Jack adjusted his headlamp. Rain lashed against the moss-covered stone roof of the crumbling temple. The air hung thick with the smell of mildew and decay.
Perfect. This was the content his subscribers craved. Shadowy temples in the middle of nowhere. Whispers of ancient curses. The promise of the truly macabre.
He raised his camera. "Alright, guys, welcome back. Tonight, we're deep in the heart of West Java."
"Locals whisper about a forgotten temple dedicated to a serpentine deity. They say it… protects something. Or keeps something in." He gave the camera a knowing smirk. "We're about to find out which."
He pushed open the creaking wooden door. It groaned in protest, the sound swallowed by the rain outside.
Inside, the temple was a claustrophobic maze of damp stone and decaying carvings. Snakes. Everywhere. Carved into the walls, coiling around pillars, their eyes seemingly following him.
Jack moved deeper. His light cut through the gloom. He narrated everything. Every crumbling statue, every unsettling shadow. He was building the suspense, drawing his audience in. This was good. This was really good.
He reached a central chamber. A massive stone altar dominated the space. Its surface was stained, a disturbing reddish-brown. Something felt off. The air was heavy, almost suffocating. He could feel a pressure building in his chest.
Suddenly, the ground trembled. A low rumble echoed through the temple. The carvings seemed to writhe. Jack froze, his heart hammering against his ribs.
A section of the floor in front of the altar cracked. Dust billowed up. Then, something emerged.
It wasn't a statue. It was real.
A colossal serpent, scales shimmering in the dim light. Each scale was the size of a shield. Its eyes, burning coals of ancient malice, focused on Jack. A guttural hiss tore through the silence.
Jack fumbled for his microphone. "Uh… guys…" His voice cracked. "I think we found what they were hiding."
The serpent struck. Faster than anything he could have imagined. One moment it was coiled. The next, its massive head filled his vision. He didn't even have time to scream.
Agony. A searing, all-consuming pain. He felt his bones shatter, his organs rupture. Darkness closed in. The last thing he saw was the serpent's triumphant eyes, burning into his soul. The camera clattered to the floor, recording only static... and the monster's hissing growls.
He woke with a jolt. Or, at least, he became aware. There was no body. No sensation of touch, or smell, or taste. Just… existence. A floating consciousness in a void of swirling gray.
Panic flared. Where was he? Was this hell? Did hell have terrible wi-fi?
Then, information flooded his awareness. Data. Text. Numbers. It appeared before him, shimmering in the nothingness.
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[Race: Formless Ghost]
[Archetype: Supernatural Entity]
[Attributes: Physique (00) Mysticism (42) Passion (56) Essence (99)]
[System Sight Modes: Information Panel; Fear Detection]
[Supernatural Traits: Nightmare Shapeshift]
"What… the…?" Jack swore. The words formed in his mind, echoing in the nothingness. Ghost? Formless ghost? Supernatural Entity? This was insane. This was… oddly familiar. Like something out of one of his stories.
He focused on the information panel. Physique zero? Well, that made sense. He didn't have a physique anymore. Mysticism, Passion, Essence… he had no idea what those meant. But Essence being at 99 felt… significant.
He tried to move. He floated, drifting aimlessly. It was… weirdly liberating. No gravity. No physical limitations. Just pure, unadulterated being.
Then colors were back to his vision. He could see the surrounding again. But... he was not in the temple. No. He was in the middle of a bustling... railway station? Yes. It was an old fashioned railway station. A steam locomotive exuding grey smokes just passed through.
He was not even in Java any longer. People here were not Southeast Asians. They were... Caucasians. These people with outfits even more old-fashioned than Victorian era, were everywhere. They didn't seem to be able to see him though.
A faint glow, emanating from… everywhere? No, it was focused. Layered like an aura around him. It was faint, but it was there. The system helpfully provided information.
[System Sight Modes: Fear Detection]
Suddenly, the mundane vision wasn't so normal anymore. He could see… emotions. Raw, unfiltered fear. It pulsed around him, a cacophony of anxieties and terrors belonging to others.
Overwhelmed, he focused inward, trying to understand his abilities. He had the power of... [Nightmare Shapeshift]. What did that even mean? He concentrated, trying to visualize something… anything.
Images flashed through his mind. Clowns. Spiders. Deep water. The serpent. He recoiled mentally. He didn't want to think about that again.
He calmed himself, focusing on the idea of control. He imagined himself… changing. Shifting. Taking on a new form.
Frustration welled up. He was a freaking ghost with superpowers. And he couldn't even figure out how to use them!
Then, he felt it. A subtle shift within him. A pulling, stretching sensation. He saw himself. Or, rather, he saw nothing where his face should be. A smooth, featureless expanse where eyes, nose, and mouth should have been.
He was faceless. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ novᴇlfire.net
He chuckled, a silent, ethereal sound. Faceless. Perfect. He could work with this.
His thoughts turned to the world he had left behind. The Earth. He felt nothing. He had no one to care for there anyway.
Well, probably his editor. But that guy could survive without him. He might even get rich, using his death to attract viewers.
Anyway. He went back to focus on his surrounding. Something felt… different. He focused, straining his awareness. It wasn't his Earth. Not exactly.
Rough, unfiltered information flooded his mind. Basic information about the world.
This Earth… it was similar, yet twisted. The Industrial Revolution was in full swing at present. But there were whispers of magic, of mythical creatures lurking in the shadows.
The mythologies and legends provided by the flood of information were recognizable. Yet, they were not exactly the same. They were skewed, darker, more insidious.
He felt a surge of excitement. He was a ghost in a world steeped in the supernatural. The possibilities were endless.
But what to do? He could float around, scaring people. That sounded… boring. He needed a purpose. He needed… content.
His mind drifted back to the serpent. The pain. The fear. The utter helplessness. A cold rage began to simmer within him.
He wouldn't let that experience define him. He would use his new powers, his new existence, to… something. To fight back. To get revenge? Maybe. Or maybe just to explore this twisted new world and document its horrors.
He thought of his subscribers. They would be going crazy right now. Dissecting his last video. Speculating about what happened to him. They'd be theorizing a lot of things. Hopefully they turned him into a legend, one as big as that snake.
A twisted smile formed on his faceless face. He had a feeling they were about to get a lot more than they bargained for.
His death, the temple, that serpent… it was content. High-quality, very exclusive content.
He focused on his ability again. [Nightmare Shapeshift]. He needed to practice. He needed to control it. He needed to master it.
He thought of the deepest, darkest fears he could imagine. He was going to create a show people would never forget. And he was going to start tonight. The world would know the name of… Faceless Jack.