Nightmare Paradise : Starting as a Doctor

After absorbing the shimmering orb fragments, Lynn sensed his insides gradually change, as if a long-dormant restriction had been lifted, unleashing primal instincts from deep within.

He felt an inexplicable desire for the sublimation materials strewn before him - a ravenous appetite clawed at his mind, yearning to undergo metamorphosis and demanding to be satiated.

“There is no time to delay,” he muttered in a voice barely above a whisper - the urges were threatening to overwhelm him. “If I do not start the ritual soon, my body might lose control.”

Fixing his gaze upon the three ominous catalysts - the [Distorted Flesh], the [Bestial Heart], and the [Cursed Doll] - his entire being sightly trembled from the intensity of the compulsion.

Firmly maintaining his composure, he could almost hear the whispers of the three sources of pollution, their spiritual essences calling out to him. The sensation was dizzying yet strangely intoxicating.

With a sense of urgency tightening his chest, he regulated his breathing, focusing his spirit to dispel the illusions. Then, with resolve igniting his gaze, he approached the pulsating objects on the ground.

Reaching out with shaking fingers, Lynn reverently caressed the surface of the container holding the [Cursed Doll] before opening it. Immediately after, the cavern seemed to thicken with a wicked energy.

Maniacal laughter and haunting sobs echoed, their discordant sounds originating from every direction simultaneously, causing him to furrow his brow. "It is stronger than last time," he noticed.

But despite the intensifying sensations, he did not flinch or back away. Instead, he leaned closer, embracing the cacophony of madness that washed over him, feeling the encroaching corruption start to spread.

"This is only the beginning," he calmly continued. After all, the ordinary sublimation ritual was just a form of controlled spiritual pollution - using it to mutate and break through the human limits.

But what he was about to undertake was a far cry from ordinary and was more radical and dangerous. Without hesitation, he steadied his trembling hand and extended it above the puppet.

He made a swift, decisive cut on his wrist, allowing crimson blood to burst forth and drip down onto the porcelain exterior. As the scarlet liquid made contact, the sinister atmosphere grew even heavier.

The doll greedily absorbed the blood, its eyes coming alive with an ominous red glow. The veiny blade in the delicate hands throbbed uncontrollably, imbued with a demonic sentience.

The wooden receptacle that served as a seal for the corrupting presence also began to break apart, unable to contain any longer the dark energy. Noticing the situation, Lynn did not panic.

Rather than being taken aback, he welcomed the power surge with open arms. Even more, he focused his mind, channeling his spirituality to greet the unleashed force without resistance.

When the two merged, the boundaries between his consciousness and the essence of the puppet blurred. Visions of fallen souls and dark emotions flashed in his mind, threatening his senses.

Suddenly, the seal shattered entirely, and the [Cursed Doll] emerged. Bathed in a blinding crimson light, it streaked through the air like a malicious missile, its target clear.

Purposely staying in place, he allowed the swirling, crazy ray to engulf him, penetrating his shaking flesh and merging with his spiritual being. That announced the start of the assimilation ritual.

Gritting his teeth against the severe pain, he braced himself, knowing this was just the opening. The plan was to absorb the three sublimation materials one after another, converting his body into their battlefield.

The clash of forces from the various pollution sources within him would push his existence to a critical juncture: either assimilate them and achieve a balance, breaking through to a higher state or collapse under the immense strain. That was the root of his earlier apprehension and why he considered the ritual suicidal.

As the cacophony of maniacal laughter and haunting sobs grew louder and more oppressive, filling every corner of the secluded cave, his facial features unconsciously mimicked the twisted expression of the puppet.

With furrowed brows and eyes wide with a mixture of suffering and determination, bloody tears streamed down his cheeks, and his mouth began to make the same chilling sounds in the surroundings.

Despite this ravaging corruption, Lynn persisted without faltering in his actions. His hand grabbed the second sublimation material - the [Distorted Flesh]. The mass of meat writhed vigorously, resembling a cluster of intertwined worms.

With a firm grip on the flask, he violently smashed it against his palm, allowing the active tentacles to explode out. Agony surged through him as they made contact, setting his nerves ablaze.

Through the shallow cuts caused by the glass shards, the tendrils slithered into his bloodstream, beginning their invasive journey under his skin, seeking to entwine and amalgamate with his physique.

Cells and tissues twisted and distorted wherever they passed, adapting to their alien presence. The flesh started to exhibit a sickly, mottled appearance like a rapidly spreading virulent infection.

He felt the alteration occurring to him, each catalyst driving a unique transformation. It was as though his core was being devoured and reconstructed by these wicked forces, leaving him with an unsettling feeling.

However, this situation took a turn when the [Distorted Flesh] clashed with the [Cursed Doll]. A fierce conflict erupted between the two, each vying for dominance over the body and spirit of their host.

Despite the additional sublimation material intensifying the agony within him by another level, every cell seeming pulled apart from the inside, the spread of the distortion paradoxically slowed down.

Amidst this confusion, an instant of clarity emerged. When the two distinct energies collided, a momentary cancellation followed, granting Lynn a brief respite from the relentless oppressive weight.

Sensing the volatile standoff, he gasped for breath. Sweat poured down his pallid face, sticking his dark hair to his skin. But he did not relax - the opportunity to fuse the third ritual component was approaching.

Because it was the focal point of the metamorphosis and the most risky and mortal phase, he needed the right timing to start. Carefully observing his ongoing mutation, he noticed the disparate batch of porcelain-like skin appear on his limbs in varying severity.

“Almost there… it should manifest now…,” he continuously mumbled in a low voice through clenched teeth like a summoning chant. As if responding, a faint blade gradually materialized in his palm.

The same butcher knife gripped firmly in the delicate hands of the [Cursed Doll]. The metal gleamed ominously, streaked with crimson lines that seemed to pulse like veins along the edge.

With a fierce decisiveness etched into his expression, Lynn seized the bloodstained weapon. He was going to use it to perform a surgical operation while suffering from spiritual pollution.

The goal: replacing and fusing his heart with the final sublimation material. Any misstep could prove fatal, but he remained courageous, focus unwavering as he positioned the razorblade over his chest.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, he plunged the blade downwards in a single fluid motion, slicing effortlessly through the layers of corrupted flesh, parting skin and muscle with careful precision.

Blood gushed forth, staining his clothes and the ground beneath him, but he refused to relent. His vision blurred when he forced the blade further, bearing down through the torture.

But this piercing torture forcibly sharpened his thoughts, driving away all extraneous distractions. Immediately, [Cell Proliferation] skill was activated, working tirelessly to minimize the extent of the self-inflicted mutilation.

Simultaneously, the [String Threading] ability deployed a web of fine, razor-sharp filaments that quickly stitched the damaged tissue and maneuvered bones and organs out of the way to create a clear path to the heart.

As he carved open his chest, the [Bestial Heart] resonated, its pulsating vitality synchronizing with the rhythm of his failing heartbeat, calling out to him like a beacon of primal power.

The [Distorted Flesh] and the [Cursed Doll] continued their violent dance within him, their corrupted essences clashing and wreaking havoc. Even some of his internal organs showed signs of corruption.

But Lynn remained firm, his attention persistent on the final element of the puzzle. He could feel his mortal core straining, desperate to merge with the powerful, mystical artifact.

With a weak hand, he clutched the [Bestial Heart], the shadowy mass within seemingly reaching out to him, causing a jolt of electricity to shoot through his body the instant they made contact.

Summoning every ounce of willpower, he ignored the momentary contamination and forcefully shoved the sublimation material into his pounding heart, inducing a sudden, excruciating sensation to tear through his chest.