Xin tumbled through the pulsing, fleshy tube, his body contorted, pushed and pulled by the constricting walls. His skin burned with a searing pain that felt like it was peeling off from the inside. The thick, acrid stench of bile choked his senses, making it almost impossible to breathe.
Every passing moment felt like an eternity, the acidic fluids seeping into every pore and gnawing at his flesh, biting deep with every twist and turn of the monstrous creature's body. His muscles screamed as he fought against the current, pushing forward with all the strength he could muster. But the walls only tightened around him, an unrelenting grip that threatened to crush him.
His hand reached for the spear strapped to his back. With a strained grunt, he pulled it free and thrust it toward the creature's internal walls.
But it was futile.
The weapon slid harmlessly along the slick, muscular surface, scraping uselessly as the beast's body continued to churn. Nothing—no force in the world seemed to have any effect on this beast's indestructible insides. The walls of the serpent writhed, pulling him deeper into its stomach, dragging him into the gut of whatever nightmare it had become. He could feel the suffocating weight of helplessness pressing in on him, threatening to swallow his resolve whole.
But Xin refused to break. He wouldn't let fear take over, not here, not when everything depended on him. He gritted his teeth, pushing his body against the unnatural resistance, his mind swirling with the knowledge that his goal was so close. He couldn't afford to lose his composure now—not when Raven was so near, not when everything hinged on that damn golden disk.
A flicker of light caught his attention through the suffocating darkness. It shone ahead, cutting through the blackness. The golden disk. His heart pounded as the flickering light grew brighter, closer. Raven was ahead—he had to be. He had to stay focused. There was no room for distractions now.
But then, the beast spasmed. The serpent convulsed violently, thrashing in its death throes, and Xin was forced to brace himself against the crushing pressure of its body, struggling not to lose himself in the chaos of its movements. His body was battered, his limbs weak from the strain, but he kept pushing forward. Time was running out.
And then, with one final heave, the creature expelled him. Xin was thrust into the open with the force of a sudden ejection. The air was knocked from his lungs as he collided with something hard. He tumbled, landing with a sickening thud on something that squelched beneath him. His boots sank into the substance below him, and the nauseating realization hit him before he could fully process it: he was standing on the half-digested remains of some other poor creature. Its rotting flesh clung to him like the remnants of a nightmare, the foul stench of decay filling his nose.
He staggered to his feet, shaking off the dizziness that threatened to overwhelm him. His gaze snapped to the figure standing ahead. Raven.
But something was wrong.
Raven was there, but he was no longer the man Xin knew. His posture was off, erratic, twitching in a way that was wrong—unnatural. He stood in front of the golden disk, guarding it, but the raven-haired warrior wasn't acting like himself. Gone was the disciplined grace, the purposeful movements, the calculated strikes. In its place was something more primal, savage, almost animalistic.
Xin's stomach churned as the horrifying realization began to sink in. This wasn't Raven—not anymore. His body trembled, his gauntlets curled in jerky motions, lashing out with claws instead of the controlled strikes that Xin had come to know. His movements were uncoordinated, as though he were being controlled by something else, something far darker than anything Xin had ever encountered.
A puppet.
Raven wasn't in control of his own body. His mind had been erased, replaced with something far worse. The golden disk wasn't just manipulating his thoughts—it had bypassed his mind entirely, reducing the once-proud warrior to a mindless vessel of instinct and rage. A chill crept up Xin's spine as the grim reality of his situation sank in. He had to stop him—he had to save Raven, but how?
A sharp, jarring motion broke his thoughts, and in an instant, Raven was on the attack. The strike was blindingly fast, a blur of gauntleted claws aimed directly at Xin's throat. Reflexes kicked in, and Xin ducked just in time, the air crackling as the claws swiped through the space where his head had been. His heart raced, adrenaline pumping through his veins as his mind scrambled to make sense of the situation. This wasn't a battle against a friend or a rival—this was a fight for survival. And there was no hesitation in Raven's movements. No hesitation, no mercy. Just pure, unfiltered instinct.
The next strike came just as quickly, and Xin barely managed to block it, crossing his forearms to absorb the brutal force. Pain exploded through his bones, the shockwave from the blow rattling his teeth. He staggered back, slipping on the slick, rotting ground beneath him. The stench was unbearable, but there was no time to think about it. Every instinct screamed at him to survive, to find a way out of this madness.
His eyes scanned the ground, spotting his spear. So close.
Raven lunged again, but this time, Xin was ready. He twisted and rolled, narrowly avoiding a fatal blow. He surged forward, his legs burning, desperation fueling every move. His fingers brushed the cool crystalline shaft of his spear. With a burst of strength, he seized it, turning as Raven's attack came crashing down. Xin spun, driving the spear forward with all his might.
The tip pierced flesh.
For a brief moment, Raven's movements faltered. His breath hitched, and his body jerked, as if something had broken through the veil that controlled him. A flicker of recognition—of pain—crossed his features. But it was fleeting, gone almost as quickly as it had appeared. Raven staggered back, still standing, still moving with the same brutal, relentless force.
Xin froze, the nauseating reality sinking in. He hadn't wanted this. He hadn't wanted to hurt Raven. But it had been the only choice.
And yet—
Raven was still standing.
The wound barely slowed Raven. His body trembled, spasming violently as if fighting against unseen strings, his muscles twitching uncontrollably. His eyes—those once-lively eyes that had seen the horrors of battle—were now empty, vacant. There was nothing left of the man Xin had once called a comrade, a friend. Just an empty shell, a body enslaved to something far worse than any beast.
A snarl tore from Raven's throat as he lunged again, his gauntleted claws slashing through the air with inhuman speed. Xin barely deflected the strike, the sharp edge of his spear clashing against Raven's armor with a shower of sparks. The impact sent a violent shock through his arms, almost wrenching the weapon from his grasp.
Pain shot through his ribs as another hit connected. Xin gasped, the air forced from his lungs, and he stumbled backward, his boots slipping on the slick, rotting ground. Desperation flooded his senses. He thrust the spear forward again, hoping to keep Raven at bay, but the attack had no effect. Raven didn't slow. He didn't even seem to notice.
This wasn't a fight anymore. This was survival.
Raven's movements were mechanical, like the strikes of a monster, devoid of thought or hesitation. There was no grace, no deliberate strategy. Just raw, unfiltered aggression. Each movement came faster, harder, fueled by nothing but the primal instinct to destroy.
Another swipe came, and Xin felt the sharp sting of claws raking across his cheek, blood trickling down his face. He barely had time to register the pain before Raven was on him again, his fists hammering down like a relentless executioner. Xin's arms shook under the force of the blows, his spear barely managing to block another crushing attack.
In that moment, every part of Xin's body screamed for relief, but there was no time to think about it. No time to falter.
He acted on pure instinct.
With a roar, he drove his spear forward, aiming not at Raven's body, but at the armor plating over his shoulder. The crystalline tip of the spear punched through the metal with a sickening crack. For a split second, Raven's movements halted, the impact locking his body in place.
Their gaze met.
There was a flicker. A brief moment where something behind Raven's empty stare seemed to flicker—an emotion? Pain? A fleeting sign of awareness? Xin couldn't tell. It was too brief, too far gone.
But it was enough to send a pang of guilt through Xin's chest. He didn't want this. He didn't want to hurt Raven, not like this. Raven was still in there somewhere—lost, but still there. But as Raven twisted and snarled, pulling against the spear with inhuman force, Xin knew the truth.
If he didn't stop him now, if he didn't end this, Raven would tear him apart.
His mind raced, his heart pounding in his ears. There was no way out—no way to break the spell, no way to reason with a mindless monster.
Then, his eyes flicked to the center of the battlefield, where the golden disk still hovered, casting its unnatural glow across the wreckage. It was the source. The key to everything. The thing controlling Raven.
The thing behind all of this mess,
If he could just reach it…
His last chance, his only chance, was that disk. The weapon that had turned his friend into a puppet. If he could destroy it, maybe, just maybe, he could save Raven before it was too late.
Maybe you could just end your miserable life trying