Thud. Thud. Thud.

  Mark’s lungs burned painfully with each breath, feeling like he was inhaling glass shards.

  He clutched Nisha’s body, her weight a heavy burden, her stillness a chilling contrast to the frantic beating of his own heart. He could feel her blood seeping through his shirt. I’m so sorry.

  It was a nightmarish pursuit through the winding tunnels.

  No matter which direction they took or what obstacles they created, the relentless abomination stayed close behind.

  Ria, her face pale, conjured ice barriers behind them, but they shattered like glass under the creature’s relentless assault. Caleb led the way, his muscular legs pumping, breathing heavily. Alex, bringing up the rear, unleashed a stream of spells – anything to slow it down – but no use.

  The creature was right on their tail, its monstrous form shifting and changing as it pursued them with terrifying speed.

  But then, a stroke of luck - the horror’s ungainly form caught on a tumble of fallen masonry, sending it crashing to the ground in a tangle of thrashing limbs.

  Yes!

  They didn’t slow down, didn’t waste a second. They pushed on, their breath ragged, their legs burning, the taste of fear thick in their mouths. But even as they gained ground, a cold dread settled in Mark’s stomach. They were too slow, too exhausted. They’d never make it to the surface at this pace.

  His breath hitched as he made a decision.

  Slowing his pace, he thrust Nisha’s limp form into Alex’s arms. “Take her!”

  “The fuck are you doing?” Alex staggered under the sudden weight.

  “Keep running. I’ll hold it off.”

  Ria skidded to a halt, her breath coming in harsh gasps. “What are you two doing?”

  “Your boyfriend’s gone nuts!”

  Mark met Ria’s gaze steadily. “You guys need to keep moving. I’ll try to delay that thing as long as I can.”

  “See?” Alex said, adjusting his grip on Nisha. “He’s suicidal!”

  “He’s right,” Ria said, her voice surprisingly calm.

  “What? You can’t be ser-”

  “You should go, Alex. Mark and I will hold it off.”

  “Ria… I don’t—”

  “If you think I’m going to leave you here alone, then you’ve truly lost your mind,” she cut him off, voice like flint.

  “Stop being an idiot!” Mark growled through gritted teeth. “Just go!”

  “You first, dumbass!”

  They argued, their voices echoing in the narrow tunnel, the precious seconds ticking away.

  Caleb, came back, wild-eyed and wheezing. “What in the fucking hells are you lot doing just standing around?!”

  The creature’s guttural roar tore through the tunnel, closer now, the sound of its claws scraping against stone a grating reminder of time slipping away.

  It’s now or never. Mark grabbed her shoulders. “Listen to me, Ria. You have to go. You have to get out of here. For me…please.”

  “Not a chance! I’m not leaving you behind! If you think for sec—”

  He pulled her close, his arms wrapping around her in a tight embrace. I love you. And channeled a jolt of lightning through her body.

  “What are—”

  Her protests died on her lips as she slumped against him, unconscious.

  “Caleb, take her.”

  “You didn’t just—”

  “She’s fine,” Mark barked. “Take her. Get her out of here.”

  Caleb stepped forward, heaving her dead weight onto his back in a fireman’s carry. “You’re a goddamned idiot!!!”

  “She’s gonna be wrecking all kinds of hell once she wakes up, you know,” Alex said.

  Mark smiled wryly. “I know…but it’ll be alright.”

  “GGGRRRRUUUMMMM… GGGGRAAAAHHH!”

  A bone-chilling howl echoed from somewhere behind them - the abomination’s mocking cry of hunger.

  He blasted the tunnel ceiling with a torrent of lightning, sending a shower of rocks and debris crashing down, blocking the passage.

  “Now run! And don’t look back!”

  Caleb and Alex hesitated for a heartbeat, then turned and ran, their footsteps fading into the distance.

  He sucked in a deep, steadying breath, willing his racing heart to calm. He cracked his knuckles, his hands sparking, his mind racing. Think, Mark, think! What can you do?

  There needs to be a miracle, a Hail Mary pass, something, anything, to give him an edge. Distraction? Diversion? He knew his chances were slim, practically nonexistent, but he wasn’t going down without a fight. If I can just buy them some time, give Ria a chance to escape…

  The creature emerged from the darkness, its maws snapping, its talons outstretched.

  “SKRREEEEEEEE!!!!”

  An earth-shaking bellow reverberated off the cavern walls, causing loose rocks to tremble and dust to rain down. Bring it on, you ugly motherfucker.

  It came at him like a whirlwind, claws, and fangs bared, crashing against his shield with a force that rattled his very bones. Holy fucking shit.

  He dodged another attack, his enhanced speed barely enough to avoid a talon that would have ripped his head off. He retaliated with a blast of lightning, aiming for one of its eyes, but it twisted its head, the lightning searing its hide, leaving a smoking scorch mark.

  It roared, its fury intensifying, its attacks becoming more frenzied, more unpredictable.

  I need a new strategy. He couldn’t win a straight-up fight, not in his current state.

  He spotted a cluster of stalactites hanging from the ceiling. Perfect. He channeled his lightning, a concentrated blast of energy that shattered one of the stalactites, sending it crashing down toward the creature.

  It dodged, but the falling rock created a momentary distraction. Mark seized the opportunity, summoning twin blades, and lunged, slashing at its exposed flank.

  His blades struck true, ichor spraying as the creature hissed in pain. But instead of retreating, it surged forward, its movements wild and erratic—a storm of claws and snapping maws.

  He slashed, ducked, weaved, his movements a desperate dance of attack and evasion, the cavern echoing with the clang of blades against bone, the sizzle of lightning, the creature’s enraged howls.

  A talon grazed his arm, tearing, leaving a deep gash that burned like fire. He stumbled back, narrowly avoiding a blow that would have crushed his skull. Too close.

  Sweat burned, blurring his sight, but he couldn’t stop. The thing kept coming at him like a wild storm, all teeth and claws. Its attacks were savage, relentless but also… mindless.

  There’s a pattern here. He started to see it, a subtle rhythm to the chaotic movements, a brief window of opportunity after each attack.

  Timing was everything. Too soon, and he’d be caught in the backswing. Too late, and the next attack would land.

  He dodged a swipe, his void blade flashing out, slicing through one of its grotesque limbs, the ichorous ooze spraying across the cavern floor. Yessss!

  His attacks were hitting their mark, but each strike, each block, drained him, the exhaustion a growing weight on his shoulders.

  Just as he started to feel a glimmer of hope, his opponent shifted tactics. Its form blurred, a rippling wave of motion, and then it was on him, a snake-strike of speed and power that shattered his defenses.

  His hastily erected barrier exploded, shards of void energy scattering like broken glass.

  Agony ripped through his side, talons tearing into his flesh, shredding muscle and sinew.

  He was thrown backward, his body impacting the cavern wall, the air whooshing from his lungs.

  Fuck.

  He struggled to his feet, blood pouring, the creature already advancing, its maws dripping with his blood. Shit, shit, shit…

  He unleashed a blast of plasma, a desperate, last-ditch effort, the force of the explosion staggering the creature, buying him a precious few seconds. He pushed himself up, pain lancing through his wounded side.

  I’m bleeding out. He didn’t have the energy to heal, to fight, to even run. At least they got away.

  The thought of Ria being safe gave him a flicker of solace, a small comfort amidst the overwhelming despair.

  The beast lunged, its talons ripping through his stomach with sickening ease.

  He looked down, his eyes widening, as claws burst from his back, a spray of blood and gore erupting from the wound.

  Mark’s mouth opened in a soundless cry as shock washed over him. His knees buckled, the world spinning wildly.

  I…wasn’t…enough…

  Then, nothing.

  * * *

  Darkness swallowed him whole.

  If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

  ▓▓▓▓▓▓—▓—▓▓▓▓▓□——■■■■■——□□——■■■■■——□—▓▓▓▓▓

  A faint resonant hum filled his ears—familiar, otherworldly.

  Am I dead?

  Where the heck…? He blinked, the decaying grandeur of the mansion’s foyer coming into focus.

  Not this shithole again. He lay there for a moment, the silence pressing down on him. His thoughts sluggish and his limbs just wouldn’t cooperate.

  He felt… weird. Disconnected.

  Like he was watching himself from outside his body. Pushing himself up, he was surprised to find himself completely healed with no trace of the wounds from his fight. What the fuck?

  Suddenly, a figure materialized a few feet away, near the bottom of the grand staircase.

  Mark jumped. “What the fu-”

  It appeared out of thin air as if stepping out of a ripple in the fabric of reality.

  The figure was humanoid, tall, slender, with two arms, two legs, a head… but no features. No eyes, no nose, no mouth. Just a smooth, blank surface. What the hell is that?

  It glided towards him – no, it was levitating, its feet not touching the ground – and stopped a few inches away, its presence unsettling, its blank face… staring? It was impossible to tell.

  A deep, resonant voice cut through the quiet foyer, sending shivers down spines.

  “Whyy did you save her?”

  “Save who?” He frowned, his mind still struggling to catch up.

  A flash of memory – the supermarket, the masked robbers, the terrified cashier, her name tag reading ‘Sally.’

  “Whyy did you save her?”

  “I was there. She was in trouble. I helped,” he shrugged, the memory strangely distant, the emotions detached.

  The figure tilted its head, its lack of features somehow making the gesture even more unsettling.

  “And her?”

  Another memory surfaced – the cold night, the warehouse, the unconscious woman, the men surrounding her, their intentions clear.

  “You didn’t even know her name.”

  “It was the right thing to… do, I guess.”

  It wasn’t a conscious decision, not a calculated act. It was simply… instinct. Why wouldn’t I help her?

  “How do you know she deserved to be saved? What if she was a murderer? A thief? You knew nothing about her, and yet you risked your life for hers.”

  “I guess… But in that moment, it felt right. You can’t always know the whole story, right? You just have to go with your gut. Do what you think is best, based on what you see, what you feel.”

  “But whyy? Whyy risk your life for a stranger? What compelled you to act?”

  Why? Mark racked his brain. He’d never really thought about it, never analyzed his reasons. He wasn’t exactly the introspective type. He just… did things. He acted on instinct, on impulse, rarely questioning his motivations.

  “I-I don’t know… It wasn’t like some… noble, selfless act. If I’m being honest, I did it for myself. I couldn’t have lived with myself if I’d just stood there and watched. It was… selfish, I guess. A selfish need to be guilt free. My own conscience, my own… sense of right and wrong, wouldn’t let me do anything else.”

  The figure didn’t respond, its blank face tilted slightly as if considering his words.

  The silence stretched, broken only by the sound of Mark’s own breathing, the steady thump of his heart against his ribs. He waited, unsure what to do, what to say.

  “Good enough to act but not good enough to stand by your actions. You’re not there yet.”

  “Not there yet? What the hell does that even mean?”

  “Yet, there is no time,” the figure continued, ignoring his question. “The balance shifts. The dyad is broken for too long.”

  “Dyad?”

  What the hell is this thing talking about? This cryptic bullshit was giving him a headache.

  “Rak’na gath… suhr’kanti…”

  It began chanting in an alien tongue, guttural syllables grating against his ears.

  A searing pain erupted on his chest, forcing him to look down. Holy shit. The talisman was glowing, pulsating with a fiery red light, the metal heating up, burning through his shirt, searing his skin.

  “What the…” he gasped, trying to rip it off, but the figure’s hand clamped down on his, its grip surprisingly strong.

  “Let go!” Mark yelled, struggling against its hold, the pain intensifying, the heat unbearable. “Get the fuck off me!”

  The figure ignored his protests, its chanting growing louder, the strange words echoing in the room, the air around them crackling with a dark energy.

  “AAAAAGGHHHHH!”

  The talisman burned hotter, searing his flesh, the pain so intense it made his vision blur, his head spin. It’s melting my skin!

  “Your time is not yet come…” a disembodied voice slithered into his consciousness, layered and distorted.

  “There are debts to be paid.”

  Another chimed in, guttural and harsh. “The path before you remains unwalked…”

  “The balance must be restored.”

  “Claim your birthright.”

  The voices multiplied in a dissonant chorus, each adding its own riddle-shrouded phrase.

  “Embrace the duality!”

  “Kill the pretender.”

  “Only then will you be free.”

  “Only then will you leave this pantheon.”

  The voices wouldn’t shut up, like a swarm of bees buzzing in his head. They kept nagging, driving him crazy.

  He thrashed, his body convulsing against the agonizing burn of the talisman. It felt like he was being grilled alive, the pain so intense it was all he could focus on.

  Images, fragmented and terrifying, flickered through his mind - twisted landscapes, crumbling cities, cyclopean ruins reaching towards a sky that bled crimson, a recurring symbol - a sigil of impossible geometries burned itself into his memory.

  Then, silence.

  Voices faded, the searing heat of the talisman cooling to a dull throb.

  The figure released its vice-like grip and drifted away, leaving him to crumple to the floor in a boneless heap, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

  He looked at his chest, the skin seared, the flesh puckered, but the talisman was gone. Did it… go inside me?

  And then the world began to dissolve, the mansion’s familiar decay melting away like smoke, the walls shimmering, the floor rippling, the shadows deepening, swallowing him whole. What the fuck?

  This dream, this place, it was messing with his head. He squeezed his eyes shut, but the dizzying sensation of falling, of being pulled apart, continued, his stomach churning, his senses overloaded.

  When he opened his eyes, he found himself back in the cavern, staring at the darkness above, the stench of blood still thick in the air.

  His gaze swept over his once-punctured flesh, now pristine and flawless, devoid of any trace of injury. But the talisman… where…

  “GRAAAHHH… GURRRRMMM!”

  A roar echoed through the cavern, snapping him back to the present.

  The abomination battered furiously against the blockage, raining down fist-sized chunks of stone as it sought to break through.

  It seemed to sense his presence, those dead, pitiless eyes swiveling to meet his with alarming swiftness.

  “RRRUUUMMM… GGGGRRAAAAAAGH!”

  A keening shriek tore from its trio of fanged maws as it launched itself forward in a thunderous charge.

  Instinctively, Mark raised his hands, unleashing a torrent of lightning.

  The powerful blast hit it right in the center, causing a loud explosion. One moment the monster was before him, the next it was hurled back, crashing into a pile of rubble with such force that it shook the cavern.

  Dust and pebbles fell in the sudden silence.

  Mark stared at his outstretched palms, heart thundering in his ears.

  Holy shit, when did my output increase this much?

  The sheer force he’d unleashed was staggering, far beyond anything he’d ever manifested before. Yet the exertion didn’t leave him drained or depleted…quite the opposite.

  A pleasant tingling sensation spread through his body, a rush of adrenaline that made his heart pound, his senses sharpen. It was exhilarating. He felt… This is fucking awesome!

  “You like that, bitch?” he sneered, staring down at the creature as it struggled to its feet.

  He felt no fear, no doubt, no hesitation—just a pure, unadulterated sense of strength.

  The creature roared, scooping up a chunk of debris and hurling it at him. He flicked his wrist, and the projectile disintegrated mid-air, a puff of dust the only evidence of its existence.

  “Is that all you got, you ugly fuck?”

  It lunged, a blur of teeth, claws, and that disgusting, roiling flesh.

  Mark dodged the initial attacks, his movements effortless, almost bored. He caught the next strike, his hand closing around one of its thick talons.

  The talon strained against his grip, ichor dripping from its sharpened edges. Weak.

  He twisted the talon, a sharp cracking sound echoing in the cavern as the creature howled. He yanked, pulling the creature off balance, then slammed his fist into its nearest maw, the impact reverberating through his arm.

  “Not so tough now, are you?”

  The creature staggered back, its fanged jaws snapping, its other talons lashing out, but Mark was too quick. He dodged another blow, blade materializing in his hand, a whisper of violent energy.

  He danced around another swipe, blade flashing out, not to kill, but to maim, to disable. With each strike, he took away a limb, a claw, reveling in the beast’s screams of agony and fury. That’s more like it.

  He pressed his attack, his movements fluid, precise, his earlier hesitation replaced by a cold, predatory focus. He was enjoying this, the thrill of the fight, the power surging through his veins like a river of liquid fire, the creature’s desperate struggles to defend itself.

  Mark kicked the creature’s mangled leg, sending it skidding across the rough surface, then unleashed a surge of lightning, the force of the impact flung it backward, limbs splayed in a tangled heap.

  He was on it in a flash, his boot slamming down on its head, pinning it to the ground. Gotcha.

  “Any last words?”

  Lightning crackled from his fingertips, raw energy tearing into the creature’s torso, flesh burning, viscera flying. The creature shrieked, its body convulsing, but Mark didn’t stop.

  He unleashed a point-blank blast, the force of it tearing a chunk from the creature’s body, the stench of burning flesh filling the air.

  This is for Nisha. He cranked up the power, blast after blast of pure, unadulterated energy ripping through the creature’s flesh, each hit more brutal than the last.

  “SKREEEEE! GRAGH! GAAAAARGH!”

  The cavern reverberated with its howls of agony, the sound a twisted symphony of pain and destruction.

  “KRRRRRRRRGH… HHRRRRNNNN… GGRRRGH…”

  Again and again, he unleashed his wrath, each detonation chewing away more of the abomination’s grotesque form in showers of flesh and cauterized bone.

  Each blast shook the air, ruthlessly shredding and burning everything. By the time he was done, only a mangled wreck of twitching limbs and blackened bits.

  He stared down at the ruined form, a deep satisfaction settling in his gut. That’s what you get. It felt good, savagely good, to unleash his rage, to inflict pain. It was like scratching an itch he didn’t know he had, this raw need to let loose.

  He hadn’t realized how much he’d been craving this… this release, this… feeling.

  But it wasn’t enough. I need more.

  Extending his palm, tendrils of pitch-black flames sparked to life, writhing and twisting in an unsettling dance of utter negation.

  “Try regenerating now.”

  He dropped the flames onto the creature’s remains, the black fire consuming the flesh, the bones, everything.

  As smoke filled the air and the smell of charred remains lingered, Mark watched with a grim smile of satisfaction. He didn’t extinguish the flames until the last fragment of the creature had turned to ash until there was nothing left but a dark stain on the cavern floor and the lingering scent of death. That’s how it’s done.

  He stood there, breathing hard, the echoes of the creature’s death throes still ringing in his ears, a savage grin twisting his lips. Damn, that felt good.

  It wasn’t just the rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins or the sweet taste of victory on his lips. It was a primal surge, a raw explosion of power that electrified every fiber of his being.

  Freedom coursed through him, breaking the chains of restraint.

  A primal craving surged within, a fierce hunger for… more. Energy pulsed through his blood, potent and dark, tempting him with all kinds of dangerous delights he couldn’t help but be drawn to.

  More power. More control. More… everything. He itched to wreck, to break, to own, to etch his mark on this world, a scar that would never heal. This is what it means to be alive. I’ll…

  ■■■■——□□—■■■■—□—▓▓▓▓

  A sudden, searing pain ripped through his skull, shattering the euphoria, the illusion of control.

  “AARRGGHHHHHH!”

  It felt like his brain was exploding, his skull too small to contain the pressure. He thrashed, his muscles contorting uncontrollably, his vision blurring, the world around him melted into a chaotic kaleidoscope of light and shadow.

  Rolling on the ground, he went at his scalp like a man possessed, nails raking over his skin as if trying to rip the agony right out of his head.

  “AAAAAAHHHHH STOPPPPPPP—PLEASE—STOOOOOOP!”

  All of a sudden, he puked, his body jerking with spasms, the sour bile taste scorching his throat.

  Then, just as suddenly as it began, the pain receded, leaving behind a dull ache, a buzzing in his ears, and a sick feeling in his gut. He lay there, gasping for breath, his body slick with sweat, his mind a shattered mess. What the FUCK?

  The quiet of the cavern seemed to press down on him, the silence amplified, distorted, every drip of water, every rustle of air, a deafening roar in his ears. His vision swam, unable to focus, the shadows flickering, the walls seeming to breathe, to pulse with a life of their own. I’m losing it.

  He stared at the pile of ash where the creature had been moments before, the black flames still licking at the edges of the stain. What are those flames? How did I…?

  The memory slipped through his fingers like sand, leaving his mind in a foggy daze, like trying to recall a half-remembered dream. His heart hammered, lungs screaming for air, and his body trembled with a strange mix of fatigue and a lingering sense of… wrongness. Something’s not right.

  Shaking his head vigorously, he tried to shake loose the lingering images and creeping whispers of insanity, but they clung stubbornly to him, refusing to let go.

  What is this? What the fuck is happening?

  First, the thing at mansion, then the visions, and the excruciating pain that nearly broke his mind…..…it was becoming too much.

  A faint scuffling whispered through the space, barely audible over the pounding of his pulse. He whipped his head, vision still swimming in a dizzying blur.

  Something…no, someone was there, wavering in and out of focus amid the mental fog.

  Mark struggled to focus his eyes, all the while trying to see through all the weird, wavy images that clouded his perception. Then, all of a sudden, a shape he knew all too well stepped into view.

  Elia.

  It was that twisted bastard who’d brought them here.

  Just the sight of him, ignited a spark of anger, a flicker of the primal rage that had consumed him moments before. His mind narrowed by a singular, predatory focus, the whispers of madness returning.

  He pushed himself to his feet, his legs shaky, his body still weak from the aftershocks of… whatever the hell had just happened.

  Elia stumbled back, his eyes wide with fear, and then he turned and ran, disappearing into the maze of tunnels.

  “Get back here, bastard!”

  Channeling what remained of his waning strength, Mark followed the hunter’s retreating form deeper into dark caverns.