Doom Verse

Moros and Misa kissed, the lingering warmth between them filling the grand cathedral as the crowd erupted in applause. Their kiss deepened, longer than expected, as if the world outside the church had momentarily stopped, frozen in time. Moros looked into Misa's eyes, his heart swelling with the weight of what they had just declared. But before he could say a word, the sound of crashing wood shattered the moment.

The massive cathedral doors flew open, their wooden frames splintering with unnatural force. Standing in the doorway was Voltra, his silhouette framed by a sickly, red light that bled from the outside world. His grin was wide, manic, like the maw of some predatory beast.

"How are you all!?" he called out, his voice ringing with a terrifying, almost gleeful madness. "Long time no see!"

Josh shot to his feet, his heart pounding in his chest as he staggered toward Voltra, relief briefly flashing across his face. "Where have you been? We were... we were worried about you!" His words, however, faltered as his gaze landed on Voltra's altered form. His eyes flicked over the grotesque new limbs and the dark, unnatural eye that now replaced Voltra's original one. "I see you've... gotten new limbs, and an eye too," Josh said with a strained smile, but his voice wavered with unease.

Voltra's gaze darkened, a twisted smile curling on his lips. "Yes, the new limbs," he said coldly, almost disinterested. "They're not mechanical."

Josh blinked, confused, his mind struggling to make sense of what he was hearing. "What... what do you mean?"

Voltra's patience seemed to snap in an instant. His expression twisted into something far darker, colder, as he let out a harsh sigh. Without another word, he struck Josh with brutal force. His fist slammed into Josh's stomach, a sickening crunch echoing through the room as the old mercenary was sent flying backward. The force sent him crashing into the pastor, who was helpless to avoid the impact. Josh's massive, mechanical body crashed into the man, and the pastor's bones broke under the weight of the impact, his body crumpling to the floor in a grotesque display. Blood exploded from the pastor's chest, spraying in all directions like a crimson mist.

The blood splattered across Misa's pristine white dress, a vivid contrast against the fabric as her eyes widened in horror. A scream of pure dread tore through the chapel, and the once jubilant gathering dissolved into chaos. Guests scrambled for cover, their voices trembling with prayers for survival.

Voltra, unfazed, slicked his hair back, his fingers twitching with malice. "What a noisy brat," he muttered, his voice dripping with contempt. A black, tendril-like appendage erupted from his hand, shooting out toward the guests. It slashed through the air with brutal precision, decapitating anyone who didn't immediately comply with Moros' command to drop to the floor. The sickening sound of flesh and bone being torn apart echoed through the chapel, and heads rolled, their lifeless eyes staring blankly at the now blood-soaked floor.

As Voltra slowly advanced toward Moros, a creeping darkness seemed to follow him, an inky, unnatural haze that bled from the edges of his form, expanding outward with each step. The darkness writhed, like a living entity, crawling and twisting around him, as if the very air around Voltra had become corrupted by his presence. The temperature dropped, the light dimmed, and the air became thick with dread. Every step he took seemed to swallow the light, casting an oppressive shadow on the chapel.

"Finally, some quiet," Voltra muttered, almost serenely, as he began his slow, deliberate walk toward Moros. His grin widened as he approached, savoring the fear and helplessness that now filled the air. "Long time no see," he crooned in a voice full of venom.

Moros, holding Misa in his arms, narrowed his eyes. His body was stiff, the protective instinct for her flaring in his chest as he faced the twisted version of the man he once called a friend. "You're not Voltra! What are you?" His voice trembled with disbelief, his mind struggling to comprehend the horror before him. The man standing in front of him had become something unrecognizable, something beyond human.

Voltra's smile never faltered, but his eyes gleamed with a malevolent satisfaction. "Oh, you're right... but wrong at the same time," he said, his voice mocking. His gaze flicked down to Moros' arms wrapped protectively around Misa. "Looks like you didn't get rid of your weaknesses, did you?" His tone turned cruel as he stepped closer, a gleam of dark amusement in his eyes. "But don't worry," he said, his smile growing sinister, "I'll help you with that."

Before Moros could react, Voltra's fist collided with his face. The blow sent Moros crashing to the floor, unconscious before he could even process the pain. Misa screamed, reaching out for him, but Voltra was already upon her, grabbing her roughly and yanking her away from Moros.

In the chaos, Misa found her voice, defiant despite her fear. "Get your filthy hands off me, you bastard!" she spat, struggling in Voltra's grasp. "What have you done to him? What have you become?!"

Voltra smirked, pressing his hand firmly against her throat, choking off her words. "Finally, some fire," he said with a low chuckle. "But it won't save you." With a swift strike, he knocked Misa unconscious, her body going limp in his arms as he turned his attention back to Moros.

"Hey, Hanz!" Voltra called into the air, his voice mocking. "I know you're still alive. Tell him... tell him when he wakes up, I'll be waiting for him at the center of the city." With a final, maniacal laugh, Voltra spread his wings, his laugh echoing as he flew away, leaving the shattered chapel in his wake.

Hanz, who had been standing to the side, rushed to Moros' side. His hands shook as he slapped Moros' cheek, desperate to wake him. "Moros! Wake up! Voltra... he took Misa! We need to move! Hurry!" His words were frantic, but there was no response from Moros. The blood pooling around them only seemed to intensify the urgency of the situation.

Moros slowly stirred, groaning as he pressed a hand to his throbbing jaw. "What happened?" he mumbled, blinking against the pain. "Why does my jaw hurt so much?"

"Voltra took Misa!" Hanz shouted, pulling Moros up with urgency. "We need to go now! Josh... I can't find Sandro. He's gone too!"

Still reeling, Moros struggled to stay upright, his vision swimming as he tried to make sense of the situation. The urgency of Hanz's words cut through the fog in his mind, and with a grim nod, he pushed himself to his feet. Together, they struggled to pull Josh's massive, mangled body free from the wall, his mechanical parts screeching under the strain. Hanz grunted with effort, but it wasn't enough.

"Come on, we have to go!" Hanz shouted, his voice laced with desperation. But as they finally freed Josh, a horrific sound broke through the chaos—a guttural, inhuman growl.

A massive creature, a dog twisted and corrupted by the black matter, burst through the church doors, its glowing red eyes fixed on Hanz. The dog's form was bloated and grotesque, with patches of matted fur and dark tendrils seeping from its body. But, it's teeth weren't for Hanz, as the Dog went in Spinell, who managed to survive, and until this moment was unconscious screamed, and dogs attention went to him. It rushed to Spinell. Its jaws were wide, dripping with a thick, black substance.

Before Spinell could react, the creature lunged at him with blinding speed. Its massive, razor-sharp teeth sank into his neck, severing his head in one swift motion. Blood sprayed everywhere, the headless body of Spinell collapsing to the floor, his limbs twitching in their final moments.

Moros, now fully awake and in horror, could only stare as the dog retreated, dragging Spinell's severed head away with it. The world around him seemed to slow, his mind unable to process the brutal loss. But he had no time to mourn.

As, Spinell's body fell lifeless to the ground, Moros' resolve hardened. He couldn't let this chaos consume him. He couldn't let it claim Misa, or anyone else.

Together, he, Hanz and Josh staggered toward the doors, while the dog was eating their friends flesh, and without weapons they were unable to do anything. Only thing left was running away, the outside world now a twisted nightmare of blood and corruption. The sky was a sickly, pitch-black void, save for a single, glowing red orb that hung like an ominous, malignant sun above the city. The air was thick with the stench of blood and decay, and the streets were littered with the mutilated bodies of the fallen. The lakes of blood that had formed in the streets seemed to pulse with a life of their own, floating in grotesque patterns, with twisted, deformed creatures rising from their depths.

But it wasn't just the bloodied streets or the disfigured bodies that made Moros' blood run cold. As they moved forward, they saw the corrupted creatures. Once simple dogs, rats, and cats—familiar faces of the city—now roamed in packs, their bodies bloated and misshapen, slick with black, tar-like substance. Their eyes glowed with a sickly, red hue, their teeth jagged and dripping with blood.

The dogs were no longer pets; they were beasts of the Doom, mutated by the same dark matter that had transformed Voltra. Their fur had fallen away, replaced by an oily, slick coating, and their bodies seemed to twitch with unnatural energy. The once-innocent rats now scurried in swarms, their bodies elongated and skeletal, their fur matted and patchy. Even the cats—once graceful and sleek—were now hunched, their movements jerky and erratic, their claws sharp and gleaming. Their once-innocent eyes now shone with a predatory hunger, their bodies pulsing with the dark energy that had overtaken the city.

And as if that weren't enough, the people who had managed to survive, those who hadn't already been claimed by the corruption, now cowered in the shadows. They were hunted by these creatures, once pets, now the embodiment of the Doom that had consumed the city. The streets had become a battleground, where the survivors fought not just to stay alive, but to retain whatever scraps of their humanity remained.

The despair in the air was palpable, and the city—once a place of life, laughter, and hope—had become a twisted, nightmarish reflection of the corruption that had overtaken the world. Moros clenched his fists, the weight of what had happened settling heavily on his shoulders. "I have to save her," he muttered, the words raw with determination. "Misa... I won't let them take you."

Hanz and Moros pressed on through the streets, the darkness closing in around them. As they moved forward, the air grew colder, and the creatures seemed to be closing in, sensing their presence. But Moros' resolve was unshakable. He would save Misa, no matter the cost.