Aden's body was falling apart. The gladiator's strikes were relentless, and the temple's traps—every mechanism, every shifting wall—were closing in around him. He could feel his strength draining, his thoughts becoming more scattered. The environment itself felt alive, as if it were pushing him into a corner, forcing him to fight for survival in ways he had never imagined.
The gladiator lunged again, and Aden barely managed to dodge, but his movements were slower, more sluggish than before. His body screamed in pain. His muscles burned. His lungs felt like they were on fire. He couldn't keep up.
His vision blurred for a second, and that's when he heard it—the whisper of the mask. It had always been there, in the background, but now it was louder, insistent.
"You are weak, Aden. You can't win like this. Surrender. Embrace the power. All you have to do is accept it. I can make you invincible."
The voice was soothing, offering something Aden had never been able to grasp before: control. True control. It promised an end to the pain, the struggle, the endless fight. All he had to do was let go.
Aden shook his head, trying to clear the fog in his mind. The gladiator wasn't stopping. The Overseer wasn't stopping. The walls of the pit were closing in, and Aden was running out of time.
"Surrender to me. You don't have to fight anymore. Just give in."
Aden stumbled, crashing to his knees, the weight of exhaustion and the growing influence of the mask pressing down on him. His body could take no more. His pride, his will to resist, was slipping away. The mask felt like an extension of him now, its tendrils wrapping around his thoughts, suffocating him.
In that moment, he let go.
---
The mask's power surged through him like a flood, filling him with a rush of energy and dark strength. His body straightened, and a new clarity filled his mind. His senses sharpened. He was no longer exhausted. He was no longer weak. The mask gave him everything he needed—and more. His movements became fluid, precise. The gladiator's attack was slow in comparison to his new speed.
But something was wrong. Aden's thoughts were no longer his own. The mask's influence was absolute, guiding him, controlling him. He could feel its will intertwined with his own. There was no room for hesitation now, no space for doubt. The mask was in control, and Aden was just the vessel.
---
As the gladiator stepped forward, his previous confidence shattered, Aden's body moved without thinking. His arm shot out, faster than before, grabbing the gladiator by the throat and lifting him off the ground. The gladiator's eyes widened in shock as Aden squeezed, the power coursing through him.
"You are nothing."
The words escaped Aden's lips, but they were not his words. They were the mask's. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt this powerful, this in control. The gladiator struggled, but it was futile. Aden slammed him to the ground with an earth-shaking force, sending cracks through the stone.
---
The Overseer watched from above, intrigued. This was not the Aden he had been manipulating—it was something far more dangerous, something darker. The mask had fully claimed him, and now, Aden's fate was tied to it. The Overseer's plan had changed, but so had the game.