Vikram's coughing finally eased, but he was barely hanging on. Every breath hurt. His chest felt like it had been caved in, and his limbs shook like paper in the wind. He was pale, gaunt, and covered in grime. The fight had drained him. What remained was just the shell of a man, held together by will alone.
He slumped against the cave wall, breathing shallowly as his eyes locked onto The Hulk — who was still screaming.
The sound echoed through the cave, bouncing off the stone. The man thrashed like something was clawing at his insides. And Vikram knew that was exactly what was happening.
The thing that had gone inside The Hulk… wasn't normal.
It was the spawn of the Lord of the Desert.
Vikram knew it better than anyone...
He had only been able to keep it hidden thanks to the Head Slave's help — the old man who knew the desert better than anyone. Without him, Vikram's plan would've failed before it began.
Now, inside this quiet cave, that plan was finally working.
Still shaking, Vikram reached into the pouch at his side. His fingers brushed the second packet — the green powder. It pulsed faintly, almost like it was alive. He didn't hesitate. He swallowed it.
This was his second dose. Anymore without rest, and it would start to tear his body apart. But he didn't have a choice.
Warmth surged through him. It wasn't much, but it was enough to breathe again. His ribs still hurt. His body still ached. But now he could stand.
He wiped blood from his mouth and muttered, "It's useless."
The Hulk turned his head, teeth bared in fury. His eyes locked onto Vikram — filled with a hatred so sharp, it was almost physical. The glare alone made Vikram's skin crawl.
Vikram raised both hands, a wry smile coming into his odd face that was one part young as a new born baby, and the other, an old man that seemed to fall at any time.
The Hulk let out a roar and charged like a beast.
But halfway through the lunge, something went wrong.
His body stopped mid-motion. His arms froze. His legs buckled. It was like invisible ropes were tightening around him, forcing his limbs to fold inward.
"HOW?!" the giant roared, trying to fight it. His muscles bulged. His veins pulsed black. But nothing worked. He was stuck — and he was losing.
Vikram watched it all from a safe distance.
He sighed, then turned to rummage near the cave's entrance.
"Why are you still struggling?" Vikram muttered, picking something up. "What don't you get?"
The Hulk growled, veins popping in his neck. "How did you get the Head Slave on your side?!"
Vikram turned back, face half-lit by the sun spilling in behind him, covering his half of baby skin, pronouncing his old withered skin more.
Vikram's smile widened just a little, a faint glint of mockery in his eyes. "Don't ask dumb questions," he said casually. "You know just as well as I do — all that anger toward the Head Slave and his daughter? It was just a show."
The Hulk's breathing grew ragged. "N-No… I saw her face. The rage—"
Vikram cut him off with a soft laugh. "Who said we let the girl in on the plan? Only two people knew — me and the Head Slave. That's all we needed. One good actor to sell the story."
He paused, shaking his head in faint admiration. "Man… that old fox. I didn't expect him to go along with the idea of hurting his own daughter so easily."
The Hulk's eyes twitched. Slowly, realization began to sink in. His fury wavered, giving way to disbelief.
"I… I still don't get it," he muttered. "You didn't have anything on him. Nothing that could force him into—"
"I did, though," Vikram interrupted again, his voice turning sharp, the smile on his lips cold and cutting. "Took some digging. But I figured out where we were headed."
The Hulk's face stiffened.
Vikram's tone dropped even lower, barely above a whisper, but each word carried weight. "You were taking us straight to my father's enemy. And you didn't even bother hiding it."
He stepped forward, gaze unblinking. "You tried to sell me like a coin purse to someone who wants my blood. You really think the Head Slave would side with you after that? I offered him and his daughter freedom. You offered chains."
He gestured toward the cocoon forming around the Hulk's body. "Not hard to guess which offer made more sense."
Indeed, their path led to the stronghold of Vikram's father's greatest enemy. Ramees, ever arrogant, hadn't even bothered to ask where they were going. He thought it didn't matter. But for the Head Slave and his daughter, it was everything.
If Vikram hadn't stepped in, they would've been swallowed whole by fate — one more pair of slaves tossed into the fire. Especially the daughter… her fate would've been crueler.
But Vikram had made an offer.
Freedom. In return for help. A simple deal — and a clear one.
Now, with the Hulk's body cocooned in soft, pulsing flesh, Vikram stared at the result of his gamble. The creature inside was doing its work, burrowing, nesting. The screeches coming from within were sickening.
A chill ran down his spine.
He had kept that parasite in his own body for days. Days. Just the memory of it made his stomach twist. How had he endured it?
The answer was simple: he had no other choice.
It was the Head Slave's alchemy that had made it possible. The black leaves from the desert — strange, cursed things — had kept the creature still, kept it from tearing him apart. But even so, it had drained him, hollowed him out from within. His skin hung loose on his bones. He looked like a dying man.
And maybe he was.
But at least now, it was working.
The Hulk had stopped moving entirely. The cocoon had sealed around him like silk spun by madness itself. Vikram approached, a sharp stone gripped in his only hand.
Through the translucent membrane, he saw the Hulk's eyes — wide, unblinking, filled with helpless dread.
Vikram leaned in, his voice barely audible.
"I'm not that cruel."
Then he swung.
The stone hit with a wet crunch.
A shriek — not human — echoed through the cave, high and piercing, like something unholy being torn from flesh.
And then, silence.