Welcome, curious soul, to the shadowed streets of London, a city choked with fog and oil, where gas lamps flicker against walls slick with rain and something far older than humanity stirs beneath the cobblestones. I am Aryn Bats, your guide through a tale of flesh, steel, and madness, where science and horror entwine like gears in a cruel machine. In this book, you will meet a man, Dr. Jekyll, whose brilliance has fractured his very being, giving birth to a creature of nightmare, Hyde. But do not mistake this for a tale of duality and morality. Here, the serum does not simply transform. It tears, it rips, it revels in the destruction of bone, sinew, and mind.

Hyde stalks the alleys, preys on the innocent, and turns London itself into a carnival of terror. You will watch, helpless and enthralled, as bodies are carved into grotesque art, organs reassembled like clockwork, and a black airship glides silently over the rooftops, dispensing horror from the sky. You will follow detectives chasing leads that twist and betray them, and scientists who offer nothing but riddles, their logic as sharp and cold as the instruments of death they wield.

This is a story of obsession, ecstasy in atrocity, and a city unraveling under a tide of black fog and dripping serum. Listen closely. Watch carefully. The monster is not only in the shadows, it is inside this book, in the whispers between the words, in the pulse of your own fear. If you dare, press play. Witness the grotesque unfold. Revel in the darkness. And when you have finished, when the last rib has been sharpened, the last scream echoed into the fog, I hope you will not only have survived the tale but feel compelled to speak of it, to share it, to return to it again and again. Step forward. The streets await. Hyde waits, and soon another will feast next to them.