nightmare. The nightmare that was almost real.
Boulder froze. Knife raised. His eyes blew wide. Not with fear of Jack. But with sudden, internal terror. The cellar around him didn't change physically. But his perception of it shattered.
To Mr. Boulder, the damp, bloody cellar floor didn't just smell of decay. It was vthe decay. A quivering mass of rotting flesh and bone.
The tools on the wall weren't made of steel. They were made of bones. His bones. The implements of his own torture. Stained with the blood he shed.
The butcher block wasn't wood. It was the living, screaming forms. Of every child he had ever butchered. Their small bodies were writhing. Their silent cries echoing in his ears.
The vision in Mr. Boulder's perception was filled with gruesome image. The ghostly forms of his victims were appearing just at the edge of his vision.
Her ears were assaulted with the screams. Mixed with the whispering accusations. And evil laughter promising eternal torment.
The faint smell of blood mixed with disinfectants changed. It became the overpowering, sickly scent of sulfur and blood.
Mr. Boulder felt painful bite on his leg. It was the gnawing teeth of the demonic dog. But now it was feeding on him. Tearing strips of flesh. Grinding his bones between its impossible jaws.
And the small girl on the block, Weedy? She didn't vanish. No. The Anomaly was far crueler.
She grew. Grew into a monstrous, vengeful spirit. Her eyes were burning with hellfire. Her teeth were bared. She was reaching out with spectral claws. That were dripping with the phantom blood of her friends.
She caught his knife-holding arm. And crushed the skin, flesh, and bones. The sensation of pain assaulted Mr. Boulder senses.
He dropped the knife with a clatter. He didn't scream. He couldn't. The nightmare was too real. Too overwhelming.
He simply stood there. Paralyzed. His face was a mask of absolute, soul-shattering horror. Lost in the abyss of his own making.
He twitched. His body was rigid. His eyes were staring blankly at nowhere.
But his mind was trapped in a hell forged from his own crimes. An illusion hell made sickeningly tangible in his whole senses... by Jack's power.
Weedy, the real girl, was still bound on the block. She was still watching her captor with terrified, confused eyes. The gag muffled her own cries.
She didn't see the monsters. She just saw the big, scary man suddenly freeze. His face contorted in a silent scream.
Jack hovered. Invisible. Watching the butcher suffer.
The suffocating grudge around Spider lessened slightly. Replaced by a cold, watchful stillness. Spider could somehow felt that Mr. Boulder was experiencing cruel punishment now.
He drifted down from the ceiling. Somewhere behind Weedy. His spectral form shimmering faintly. He looked at Mr. Boulder. Then at Weedy. Then back at Mr. Boulder.
Jack felt no pity. Only a grim satisfaction. Mr. Boulder deserved every second of this engineered torment. This was justice. Jack's justice. Swift, brutal, and utterly inescapable.
And thanks to the [Mysterious Anomaly]. It would feel like waking up in hell. Every single second. For as long as Jack willed it.
The girl was safe. For now. The butcher was being dealt with. The next steps were clear. Free the girl. Decide Mr. Boulder's fate.
Suddenly...
A sound cut through the cellar's oppressive silence. Not a sound from the street above. Or from the house. It was from within the cellar itself.
A low growl. Deep and guttural. Vibrating in the very air. It seemed to come from the shadows under the sturdy butcher's block.
Weedy flinched violently. Trying to pull against the ropes that bound her wrists and ankles. The growl was primal. Terrifying.
Spider's head snapped towards the source. His spectral form tensed. Becoming sharper. More defined by fear than by rage. He knew that sound. He'd heard it. Briefly. Before everything went black.
From the inky blackness beneath the block. Two points of malevolent red light flared. Eyes. Following them, a snout emerged. Sleek and black. Dripping with some dark, thick substance.
The growl intensified. A rumbling earthquake in the small space. Then the rest of the creature spilled out.
It was a dog, yes. But not just a dog. Its fur was the color of midnight smoke. Thick and coarse. Its body was impossibly lean. All bone and sinew and coiled power.
Its paws were tipped with claws like obsidian shards. Scraped against the stone floor. Its jaw opened. Revealing rows of teeth like broken glass. And a tongue the color of old blood. A faint, sickly heat radiated from it.
This was the thing Mr. Boulder had been feeding. This was the 'demonic dog' Spider had spoken of. And it wasn't here for scraps anymore. It was here for the tied fresh meat on the block.
With a sound like tearing canvas, the creature lunged. Directly at Weedy.
There was no time for thought. Only reaction. Jack's invisible spectral form shot forward. He instinctively channeled the raw, chaotic power of [Mysterious Anomaly].
This time, it wasn't just pure illusion. It was deformation of reality. Subtle pushes and pulls on the world itself. One of the skill's origins was [Mysterious Control] after all, a telekinetic power of touch.
He slammed into the dog's side, not with physical force. But with a jolt of telekinetic energy. The sudden impact didn't hurt it. But it threw its trajectory off.
It missed Weedy's bound form completely. Hitting the floor with a heavy thud instead of landing on her.
But the fight hadn't finished yet.