Fred's muscles screamed.
Every swing of his blade grew heavier, slower.
The Blood Children pressed closer, their eyes blank, their tiny hands like claws, scraping, tearing, pulling.
Subject 0 fought fiercely beside him, but even the enhanced strength of the experiment had its limits.
Fred knew it.
They couldn't hold out much longer.
They were drowning in bodies.
Drowning in the past.
He risked a glance at Mira, lying still at the edge of the battlefield.
Too still.
His heart clenched.
He had promised her.
He had promised to protect her.
Even if it cost him everything.
--
Somewhere in the chaos, Fred heard it:
A melody.
A voice.
Soft.
Familiar.
Calling him.
"Give in, Fred..."
"Let go..."
The mark on his chest pulsed.
The edges of his vision blurred.
The smiling man's words echoed in his head.
"Memory is currency. Pain is power."
Fred stumbled, a Blood Child sinking teeth into his arm.
He ripped the creature free, blood spraying across the broken stones.
But more came.
And more.
Endless.
He dropped to one knee.
Subject 0 grunted, holding off a dozen attackers with brutal sweeps of his arm.
Fred closed his eyes.
If there was a way out...
It wouldn't be through brute strength.
It would be through sacrifice.
---
Deep inside himself, Fred reached for the mark.
The seed.
The memory.
He could feel it — ancient, furious, weeping.
It wanted to be free.
It wanted to burn.
But if he unleashed it...
He might not be Fred anymore.
He might become something else.
Something monstrous.
He looked at Mira again.
At her pale face.
Her trembling hands.
And he made his choice.
Slowly, painfully, he tore open the wound in his mind.
Let the memory out.
---
The world shattered.
Colors inverted.
The Blood Children froze mid-lunge, their mouths open in silent screams.
Fred rose to his feet, though he no longer felt his body.
He was more than flesh now.
He was memory incarnate.
A storm of forgotten battles.
A river of rage.
The Blood Children fell back, sensing the change.
But it was too late.
Fred moved through them like a hurricane.
His blade no longer a weapon but an extension of his will.
Every swing carved not flesh, but existence itself.
He was rewriting reality with every step.
Subject 0 watched in awe, lowering his fists, his chest heaving.
The smiling man reappeared at the edge of the courtyard, his grin faltering.
He had wanted Fred's power.
But now he saw the cost.
Now he saw the mistake.
Fred locked eyes with him.
And the man took a step back.
For the first time, he looked afraid.
--
The ground trembled.
The Hollow Court crumbled.
Statues shattered.
The fountain split apart.
The Blood Children turned to dust, their bodies dissolving into the wind.
Fred stood in the center of the storm, panting, trembling.
He was still himself.
Barely.
Mira stirred.
She opened her eyes — wide, scared — and whispered his name.
"Fred..."
The sound of it broke him.
He stumbled to her side, falling to his knees.
Gathered her in his arms.
Held her like the world was ending.
Because maybe, for a moment, it had.
--
The smiling man was gone.
The Hollow Court was gone.
Only the broken city remained, silent and watching.
Fred cradled Mira, feeling the weight of what he had done.
Of what he had become.
Subject 0 stood nearby, silent as ever.
But Fred could feel it — a question in the air.
What now?
Where do we go from here?
Fred closed his eyes, feeling the mark on his chest settle into a deeper burn.
This wasn't over.
It was only beginning.
And somewhere in the distance, in the deepest part of the city, something woke up.
Something older than memory.
Something waiting for him.
---