Secret Magical Lovers: Yandere Isekai Novel

"Huh?"

The monster let out a confused grunt, its voice distorted and guttural. Though its expression was hidden beneath its grotesque visage, confusion was evident in its posture as it stared at the human lying lifelessly on the ground.

Or rather, the human who should have been lifeless.

Yet, against all logic, against the very nature of mortality—he stood up.

Slowly, shakily, but with an unnatural steadiness, the once-dead human rose to his feet.

"I didn't think you'd still be alive, clinging to your soon-to-be-ended life," the monster scoffed, tilting its head. "I don't understand how an ordinary human can still move after that, but it doesn't matter. You're still my prey."

The human didn't respond. He simply stood there—silent, unmoving.

That was strange. The monster had expected him to panic, to scream, to beg for mercy before foolishly trying to run. That was how it always went. The thrill of the hunt, the desperate chase—it enjoyed those moments.

But this human…

There was no fear.

"So quiet," the monster mused. "Aren't you going to beg? Cry? Scream your last words?"

Nothing.

Then, something happened.

The human's body twitched—once, then again. His limbs jerked unnaturally as if something inside him was breaking apart and rearranging itself. His body convulsed in sharp, erratic movements, and then—

His skin began to melt.

Not burn. Not peel. Melt.

Thick, fleshy strands of liquefied skin dripped off his body, pooling at his feet like candle wax. His clothes disintegrated along with it, dissolving into nothingness.

His eyes fell from their sockets.

Wet, lifeless spheres plopped onto the ground, rolling away as the exposed flesh of his face stretched and tore apart. His muscles ripped open, expanding grotesquely as his body began to grow. His bones creaked and cracked, lengthening unnaturally as his entire frame swelled in size—five times larger than before.

But what was most horrifying?

He never screamed.

Not once.

As his body rotted and decayed at an accelerated rate, his flesh completely withered away—yet his bones remained intact, bound together by some unseen force. His fingers lengthened into sharp, jagged claws, and his skeletal jaw twisted into something sharper, more monstrous. His teeth—once human—were now a row of serrated fangs.

Inside his hollow eye sockets, a cold, blue light ignited—faint at first, then burning fiercely.

Finally, something manifested around his skeletal frame—a long, tattered black robe, woven from an unknown darkness. It billowed and twisted, layers of fabric moving as though alive, wrapping around his body like a reaper's shroud.

And then—

He stood there.

No longer human. No longer dead.

Something else entirely.

"A unique monster?"

The creature muttered to itself, its many eyes narrowing in confusion.

It had heard of them before—humans who, consumed by overwhelming negative emotions, transformed into monsters instead of dying. These unique monsters were rare, each one having a distinct appearance, abilities, and power. No two were ever the same.

But something didn't make sense.

For a human to turn into a unique monster, the transformation had to occur just before death or at the exact moment of dying. If a human died normally, their soul would simply fade away. There was no coming back.

Yet, the human it had just killed… had died.

There was no doubt about it. His heart had stopped. His body had broken. His life had ended.

And now—he was standing, no longer human.

But how?

The monster didn't understand.

It narrowed its gaze further, taking a cautious step back. There was something else off about this situation—something that made its unease grow stronger.

Unique monsters had a distinct scent. A strange aura that separated them from both humans and regular monsters. It was an unmistakable presence, one that all monsters could recognize on instinct.

But this new creature standing before it… had no such scent.

Whatever had just happened here—this was not normal.

But there was no time to dwell on that.

It had to end this now.

It could sense that the creature's power was equal to its own—at least, for now. Letting it grow stronger would be dangerous. The best option was to strike first and finish it before it could become a real threat.

Without hesitation, it raised its arm, the flesh twisting and hardening as it reshaped its hand into a massive drill-like weapon. With a violent lunge, it thrust the spinning drill forward, aiming to crush the skeletal figure and shatter its bones into dust.

But just before the attack landed—the monster vanished.

What?!

It froze, its eyes darting around. Where did it go?!

Then—pain. Blinding, searing pain.

A scorching heat erupted across its back, a sensation so intense that it roared in agony. It could feel its flesh burning, sizzling as flames consumed it. The heat spread rapidly, devouring its body like wildfire.

Fire. Its weakness.

It howled, thrashing violently. It wouldn't let itself be burned alive! With a desperate move, it spun its body in a violent tornado, generating a gust of wind so strong that it extinguished the flames. The fire vanished, but the damage had already been done—nearly half its body was burned, the charred flesh still smoking.

It turned its gaze toward the skeletal figure.

The creature was raising its bony hand.

Before it could react, a sharp projectile shot toward it.

A bone spike.

The spike pierced straight through its torso, stabbing deep into its flesh. Another followed. Then another.

Its legs were struck next, the spikes driving through muscle and bone, pinning it down. It collapsed to the ground with a heavy thud, a monstrous scream of pain escaping its mouth.

Unacceptable!

Rage burned through its body. It wasn't going to die like this!

With a desperate counterattack, it raised both arms and fired two massive bone spears at the enemy. The projectiles tore through the air, shattering two trees in the distance—but the target was already gone.

It vanished again.

Before it could process what happened—a dozen more bone spikes tore through its body from behind.

It screamed. The pain was unbearable.

And then—the skeletal figure appeared in front of it.

Slowly, it watched as its enemy clenched its bony fist.

....

"It's done."

Ezakiel's hollow voice cut through the silence as he looked at the monster's remains. The creature that had killed him—was now nothing more than scattered chunks of flesh and bone. Its body had been blown apart from the inside, torn to pieces, its remains splattered across the ground like shattered stone.

He had reduced it to nothing.

A strange sense of satisfaction settled within him. He had done it. He had killed the thing that took his life.

"It feels... so good."

Slowly, he lifted his skeletal hand, flexing his fingers as he opened and closed them. His new form felt unnatural yet familiar, like something that had always been buried deep within him, waiting to emerge.

But then, a sharp sensation crawled through his body—a dull, aching pain that wouldn't fade.

"But I didn't expect it to hurt this much."

The transformation had been pure agony.

He had felt everything. His body stretching, his muscles tearing apart, his skin melting away. His very bones had twisted and reshaped into something inhuman. It was like being ripped apart and stitched back together into something entirely different.

"Every second was unbearable. It took everything I had not to scream."

He let out a slow, steady breath, his glowing blue eye sockets narrowing.

He had survived—but just barely.

If the monster—the Tentacula Deformia Unoculus—had been any stronger, this wouldn't have worked.

If its flesh had been even slightly tougher, his human teeth would never have pierced its skin.

If that had happened, then—he wouldn't be standing here right now.

He would've simply died.

Like any other ordinary human.

But he had been lucky.

Extremely lucky.

If anyone was wondering how he had turned into a monster—this was the reason.

In this world, having immense negative emotions wasn't the only way for a human to become a monster. There was another method—an even rarer and far more dangerous one.

By consuming a monster's blood.

But the survival rate was almost zero.

99.99% of people who tried would simply die. The transformation process was so violent and unnatural that their bodies would break apart before it could even begin. Their organs would rupture, their cells would mutate uncontrollably, and their entire body would collapse under the strain.

This method was so obscure that it was barely known—even within this world's own stories.

It was only mentioned once in the light novel, tucked away in a side chapter that never made it into the anime or manga.

Before today, only six humans in the entire world had ever survived this process.

Now, there were seven.

And those who had lived through it were called—"Cursed Existences."

Or, as some preferred to say—"Human Monsters."

They were entirely different from Unique Monsters.

While Unique Monsters were born from overwhelming negative emotions, Human Monsters were created through blood and survival.

"Now I have to clean up this entire mess," he said, exhaling as he looked around.

The forest was a mess. Destroyed trees, the burnt remains of the driver, the wrecked car, and the scattered chunks of the Tentacula Deformia Unoculus.

Everything was proof of what had just happened.

And now, he had a bigger problem.

Simply running away was no longer an option.

The difficulty level had just skyrocketed.