For years, I’ve warned about the strange mutations lurking beneath our cities. The sewers, packed with chemical runoff, discarded pharmaceuticals, and now—thanks to the greed of megacorporations—residual arcane energy, have become the perfect breeding ground for creatures beyond natural comprehension. I’ve heard whispers, collected fragmented stories, but no one ever took them seriously. I never had undeniable proof.
Until now.
Last night, under the dim glow of flickering streetlights, three enormous rats—far larger than any rodent should be—emerged from the shadows and raced across a quiet intersection, witnessed by multiple bystanders. But these weren’t ordinary rats. They didn’t scurry low to the ground like the vermin we’ve been conditioned to ignore. No—these creatures ran upright, balanced eerily on their hind legs, moving with terrifying coordination. And their eyes glowed faintly—sigils flickering beneath their matted fur, pulsating like embers in the dark.
The city can dismiss it as hysteria all they want, but here’s where it gets worse: one of the rats was struck by a car. And for a moment, I thought we’d finally have a body—physical proof of what’s been happening beneath us all along. But instead of lying lifeless on the pavement like any ordinary animal, the other two rats helped it up. That’s right. They surrounded it, pressed their claws to its chest, and the wound healed before our eyes. The glyphs etched into their flesh pulsed, and the injured rat rose, dazed but alive.
This behavior defies everything we’ve assumed about rats. Helping each other? Working in coordinated escape? Using magic to repair their wounds? This is not mindless animal instinct. This is something more. Something organized. Something terrifyingly aware.
This isn’t the first incident. Reports from sewage workers have detailed strange blue-green flickering in the tunnels beneath the city. Arcane residue leaking into the water, pooling in forgotten places, saturating the creatures that live there. The corporations told us their fusion of magic and technology would lead to innovation, but did anyone think about what happens to the failures? Where do the discarded experiments go? They don’t just vanish—they seep into our world, infecting everything they touch.
It’s time to ask the hard questions. How deep has this corruption spread? What EXPERIMENTS have taken place under the cover of darkness? What abominations are festering beneath us, hidden by corporate lies and bureaucratic silence?
And more importantly—how long have these rats been watching us?
Because make no mistake: they aren’t just scavenging for scraps anymore. They are evolving. They are learning. They are adapting to the fusion of magic and industry, bending it in ways we don’t understand.
The city won’t acknowledge it. The officials will ignore it. The corporations will bury it.
But I will not be silenced.
The rats have changed. And they are not done yet.