Vikram's thoughts swirled in the chaos, his mind barely keeping pace with the madness unraveling before his eyes. The Hulk — that mountain of muscle and rage — looked like a battered war dog next to the towering black golem. The thing wasn't just tall; it loomed, its sand-like body rippling with impossible density. Each step cracked the ground, every movement a miniature earthquake.
Fists flew like thunderbolts. Flesh clashed against sand turned steel. It was raw, violent — but flesh was losing.
A brutal slam to the head sent The Hulk staggering. He paused, dazed for a breath. When his senses returned, he resumed the assault — but not before his eyes flicked toward Vikram.
That half-second glance was all Vikram needed.
Heart pounding, lungs screaming, he charged. No hesitation. The golem's golden gaze pinned him like a dagger in the chest, but he didn't stop. Couldn't.
He wasn't just trying to help — this was it. His chance to matter.
The Hulk saw him. His body tensed, muscles like coiled ropes of iron. He roared and drove his fist into the golem's chest. A deafening crack echoed as sand and force collided, leaving a deep fissure behind.
Vikram didn't wait. He leapt.
He clambered up the golem's leg, fingers scrabbling at cracks, legs burning. Another blow from The Hulk widened the gap in its abdomen. Vikram reached for it, one hand sinking into the fractured shell, the other scrabbling for grip.
With a snarl, he punched through. Heat blasted his skin — molten, searing. The stench of scorched flesh filled his nose. Still, he pushed in deeper. His fingers found something — pulsating, alive.
The core.
The golem's arm lashed out.
He twisted, barely dodging as its claws scraped past him, pulverizing the air where he'd just been. He didn't stop. His hands locked around the core. Every fiber in his body screamed as he pulled.
The golem thrashed. The Hulk held it down.
And Vikram ripped.
A final heave. A scream that wasn't his, or maybe it was — and then the core came loose in a burst of light and ash. He hurled it away.
[You have felled a Great Enemy: The Great Tide.][Please obtain the Cubes within the body of the Dimensional Being.][You have received a Soul Memoir: Golden Flame.][Your attribute {Broken Fate} revokes Soul Memoirs.][Your Soul Memoir: Golden Flame has been destroyed.]
Victory. And yet...
His hand. Ash. Gone.
Vikram was swatted back, chest heaving, blood thudding in his ears. The fight behind him raged on — The Hulk and the golem still locked in a death dance of blows that shook the desert.
But he couldn't take another step in that chaos.
He turned and ran.
The cave was ahead — a yawning mouth of shadow. Safety, maybe. He collapsed just past the entrance, back pressed to the cool stone. It was dark. Too quiet. And it wasn't safe.
Something... wrong lingered in the air. Like rot and whispers. A pressure behind his eyes. It told him to hurt. Himself. Others.
He ignored it. Shoved the thoughts aside.
With shaking fingers, Vikram opened the Head Slave's pouch. Two powders. One a murky yellow, like turmeric gone bad. The other, a glowing green, almost alive.
His body screamed for the green. Every instinct told him to eat it. But instincts lied.
He swallowed the yellow one.
The taste was worse than sewage — bitter, vile, like death fermented — and within seconds he was coughing hard enough to make stars dance in his vision. He bent double, gasping for breath, lungs refusing to cooperate.
And that's when the shadow appeared behind him.
Vikram turned, still coughing. He saw the figure and gave a weak smile. "Looks like you had a rough time, huh?"
The Hulk didn't smile. His eyes burned holes through Vikram's skull. He stepped forward, grabbed Vikram like a ragdoll and lifted him.
Just like Vikram had lifted the Head Slave's daughter.
"Karma, huh," The Hulk growled. The voice was low and heavy — like mountains grinding together.
Vikram chuckled, even as more blood spilled from his mouth. His grin split into a red mess of teeth and gore. "Nice... to see you when you're the one all busted up."
The Hulk's grip tightened. Vikram choked. His feet kicked uselessly in the air.
"I'd ask your last wish," the giant muttered. "But trash like you doesn't deserve one."
Vikram's mouth moved — no sound. The Hulk raised a brow, loosening his grip a hair.
"Karma's... a real bitch,"
And then it happened.
His jaw dropped wide — wider than it should have — and something leapt out from behind his teeth. A flicker of sickly light, like liquid shadow with eyes. It darted from his mouth and slammed into The Hulk's face.
The giant jerked back with a roar. His body arched violently. For a second, he stood frozen — then spasmed as if electrocuted.
The Hulk screamed.
He thrashed, clawing at his chest, at his face, trying to rip something out. His eyes rolled white, foam spilling from his lips. He lunged — and slammed face-first into the ground.
He tried to rise. Couldn't.
Vikram collapsed too, hacking up bile and blood, his body a ruin — but his eyes were wide with disbelief. Horror. Awe.
Something inside him... was gone.
And something inside The Hulk... was still fighting to stay in.
Vikram crawled to where he'd stashed the pouch. Grabbed the green concoction. Downed it.
Life surged through him like wildfire. His limbs tightened, bones realigning with grotesque cracks, torn flesh knitting together in pulses of emerald light. His scream was half agony, half relief.
Behind him, The Hulk screamed.
He thrashed, clawing at his chest, trying to rip something out. The moment Vikram's blood had splattered his face, the change had started. Whatever the yellow powder hadn't done to him, it had sure as hell done something to The Hulk.
The man's eyes rolled wild, foam at his mouth. He lunged — and slammed into the ground.
He tried to rise. Couldn't.
Vikram watched, gasping for breath, body still broken — but eyes wide with disbelief.
It worked.
Holy shit.
It actually worked.