Nightmare Paradise : Starting as a Doctor

Lynn's eyes sharpened as they fixated on an individual positioned in front of the macabre structure. The figure stood tall, merging seamlessly into the unsetting scene. The scant illumination provided by flickering candlelight offered a mere glimpse of his obscured features.

The man had his back turned, completely unaware of the stealthy intruder’s presence. His attention was captivated by the intricate and elaborate ritual that was unfolding before him.

Once opulent and resplendent, his robes now bore the marks of neglect and disarray. They hung loosely around his form, their once vibrant colors faded and tarnished. 

There was no doubt that this man was Knott—the enigmatic person who had orchestrated the series of devastating monster attacks, causing panic in the town and leaving a trail of chaos in his wake.

No longer did this wealthy merchant exude the noble air that one would expect from a person of his stature. Instead, an unsettling aura of madness and obsession enveloped him, palpable even from a distance.

With his head tilted back, he faced the altar, muttering indiscernible words under his breath. Though the exact content of his speech remained elusive, the cadence and rhythm of his voice possessed an uncanny hypnotic quality. 

Lynn couldn't help but observe the mysterious mastermind for a moment, and to his surprise, the figure seemed visibly feeble and delicate, a stark contrast with the imposing persona he had previously envisioned.

The mental image he had constructed portrayed a cunning and formidable adversary, someone who exuded power and control. This unexpected contradiction unsettled him. It stirred within him a feeling of unease, a whisper of doubt that something was amiss. 

However, he understood the danger of underestimating an opponent based solely on their physical appearance. Looks could be deceiving, and disregarding someone due to their outward fragility could lead to disastrous consequences. 

Beneath this seemingly disheveled exterior, there could be a reservoir of extraordinary power and knowledge. Perhaps this apparent weakness was part of an elaborate ruse, a deliberate ploy to deceive.

As the chant continued, wisps of shadowy energy began swirling around in Lynn’s spiritual vision, as if summoned by the relentless incantations. These ethereal tendrils danced and twisted in the air, creating an eerie and otherworldly atmosphere.

Despite the perfect opportunity for launching a surprise assault, his curiosity and caution compelled him to stay hidden and continue observing, hoping to comprehend the nature of this ritual.

Suddenly, the previously dormant altar, which stood at the center of the ritualistic space, began to exhibit unsettling behavior. It pulsated with an alarming intensity, its surface undulating as if it were a living entity.

A ghastly sight unfolded. The twisted mass of bones and sinew convulsed and contorted. It appeared as though something alive was squirming within its core, fighting to break free from its macabre prison. 

Lynn's eyes widened, unable to tear his gaze away from the grotesque spectacle taking place before him. He witnessed a bulge beginning to form atop the altar, growing with an unnerving rhythm.

Then, in a moment that seemed to stretch into eternity, a final gut-wrenching crack shattered the silence. The bulge ruptured violently as if a dam had burst, and a putrid flood of vile fluids gushed forth with an unstoppable force.

From the midst of the grotesque eruption emerged a deformed creature, its misshapen form coated in a slimy veneer of mucus-like secretions. It slithered and wriggled, struggling to free itself from the remnants of its birthplace. 

It slid from the altar, landing on the cold stone floor with a heavy, wet thud. The being twitched and convulsed, its limbs flailing erratically as if not fully under its control.

Its head lolled to the side at an unsettling angle. Beady eyes devoid of pupils blinked open, reflecting no hint of awareness or cognition. An elongated snout hung slack, dripping strands of saliva that pooled beneath its misshapen jaw.

"Another failed experiment brought to life," Lynn immediately realized. He could discern familiar traces of a canine in its anatomy, but significant deviations distorted its form.

The misshapen monster started to move, dragging its malformed body across the cold stone floor. It seemed drawn towards the dark tunnel from which Lynn had entered as if possessing an innate drive to join the horde engaged in battle with the sheriff and his men.

As it approached, Lynn, concealed in the shadows near the opening, silently retreated further into the darkness, navigating the perimeter of the vast ritual chamber with swift and quiet steps.

Once the deformed being had disappeared into the passage, he let out a silent sigh of relief, refocusing his attention on Knott, the apparent mastermind behind these abominations, who remained engrossed in his mad incantations.

Furrowing his brow, he couldn't help but notice the disheveled man’s lack of reaction to the emergence of the creature. This unexpected behavior only deepened Lynn's sense of unease and suspicion.

He became certain that there was something fundamentally wrong with the situation, but he knew he couldn't afford to waste more time. He could get the answers to his questions after starting the battle.

With this realization, Lynn's focus sharpened, and a surge of adrenaline coursed through his veins.  In his mind, he made a resolute declaration, "The time has come to disrupt this ritual."

One of the most straightforward approaches to interrupting a ritual was to incapacitate or eliminate the performer.  With the element of surprise on his side, he hoped that executing this plan wouldn't prove too difficult.

Considering his options, he made the conscious decision to prioritize neutralizing Knott. It was important for him to gather additional information, specifically about the location of the sublimation material that he desperately needed.

Lynn remained in the shadows created by the flickering candlelight, biding his time as he observed the insane merchant continuing the bizarre ritual. His fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around the handles of his weapons, poised to unleash them when the opportune moment arrived.

Amidst the resounding chants, another throbbing protuberance commenced forming on the eerie altar, gradually expanding in size. Lynn's muscles tensed, mirroring the growth of the bulge, as he readied himself to act.

He comprehended the significance of launching his attack with impeccable timing, catching Knott off guard before he could create yet another abhorrent creation.

The bulge grew increasingly grotesque, wriggling and writhing as if something malevolent brewed within, struggling to break free from its embryonic confinement. The atmosphere pulsated with tangible tension.

And then, in a decisive instant, Lynn struck.

With extraordinary reflexes, he raised his pistol and fired a single round. The deafening blast of the Bloody Reaper shattered the hypnotic trance that had gripped the ritual chamber.

Surprised, Knott had little time to react as the projectile hurtled through the air, precisely finding its mark on his right shoulder, prompting an anguished cry to escape his lips. The sheer impact of the bullet sent him sprawling to the ground, near the macabre structure.

But Lynn didn’t stop there, he fearlessly charged forward, unleashing [String Threading]. In a mesmerizing display, numerous razor-sharp threads materialized, their purpose clear—to neutralize and bind the wounded man, leaving him unable to escape.

Contrary to his expectations, Knott didn’t resist at all and remained motionless and unresponsive after being struck by the bullet. He lay sprawled on the cold stone floor, resembling a lifeless figure.

Observing this unexpected turn of events, Lynn gradually reduced his pace and a look of confusion appeared on his face, causing his brow to furrow. He had anticipated a battle, but instead, silence and stillness greeted him.

Being only a short distance from the fallen man, something caught his attention. He redirected a razor-thin thread toward Knott's neck. The nimble strand sliced through the tattered robes, cutting away a section of cloth that had already deteriorated with time.

As the fabric fell away, a sight revealed itself that made Lynn sharply inhale. Etched upon the pale flesh was a mark—the very same symbol he had discovered on the controlled monsters.

The thread had also nicked the skin, causing a thin trail of blood to trickle from the wound. However, Lynn noticed something unsettling about the blood's shade and consistency as it sluggishly oozed from the cut.

Instead of the vibrant crimson he had expected, the oozing liquid appeared darkened and thickened, almost black in color.

A shiver ran down his spine. Every instinct within him screamed that he had stumbled upon a dangerous situation and that he needed to retreat immediately. Without hesitation, he began to back away, never taking his gaze off the motionless figure before him.

Suddenly Lynn froze, watching with widened eyes as Knott on the ground, abruptly turned his neck, staring directly at him.

A sinister smile crept across his face, gradually expanding as he burst into loud, unsettling laughter.