The Worthy Death
The air turns purple, thick, and scorching. I can feel my throat burning with every breath, but I can't afford to falter. In front of me, the knight-monster advances, each step echoing like embers scorching my skin.
"AHHHHH!"
The screams reverberate, but they don't come from him. It's as if his body itself is crying out in pain. His armor fuses with his flesh, the silver steel twisting and sinking into his skin, becoming a part of him.
The sword in his hand roars with purple flames, dripping molten metal that hisses as it splatters against the ground. His eyes... they're no longer human.
They pierce me. Accuse me.
Then, he starts moving.
One step.
I brace myself. My steel bracers gleam as I tighten them around my forearms.
Two steps.
I lower my center of gravity, crouching, bending my knees like a tiger ready to pounce on its prey.
Three steps.
The sword rises in a lethal arc. The flames crackle and hiss, and for a split second, I see my distorted reflection in the fire.
Four steps.
The beast strikes.
"Shit!"
I lean to the side. The burning blade whistles past my neck, the heat scorching my skin. But I don't lose my rhythm. Spinning on my axis, I push off with my left foot and throw a powerful hook at his stomach with my right shield.
BAM!
The impact reverberates. My arm trembles as steel collides with flesh and fire. But he doesn't budge. The monster doesn't feel pain. His grotesque, tense muscles absorb the blow like it's nothing.
"Tsh!"
The sword swings down again in a horizontal arc. The heat scorches my face. I lunge forward, stepping into his range before he can finish the attack, and deflect the blade's path with my left shield.
Clang!
The steel screeches. I seize the tight space to aim a direct strike at his throat. My shield drives forward with the force of a hammer.
But before it lands, his monstrous hand catches my wrist. The grip is monstrous. My bones creak, and with a single jerk, he hoists me into the air like I'm a rag doll.
"Argh!" I cry out in pain, but I see it.
'Now!'
"ROAR!"
With a guttural growl, I transform my left arm. Claws erupt from my fingertips, muscles swell, and my skin hardens like steel. Ignoring the agony, I twist my body back and unleash a savage punch to his chest.
BAM!
BOOM!
The blow sends him flying back like a projectile, his body crashing into the wall with a deafening impact. Dust and debris cascade down. I stagger to my feet, gasping for air. My hands tremble, the burns searing my skin, and the blisters are already beginning to sting.
'I hope I'm not infected with that shit.'
"This won't be enough..." I mutter, watching the monster rise from the rubble.
The flames on his sword roar louder, illuminating the cracks where his armor melds with his flesh. The stone beneath his feet fractures. He's not giving me a moment to catch my breath.
He moves again, and this time, he's faster.
He feints with a diagonal slash, forcing me to raise my right shield. But he fakes, twisting mid-motion to aim at my side. I barely manage to cross my left shield in time to block it.
Clang!
The impact drives my feet into the ground. The force jolts my arms all the way to my shoulders. He presses the attack, his flaming sword raining down in fluid arcs.
Clang!
Clang!
Clang!
It's a storm of blades, relentless and merciless.
Clang!
Clang!
I retreat step by step, deflecting each slash, the heat blistering my skin even through the shields.
Clang!
Clang!
But I can't give in.
'An opening! I need it now!'
The next swing, I dodge by leaning forward, sliding my right foot. I step into his guard with a full-body twist, my shields flashing as I deliver a cross strike to his face—left, then right.
Bang! Bang!
The force of the blow staggers him. His flames waver. I seize the moment, bending my knees and launching myself upward with a rising knee strike to his chest.
Crack!
The sound of the impact is like thunder. The monster crashes onto his back, raising dust and embers. Without giving him time to recover, I slam my fist into the ground, invoking my blessing.
"Dona!"
Swoosh!
The earth trembles as the stones beneath him transform into sharp spikes that shoot upward, piercing his armor and pinning him down. The creature writhes violently, purple flames cracking around him, but he can't break free.
The sound of dying flames fills the air. For a moment, only silence and my ragged breathing remain.
I look at my arms. The burns are severe, the flesh charred, and my divine blessing is barely containing the damage. There's no time to rest. The monster is no longer moving, so...
'I should take advantage.'
I head toward the door, grabbing one of the metias and using it instantly. That girl must be handling everything there. I just hope she's not in danger. If this place is crawling with cultists, then she must be fighting them.
The monster kneels.
Its charred figure seems barely held together, as if its skin and flesh are nothing more than a fragile shell on the verge of breaking. The ground around it has sunk, scorched black, as if its very existence warps the stone beneath it.
The air around me feels thick, as if I'm breathing liquid ash. Every breath burns my throat, and tears stream uncontrollably down my face.
It's not just exhaustion—it's something deeper.
A primal instinct screaming at me to run.
My right-hand trembles as I pull out the pistol loaded with Yang bullets.
The golden glow of its magic cast sharp shadows across my face, shadows too long, too warped, as if the world itself were bending toward this abomination.
"Thi' didn't have to end like thi'…" I whisper, though I'm not sure if I'm talking to him or myself. "You shouldn't have tu'ned into thi'… it's not fair."
I step forward, the weight of the pistol in my hand grounding me to reality. I move close enough to see the details of what he's become—too close.
The flesh of the monster pulses, throbbing beneath its warped armor, as if alive. Parts of its body ooze and harden simultaneously, merging into grotesque new shapes. There's no symmetry, no logic to its form.
Every inch of it is an insult to what a body should be.
My legs tremble, but I force them to keep moving. I raise the barrel of the pistol, aiming at its head, and steel myself to end this.
But then, it moves.
A black arc—a grotesquely twisted arm, long and scythe-like—slices through the air.
I barely see the attack before I feel it.
An instant. A dull, sickening thud.
And then... nothing.
My right arm is gone.
"AAAAAGGGGHHHH!"
Pain crashes into me like lightning, searing from my shoulder straight to my skull. I collapse to my knees, clutching the stump with my left hand as blood pours out in thick, hot rivers.
I can barely see through the tears.
I can barely think.
"No… no!"
I look up, gasp, and I see it.
The monster is no longer kneeling. Its blackened skin pulsates, alive, oozing a dark, writhing liquid like a nest of starving serpents.
Its head—if it can still be called that—is a featureless cavity. Where its face should be, a gaping, infinite void opens wide, consuming the light, devouring the heat from everything around it.
And the aura.
The aura is the worst part.
It's not just pressure—it's something deeper, something primal. The air itself recoils from touching it, bending unnaturally around the creature. A shiver crawls up my spine as the golden light of my pistol suddenly goes out.
Not gradually. All at once.
The darkness emanating from it doesn't just fill the room; it devours it.
"This… isn't possible…" I mutter, my voice fractured.
"Cat-boy…" Felt's voice breaks through the silence, so small and fragile I can barely hear her. She runs toward me, but her eyes... her eyes say it all.
She already knows.
She's seen it.
The creature, this blackened shell of what was once a knight, begins to shake. A slow, unnatural spasm ripples through its distorted form. Its charred skin cracks and splinters like dry branches under an invisible weight.
The muscles writhe beneath its surface.
Alive.
Desperate to escape that rotting vessel.
"No… No…" I whisper, inching backward.
The monster picks up the sword from the ground. Its grotesquely elongated fingers curl around the hilt, bending backward like brittle twigs. It stands there for a moment, as if thinking.
But it doesn't think.
It doesn't feel.
It just is.
And then it stabs itself.
The blade sinks into its abdomen, and what happens next should not exist in this world.
Whatever was trapped inside that body is now free.
The flesh recoils, the skin tears apart, and what spills out is not blood but something black and alive—a boiling river of darkness.
The ground beneath it begins to collapse, stone cracking and splitting under the weight of the impossible. The creature's aura consumes everything: light, sound, even time itself seems to slow around it.
I can't look away, even though every fiber of my being screams at me to run.
"No…" I whisper again.
Its eyes—or the empty pits where they should be—turn to me. From these hollow sockets, a dense, sticky purple liquid oozes. It has no pupils, but I know it's looking at me. Looking at us.
And though it has no mouth, I hear something.
A low, guttural vibration reverberates in my chest, threatening to tear my soul apart.
"Don't get close!" Felt screams, her voice trembling with desperation.
But it doesn't move closer.
It stays still. And somehow, that's worse.
The sound of dripping fills the room. A relentless "plop… plop… plop…" that grows unbearable. It's the black liquid dripping from its form, spreading across the ground like tainted blood.
And then it happens.
The creature implodes, collapsing inward as if a void were swallowing it whole. Its skin peels back in fibrous strips, writhing like snakes as they stretch and twist. What remains of its body begins to grow.
The blackened strands weave into impossible patterns, forming something… something that should never exist.
Its left arm extends, spiraling grotesquely until its weight bends it unnaturally. What was once a hand splits into dozens of knotted tentacles, cracking like whips. Every movement defies logic, as if time itself stutters around it.
Its face—no, its lack of one—is the worst.
Where a head should be, there's an elongated, misshapen skull. The bones are exposed, jagged, and porous, like decayed wood. From the gaping maw where its mouth should be, sticky threads of viscous liquid drip to the floor with a nauseating sound.
I can't breathe. I don't want to breathe.
"C-Cat-boy…" Felt whispers hoarsely, barely able to speak. She's trembling.
So am I.
"Felt… run."
"N-no. No… what is this?
I don't know.
But whatever it is, it doesn't belong in this world.
The monster—if it can still be called that—begins to move. Each step leaves behind a trail of that black liquid, spreading and swallowing the ground. It's as if reality itself is giving way beneath its feet. The walls tremble, the air vibrates under unbearable pressure.
"This shouldn't exist…" I whisper, feeling a burning sensation in my eyes.
My legs won't respond. My body screams at me to move, to run, but I can't. I can only stand there, frozen, as that thing gets closer. It drags its misshapen arm, releasing a faint sound—a mix between a growl and a buzz—those drills into my ears.
The sound reverberates, sinking deep into my bones, like the air itself is tearing apart around it.
Every step it takes leaves behind black stains that bubble and drip. Something lives inside that liquid—slimy little serpents, parasites squirming out into the air before hitting the ground. They writhe and crawl, hungry, heading straight for me.
"NO!" I scream. It's all I have left. I throw myself backward, barely regaining control of my body.
"Garfield, watch out!" Felt moves too, swift as a shadow, her daggers glinting in her hands. But it doesn't matter. 'What could she possibly do against that?'
The creature stops. Its elongated arm rises, tearing through the air until it crashes into the ceiling. The sound of the impact is deafening—a hollow detonation that echoes like a war drum.
From its back, more tentacles sprout. They pulse, throbbing with a rhythm all their own, as if they had hearts. These appendages seem alive—black, liquid snakes twisting and writhing, searching for something… for us.
The sound of my teeth chattering is the final crack in my composure.
This isn't something I can kill.
This isn't something I can stop.
"MOVE!" Felt grabs my arm and pulls.
We run. We run like never before, as the monster drags itself behind us. Every movement it makes is a grotesque roar of twisting flesh and crunching bones.
We try to escape, but the door seems so far away I can barely make it out.
The world darkens, as if its mere presence devours the light. Despair claws at us, cold and sharp like a knife.
And then, I understand.
For the first time, I understand.
There's no way out.
'Are you going to run away?'
The voice echoes in my head, ancient and cruel. It takes shape, as though that clown—'that damned shadow'—is still whispering to me from the deepest corners of my mind.
My steps grow heavy, my thoughts a cascade of images. I see Ram struck down by that devastating magic. I see the blood—her blood—spilling before my eyes. I see my beloved pierced through; her life nearly ripped away while I stood powerless to stop it.
Everything I've done… it's all been in vain.
'You're not a hero.'
"I know," I whisper, breathless. "You don't have to say it."
I've fallen so many times. Lost so much that losing again almost feels fair. Dying feels fair.
But then, something shatters the darkness.
'You're weak, and because you are, you must fight with your mind and your fists. The strength of the weak can surpass that of the strong.'
The general's voice rings out clearly, like a ray of light piercing an endless abyss. Those words hit me, ripping me out of my trance. 'I can think.' I can analyze. I can compensate for my weakness.
The creature growls, dragging itself toward us, its deformed body twisting with blind rage. Its attacks are clumsy now, as if something inside it is eating away at its core.
'They have no hope of survival,' I remember. The general said that. These monsters can't last long after transforming. Their power is immense, but their time is limited.
The problem is that neither can we.
I smile.
It's a broken smile, a desperate grimace in the middle of chaos, but I smile.
"Golden girl." I grab Felt's hand, pulling her toward me just in time.
A surge of black snakes erupts where we were standing a second ago, covering the ground in a viscous, writhing mass. We stumble back, no longer turning our backs on the monster. Felt stares at me, confused, her breathing ragged, her eyes clouded as if trapped in a trance of absolute terror.
"Focus!" I growl, tugging her. "We can't jus' stand 'round!"
I won't last much longer. The absence of my arm burns, the void is a constant presence threatening to devour my sanity. The yang crystal protecting her won't hold out much longer.
But this isn't the time to think about that.
The monster lunges forward, and the air trembles with its attack. Tentacles and claws rain down like a black deluge. The ground cracks under its weight. It's a storm of death and chaos.
I move on instinct, rolling to one side, gasping. Every movement sends a sharp pain shooting through my wound. The liquid snakes lash out, trying to ensnare me, but I dodge.
Barely.
"Don't turn your back on it!" I yell at Felt, my voice cracking with exhaustion.
'Think, Garfield, think.'
Every passing second weakens the creature. I can see it. Its movements are more erratic, its form beginning to crumble at the edges, like it's losing cohesion.
The transformation is tearing it apart.
"The strength of the weak can surpass the strong," I mutter to myself, repeating the general's words.
I can't beat it with strength. I can't overpower it.
But I can survive.
And to do that, I need to think.
The monster's roar is a thunderclap that rattles my bones. A horrible echo, as if hell itself were tearing its throat apart to sing our death sentence. The darkness swirls around it, thick and sticky, taking the form of writhing hungry snakes.
"I can't hold this off much longer!" I shout. My mana barely slows the wear on my body. The absence of my right arm weighs on me—not just physically, but mentally. A weakness the monster can smell, like a lion scents blood in the air.
But I won't stop.
Not today.
The monster moves with the savagery of a cornered beast. Its attacks are no longer calculated—it isn't hunting; it wants to tear us apart. Black tentacles lash like whips, splintering the ground, filling the air with the stench of rot.
"Kid!" I roar again.
"It's… impossible," she mutters, pressing herself against me.
"IDIOT!"
I let out a growl, shoving her hard enough to snap her out of her trance and send her flying.
"MOVE, DAMMIT!" I shout, my voice booming as I dodge a strike that obliterates the ground to my left. "GRAB THE WEAPON AND BLOW ITS DAMN HEAD OFF!"
My words echo, drowning out even the monster's roars. 'It's now or never.'
My body feels heavy, my movements slow. Every step is agony, but I keep going. One hit from those tentacles would destroy me, but the real danger is time. If we stay even a second longer, we'll die.
'I won't die.'
The creature tears itself apart, tentacles and snakes erupting like rotten veins trying to devour the world. The air grows heavier, the stench burns my throat, but none of that matters anymore.
Nothing matters except surviving to protect the ones I care about.
My muscles burn. My heart feels like it's about to burst.
"FELT!" I scream, my voice shattered as the ground beneath our feet.
A hum reverberates, a roar that shouldn't exist in this reality. But Felt doesn't hear it. It can't reach her.
Because she's not human anymore.
Felt vanishes. A golden shadow dancing like lightning in the middle of a storm. Her movements are impossible. The monster tries to catch her—its tentacles rise, smashing through the air, the walls—but everything is sliced apart.
Slash! Slash!
Every failed attempt sends a sharp crack through the air, freezing my blood.
Slash!
She keeps moving, or at least I think she does, because every time the monster strikes, it's cut. I can't see her; she's become the wind itself.
Slash after slash, I barely notice when she uses the walls for leverage. Jump, slash, recover, slash.
At first, I thought she was just a spoiled brat, inexperienced and useless.
"Incredible…" I whisper through gritted teeth.
Slash! Slash!
Her daggers rain down like sharp wind, and I know what I have to do. My hands tremble as I pick up the pistol from the ground. The magazine clatters when I throw it aside in fury. There's no time to hesitate.
No room for fear.
"If I want this to work…" I glance at the creature, cold sweat sliding down my back. "I've gotta go all out."
The monster convulses. Its body shudders, the black mass splitting open like a giant wound. Slimy, writhing snakes spill out in a cascade. Alive. Yes, they seem alive.
But my instincts scream.
My instincts that refuse to back down.
My instincts, desperate to survive.
My heart, yearning to be stronger.
My soul, clinging to live one more day.
Felt freezes in place, her entire being suspended, untouchable. Her gaze darts in every direction, but all she sees is that black liquid. There's nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.
'I've got it.'
"TAKE MY ARM!" I hurt my only arm toward Felt with everything I have left.
She doesn't hesitate. She doesn't need to. Felt grabs it. Her small but steady hands grip mine with a determination so fiercely, it shocks through me like lightning.
'Come on, golden girl. Let's destroy it.'
The creature quivers, its presence shaking the entire room. It rises above us, a gaping hole of pulsating shadows, devouring everything in its path. No escape. No way out.
But we're not running.
I take a breath. The last shred of courage I have left fills my lungs. My fingers clutch the pendant at my chest, and I crush it in my hand.
The mana—scarce and fragile—answers my call. A scream of life, a roar that tears through me.
'Thank you, Mother, for helping me even now.'
"HUMA!" My voice bursts out, a thunderclap that splits the air.
The ground erupts. Crystals explode in every direction like spears birthed from my own body. They hang in the air, waiting, ready. Felt leaps onto them, as if gravity is merely a suggestion.
"GIVE IT EVERYTHING YOU'VE GOT!" I shout as the monster's gaze locks onto us. It feels us.
Its tentacles slash down like scythes, but Felt is faster. She's a golden storm, cutting through everything in her path. The world around us fractures, divided between the darkness of that thing and the streaks of light she leaves behind.
My body leans forward. My fingers grip the bullets in my one good hand as the monster prepares its final attack. Its broken, trembling form expands, a black abyss growing larger, hungrier.
'Don't stop!'
'Keep going!'
My thoughts scream louder than my heartbeat. My trembling legs hold firm.
"OHRRAHHHH!" With a stomp that shakes the floor beneath me, I hurl the bullets with every ounce of strength I have left.
The sound is deafening. The bullets tear through the air, blazing with desperation, with my sheer will to survive. The monster tries to block them. Snakes of shadow lash out, tentacles forming shields—but it's too late.
The bullets bury themselves in its skull.
One last time, I look toward Felt, her silhouette glowing against a battlefield of shattered crystals and blackened blood.
The monster roars, a final, desperate attempt to lash out—a twisted shadow of life clinging to its form. It twists, writhes, swirling as though trying to stitch itself back together. But it won't succeed.
"Kill it, Felt!" I roar, my voice an unstoppable command, every shred of air in my lungs expelled.
Felt doesn't hesitate. She rushes forward, faster than the wind itself. Fearless, she throws her Yang crystal into the air—a golden flash that slices through time. She sees it. She feels it.
The monster reacts, sluggish and clumsy, but it's already over.
My arm.
My gauntlet.
Felt drives my arm forward with every bit of strength she has. The impact lands directly on the monster's skull, detonating the embedded bullets and the Yang crystal simultaneously.
BOOM!
The creature staggers. Its tentacles shudder. And in that instant, everything changes. Time stops.
A blinding light erupts from the point of impact, obliterating the darkness with an unstoppable force. Yang magic, stored deep within the crystal, explodes like a newborn sun.
The air splits apart. The walls groan, buckling under the power. The shockwave slams into me, hurling me backward.
But I don't fall.
Not today.
The monster disintegrates. Its once unstoppable body is now nothing but a dissolving mass, fading into the light.
Darkness succumbs to the light.
"OHRRAHHHHHH!"
My roar merges with the chaos. The transformation overtakes me—wild, instinctual. I become a beast without thought, without calculation. The only thing that matters is saving her.
Felt is falling.
Before she hits the ground, I'm already moving.
What remains of that monster collapses into a formless, boneless sludge—a putrid black mass threatening to corrupt everything it touches.
I grab her with a clawed hand, firm but careful, while the stench burns through my senses. Ice magic bursts from my grip, fast and cold. I form a tiny ledge on the wall—just enough to propel us toward the hallway.
CRACK!
The door doesn't hold. We crash through it like cannon fire.
I hit the ground hard, rolling violently. My body twists, forcing the beastly form out of me in an instant. The chill dissipates, leaving me human again, broken and gasping.
Felt lands farther away. For a moment, silence engulfs everything.
"Felt!"
Her body is crumpled, her breathing shallow and shaky. But she's standing. Barely. Like a puppet with its strings cut—a broken marionette defying gravity itself.
'We almost died in there.'
'A regular knight turned into that thing.'
My teeth grind so hard, a sharp pain shoots up to my temple. The world around me spins, endless and relentless.
"Shit!"
BAM!
I slap my face hard enough to make my ears ring, forcing myself to obey.
To move.
To keep going.
Each step burns through my bones, but I push forward until I reach her.
"Felt..."
As I get closer, I understand. 'She fainted.'
"That idiot..." I mutter, clenching my fist tightly.
Blood stains her face. It drips from her nose, trails down her ears. Yet even in this state, even with her gaze empty and unfocused, she's still standing.
Something twists in my chest. A knot of horror, relief, and something else. Something I can't explain.
A smile escapes before I can stop it.
"She's so damn amazing..."
I take my arm, and together with Felt, strap her to my back using my belt. Her body feels heavy—like a precious burden, a reminder of what I must protect.
I walk forward.
The stench hits me like an invisible wall: a vile mix of rot, dead flesh, and years of neglect. Cockroaches crawl through the cracks, indifferent witnesses to hell no one wants to acknowledge.
Prisons that shouldn't exist.
Lives that shouldn't be like this.
'I don't want to look. But I have to.'
This is the world I've avoided for so long. The horror no one admits, the truths no one wants to tell. A reality that silently devours too many souls. If I must carry this truth, I will.
If I must be a light, I will.
Then, I hear them.
"I'm sorry..."
A murmur, soft as a sigh, pierces my heart. Laments. Not empty cries, but true laments, born from the depths of a broken soul.
"I didn't think it would end like this," the tone darkens, each word trembling with rage. "I'll kill him! I'll destroy everything to avenge you!"
An old man appears at the end of the corridor. His figure looks the same, but his gaze doesn't. He's no longer weak or tired. His eyes burn with bloodlust, consumed by hatred.
"So, you're here," he say.
He clutches a bag to his chest like it's a treasure.
"I tried going that way," he points toward the void. "This place only has one way in."
I glance up at the ceiling, the weight of reality pressing down harder than ever. We're deep. Too deep.
"Old man, hold onto my back with everything you've got. And don't let go of that bag, no matter what."
He obeys without question.
The weight adds to Felt's, and for a moment, my body feels like it might collapse. But no. My steps don't falter. My heart thunders, like a war drum pounding in my chest. 'I won't fall. Not here. Not now.'
Corpses stare at me from the floor. Rot surrounds me, destruction whispers in my ears.
"I won't let it stay like this."
'If I have to be a light... I'll become the goddamn sun that rises every morning.'
"AAAAAAGGGHHH!"
My muscles burn, tearing apart as I transform. A red, blazing fury consumes my vision, like a sunrise bursting from within me.
'Spirits of the earth, if you want to see a future, let me fight one more time.'
I grin.
A roar erupts from my throat.
I leap.
BOOM!
I smash the stone ceiling with everything I have. CRACK! The rock shatters, yielding to my will. The spirits respond, breaking the earth before me as if they see something in me worth helping.
'I'll fight. I'll face my problems with everything I've got. I won't run anymore.'
I climb. Tearing through the earth like an unstoppable bolt of lightning. And when my feet touch the air, I see it:
The sun.
It rests on the horizon, massive and red, lighting up the shadows, driving them away with its warmth. It feels like it's speaking to me. Like it knows me.
"Garfield!"
A voice shouts from below, hoarse, and furious. That red-haired bastard calls out to me.
"You're late!" I yell back, a fearless grin spreading across my face. There's no pain, no doubt, only pride.
The sun reflects off my single hand as I clench it into a fist.
"This warrior maiden and my incredible self-have destroyed the darkness!"
I take a deep breath. Fresh air fills my lungs. The darkness is behind me now, at least for a while.
'My name is Garfield Tinsel, and I'll be the strongest in the world.'