"LET ME GO, LET ME GO, LET ME GO ALREADY!"
(Etelgan screamed in desperation.)
Etelgan felt his organs slowly melting, one by one, inside him. The pain was unbearable, as if something was burning every fiber of his being. His insides burned with unimaginable intensity, and his blood, like boiling lava, coursed through his veins, overwhelming his body. The infernal heat emanating from Morgan didn't just burn him—it consumed him, destroyed him.
The torture seemed endless. When Etelgan extended one of his arms to try using his power, he saw how Morgan's tail moved dangerously, like an animal stalking its prey. In the blink of an eye, the tail's stinger brutally pierced his hand, a violent impact that ripped a scream of terror from him, pure agony, a scream that resonated deep inside him, echoing in his soul.
Morgan withdrew his tail, leaving the stinger embedded in Etelgan's hand, but with wide, horrified eyes, Etelgan watched as Morgan's tail grotesquely split in two, as if he were some inhuman creature. The stinger remained lodged in his arm, but that wasn't all. The pain, the suffering—it wasn't enough. Etelgan tried to smile, seeking some solace in the hope that this would set him free. But when he saw Morgan's face, his smile froze. There was no trace of suffering in his expression. Only indifference, coldness. When he looked down, his face paled even more as he saw that Morgan's tail had already fully regenerated, a new stinger in place, ready to kill.
Etelgan, on the brink of despair, raised his head to the sky and let out one final, harrowing scream that echoed throughout the forest—a scream that conveyed all the anguish of his being. Morgan finally released him, letting his body fall heavily to the ground. But Etelgan was no longer alive. Pink and red fluids oozed from his body, a gruesome display of his melted organs. His face, a mixture of despair, helplessness, and horror, reflected the end of his torment.
Morgan slowly turned his head toward Iliana, who watched the scene with a horrified, shattered expression. But in his unconscious state, Morgan completely ignored her and instead focused his gaze on Adam and Ariel. Seeing that both were gravely wounded, he calmly approached, step by step, until he stood before them. Adam lay unconscious, his life hanging by a thread.
Ariel, her face pale, lifted her gaze while holding her husband in her arms. Her voice trembled, and with fear, she spoke.
"S-s-stay back, monster..."
Morgan, showing not a trace of emotion, observed them both carefully and, with a cold voice, continued:
"Aztlan, seventh representation, molluscoid branch, lord of the sacred ether, specimen number 4, Cornu aspersum."
At that moment, Morgan's body began to transform once more. A spiral shell appeared on his back, his hands softened, and his tail expanded, dominating the air. Two antennae sprouted from his head, and his skin became coated in a pink slime.
Without saying a word, he wrapped Adam and Ariel in his arms and tail, covering them with the pink slime seeping from his body. Ariel, confused, barely able to comprehend what was happening, asked between sobs:
"W-what are you doing?"
Her doubt vanished quickly as she began to feel her wounds—and Adam's—starting to heal. The scars disappeared, the injuries closed as if they had never existed.
"What is this? How are you doing this?"
(Ariel asked, completely shocked.)
Morgan finished healing them, his slime covering them entirely, sealing their wounds. He observed them with indifference, assessing their condition. When he was sure they were better, he spoke once more, his voice cold, devoid of all emotion:
"The trial period is over. Animal instinct completed."
With those words, Morgan collapsed, falling to the ground. His mind shut down, plunging him into deep darkness. But not for long. Different images began to flow in his head, as if his consciousness was slowly returning. Morgan blinked and saw himself standing, holding someone's hand. That person held him firmly while walking ahead of him. He tried to see their face, but something dark—black and white scribbles—covered it, preventing him from recognizing them. He could only see their long, straight, jet-black hair.
He felt at peace, as if he were in a state of absolute calm, guided by that mysterious figure. He decided to follow, without question. But then, the scene changed again. Now, they were in a park, beneath a tree. Face to face. Holding hands. She had taken both of Morgan's hands, but, just like before, the scribbles obscured her face. They began spinning in circles, holding onto each other's hands.
Morgan couldn't help but smile. This feeling, this connection, felt so familiar, as if he had experienced it before, though he couldn't remember when or where. Everything felt so perfect, so serene. But suddenly, the scene faded into shades of gray. Morgan lowered his gaze and, with horror, saw an immeasurable amount of blood flowing from the girl's wrists, staining the ground red. With a start, he let go of her hands quickly, and as fast as he did, he woke up.
Morgan awoke in a panic, his heart pounding as if it were about to explode in his chest. He gasped for air, sweat dripping down his forehead as he breathed heavily.
"Are you okay?"
(Iliana asked, concerned.)
Iliana had laid him on her lap so he could rest, but she was startled to see him wake up like that, as if he had just had the worst nightmare of all.
"Y-yeah... it was just a nightmare."
(Morgan said, running his hands over his face.)
Morgan sighed, wiping the sweat from his face.
"Just a nightmare..."
End of Chapter.
Next Chapter: The Cruelty of the New World.
Thank you for reading this chapter! Sorry for not updating this week—I was a bit sick, but I just recovered, so I'll be posting regularly again. Don't forget to follow me on Instagram @mr.nigth12 where I share more updates and details about the story. See you in the next chapter!