Temple of the Demon Lord of Wishes

Chapter 8 Unexpected Development

Ivaim froze, his eyes locking on the strange brown cat sitting outside the window. Its glowing eyes watched him closely, and its paw moved like it was calling him over. His chest tightened as he gripped the gun, slowly raising it to aim at the cat.

This wasn't just any cat—he could feel it. Something about it was wrong.

'It's definitely the Reality Master..."

Just as he was about to pull the trigger, a deep yet optimistic voice behind him sounded out to break the silence.

"Oh? Moris is here? Adam, you can let him in now. There's snacks on the cabinet for him."

Ivaim watched from across the room as his "dad" motioned toward the window, silently suggesting the brown cat should be let inside. The cat outside pressed its paw against the glass, its sharp eyes scanning the room as if it knew more than it should.@@@@

Ivaim stayed where he was, his hands clenching at his sides. A strange tension filled the air, and he couldn't shake the feeling that something was very wrong.

'A trap? Maybe... but what if it's not? Letting that cat in feels like a risk, but perhaps ignoring it will be worse?'

Just as he was about to overthink the entire situation once more, the Gods seemed to have listened to his worries as a system notification popped up once again.

[Sub-task (Optional) : Main task will begin once the window is opened]

Seeing this, Ivaim felt no relief—only a growing sense of unease. His grip tightened around the gun, his knuckles white as he scanned the room for something to defend himself with.

Moving to the kitchen counter, he reached out and grabbed one of the knives lying on it. The cool steel felt solid in his hand, a small comfort against the weight of the unknown. Whatever was coming, he wasn't going to take any chances.

'In any case, the main task needs to be completed if I want to escape this Fractured Reality. There's no point in hesitating now. I might as well prepare myself for whatever comes next.'

As these thoughts echoed in his mind, his "mother's" voice cut through the tension.

"Hm? Adam? What's that knife for?"

He didn't respond. Ignoring her questioning tone and the unease in her voice, he walked toward the window with steady steps. Without hesitation, he gripped the frame and pulled it open, his focus fixed on the task ahead.

The brown cat slipped inside with quiet ease, settling comfortably on the floor. With a soft purr, it brushed against Ivaim's legs, its fur warm and smooth against him.

Suddenly, a plate crashed to the floor behind him, breaking the silence. Ivaim turned quickly, raising the gun and pointing it toward the source of the sound.

As he turned to look behind him, he froze in shock. The brown-haired woman who had appeared lively just moments ago was now covered in bruises, as if she had been struck repeatedly.

One of her eyes was swollen and discolored, a deep purple, and dark bruises marred her arms, telling a silent story of pain and violence.

The man who claimed to be his "father" now had a noticeable beer belly, and his once-attractive, drooping eyes carried a sharp, oppressive anger.

The warmth they once held was gone, replaced by something cold and unsettling.

In his hand, there was no flute to be found—only a knife, which he gripped tightly, the blade catching the light as if waiting to be used.

"Adam, how many times have I told you not to let that cat in anymore?"

His "father" shouted, his voice sharp with anger.

As the scream faded and Ivaim's thoughts returned, he was stunned to see that the mutated father, who he had shot in the head just moments before, was no longer on the ground.

Instead, he was back on his feet, his deformed body charging toward Ivaim with horrifying speed.

Ivaim immediately rolled to the side, his instincts kicking in as his mind raced, overanalyzing every detail of the situation.

'Not dead? Am I missing something? Do they have a weak spot I'm supposed to aim for?

After rolling to the side, he was about to aim his gun and shoot at the mutated man once again, however another piercieing scream sounded out which made Ivaim delay his actions.

Instead of shooting, he was slammed away as the mutated man rushed towards him.

As he was slammed away, due to his enhanced luck, instead of crashing onto a wall, he was greeted by the sofa which turned over when he landed on it.

However, the impact from the mutated man slamming onto him involuntarily made him almost vomit due to how painful it was on his stomach.

After rolling to the side, Ivaim quickly raised his gun, ready to fire at the mutated man again.

But before he could pull the trigger, another piercing scream rang out, forcing him to hesitate and throwing off his focus.

In that split second, the mutated man lunged at him, slamming into him with brutal force.

The impact sent Ivaim flying across the room. By sheer fortune—likely thanks to his enhanced luck—he didn't crash into the wall. Instead, he landed on the sofa, which overturned under his weight.

Even so, the collision left him gasping for air, the pain in his stomach so intense it nearly made him vomit.

He clutched at his abdomen, struggling to recover as he started thinking of solutions.

'There must be something I'm missing... Am I supposed to take out the mutated mother first? No, that wouldn't make sense...'

The thought raced through Ivaim's mind as he sprinted across the room, his eyes fixed on the gun that had been flung away when he was slammed earlier. He knew he needed to reach it, but the mutated man wasn't about to let him move freely.

The creature charged after him, its blade-like arm swinging down, aiming to strike.

Just as the blade was about to hit, Ivaim tripped over something on the floor.

He fell forward, hitting the ground hard, but the unexpected stumble caused the attack to miss, the blade slicing through empty air just above him.

Seizing the moment, Ivaim dove forward, snatching up the fallen gun with his hands.

He spun around, his heart pounding, expecting to face the mutated man or woman again. But the thought of something made him pause.

His focus shifted.

It wasn't the grotesque figures closing in on him that held his attention—it was the brown cat.

The creature sat calmly amidst the chaos, its glowing eyes locked onto his. There was something unnerving about the way it watched, as if it were studying him, waiting for something. Unlike the frenzy of the room, the cat's stillness felt deliberate, its presence commanding and unnatural.

Ivaim's breathing quickened as a wave of clarity hit him. This wasn't just a bystander in the madness; this cat was the cause. It had been watching the entire time, almost as though it were enjoying the torment.

"It's you."