Day turned into a week.
Then another.
Two weeks had passed since his little escapade.
Since then, he had been careful—suppressing the urge to act too soon.
He was too close now to let excitement ruin everything.
Patience was key.
And now, the time had finally come.
Tonight, another experiment was scheduled.
Every researcher in the facility would be gathered in a single room, along with the successful experiments.
A security measure—one born from failure.
Failed Subject No. 2 ensured that.
A devil who had awakened with immense power… only to rebel instantly, slaughtering a third of the researchers before being subdued.
Since then, every successful experiment was forced to observe new awakenings—to ensure control.
And with the communication room left unattended, his chance had arrived.
…57, 58, 59…
His eyes snapped open.
He moved.
Silent.
Precise.
Gliding through the corridors, not a single misstep.
He reached his destination and pushed the door open without hesitation.
There it was—the Sacred Factor, pulsing with a steady glow.
A single thread extended from his fingertip, nearly invisible in the dim light.
With a controlled flick, it sliced through the device on his neck.
The small metal piece clattered to the floor—lifeless.
Another flick.
Thin, barely visible threads slithered across the room, weaving through gaps, wrapping around fixtures, securing themselves like a spider constructing an intricate web.
A delicate balance formed.
Each strand connected to something unseen, tension coiling like a predator waiting to strike.
With a final motion, he anchored the last thread.
A single cut, a slight pull… even the passing of time would tip the balance, setting everything into motion.
He stepped back, observing his work.
Subtle. Almost imperceptible.
But when the time came, the trap would spring—and the lab would bear witness to its own undoing.
Without a second thought, he turned and walked away.
No hesitation.
No looking back.
The countdown had begun.
——————✗—————
The chamber was silent, save for the rhythmic hum of sigils being woven and the occasional scratch of pen on paper.
Candlelight flickered across the walls, casting long, wavering shadows.
At the center stood a restrained subject—a new experiment, trembling beneath the weight of countless enchanted bindings snaking into his body.
His skin was bloodied from surgery mere moments ago.
Researchers surrounded him, their faces void of sympathy, their gazes cold and calculating.
Among them stood the "successful" experiments, silent spectators—a grim reminder of what was at stake.
A lead researcher stepped forward.
"Initiate the sequence."
A syringe pierced flesh.
Dark liquid flooded the subject's veins.
A sharp hiss—a breath sucked in too fast.
Then—agony.
The subject convulsed, his breath turning ragged as something unnatural twisted inside him.
The air grew thick.
Would he endure?
Would he break?
Seconds stretched into eternity.
Then—stability.
His thrashing eased.
His breathing, though unsteady, did not cease.
The researcher exhaled, scribbling down a note.
"Another partial success."
Some researchers turned to leave, already moving to their next task.
The lead scientist adjusted his glasses.
"Prepare the next—"
A sound split the air.
A deep, guttural rumble—felt before it was heard.
The walls groaned.
A pulse of raw, unstable energy rolled through the facility like an oncoming storm.
It started at the vault.
The opposing forces—once dormant—had been brought too close.
Their energies unraveled, a violent cascade of chaos.
The Sacred Factor and Death Factorclashed.
Light, brilliant yet sickening, erupted outward.
Gold against abyss.
Creation against destruction.
The very fabric of reality screamed under the strain.
The vault—reinforced with the strongest materials available—didn't just break.
It warped.
And then—it ruptured.
The explosion wasn't fire or shrapnel—it was pure, uncontrolled force.
The air itself fractured, shockwaves tearing through steel and concrete as if they were paper.
The researchers barely had time to scream before the world around them turned to ruin.
And in its final grasp,
it never let them go.