Weightlessness falls upon me. I look around and see the ink around me, like a fluid, flowing smoothly around me. I hold my breath to prevent drowning in this sea of black, but I soon realize I have no breath to hold. It’s as though my need to breathe disappeared entirely, together with my sanity. The same can be said with all my other senses, as though I have completely dissolved into the ink but yet somehow conscious within it. I look down and see no arms and legs, no body to hold onto my soul, yet I can feel the surroundings, as if I have merged with the ink and became one.

With that concept in mind, I test my power again, attempting to manipulating the ink around me. To my surprise and utmost lack of joy, I’m able to, but not just that. I can feel myself splashing onto walls which are transparent, a cacophony roaring just outside. I have truly become the ink. I am ink, and ink is me.

Every drop of this ink seems to function with all my senses, my newly reformed brain able to process all the data at once. It’s different from what I’m used to.

Sight now feels like a gut feeling, like I know that there is something there. Touch feels like every square metre of a surface is a layer that I can cycle through, like a walk-in closet, where different sets of clothes are automatically worn and replaced every step I take. Hearing is about the same, except that everything is amplified and garbled up. As for the olfactory and taste senses, it just constantly smells and tastes like blood.

I take the opportunity to explore my environment, to soon see the lack of freedom I have. I am imprisoned by a cage, a sphere of glass, or so it seems like it. I look out and see two cyborgs peering into the sphere, staring straight at me. One of them holds a clumsily built chainsaw, only holding together by a web of thick vines haphazardly wrapped throughout the entire tool. The other doesn’t have a weapon. He is the weapon.

Blades replace his fingers, spikes jut out from his shoulders and knees, his faced nearly completely replaced with thick plated armor. The only thing distinguishing him from a complete robot is a small area around his left eye, where I see a touch of flesh which survived the transformation.

I turn my attention back to the chainsaw cyborg to see him revving his tool, the chains rattling dangerously, before he brings it down onto my cage. Seeing as to how the sphere is made of glass, I quickly expected it to shatter and for my ink body to be left scattered throughout the room. I wonder how that’d feel like.

However, the chainsaw hardly made a dent. Bright sparks blazed across the surface as the chains saw relentlessly into the sphere. Not even a minute has passed before the chainsaw crumbled into its separate pieces. I see the blades on the chains laying on the ground, dulled into nearly nothing. I look up at the sphere to see the slightest scratch on the surface, before I see it slowly fade away before my very eyes.

Confused, I move myself upwards, my movement resembling a tentacle reaching up from the depths of the sea. To test the damage of the sphere, I ram myself into where the crack once was, a feeling of desperation and an urge for freedom suddenly raging within me. I expected the helpless feeling of just colliding face-first into a wall, but instead, I found myself to pass right through the sphere, like a hot knife through butter. I managed to boost myself high enough to be eye to eye with the chainsaw cyborg, fear blatantly displayed through his paled face. What really am I for him to fear me like this?

I look down to see the prison I thought I was trapped in. I feel an odd sense of familiarity before recognizing the sphere. However, my investigation was cut short when the weaponized cyborg rushes for me, his bladed fingers shining in the light. I act with instinct.

My body surges towards his fingers and contacts it before slowly wrapping around his wrist. His eyes widen in shock and fear before I feel the ink commanding me to constrict his wrist. I hear a pained cry before I pull him by the wrist and launch him to the other side of the room, twisting his arm ever so slightly as he flies across. He slams into a wall, visible cracks forming around him from the impact. The room shook momentarily, a small amount powder raining down from the ceiling.

He lets out a groan, his body rapidly leaking a black substance from where his arm used to be. His metallic arm, still in my grasp, falls limp, leaking a similar substance. I crush the arm with such immense force that it surprises me how deadly this ink can truly be. I look up and see blazing fury flash through the weaponized cyborg’s eyes before he charges forward, vengeance filling his mind. My body, commanded by the ink’s instincts, deftly maneuvered around his attack before the ink in front of me forms a sharp spear and impales him straight through his metallic heart. His body falls limp, the heavy weight of the metallic prosthetics bearing down on my body. I feel the ink, seemingly has a mind of its own, starts to seep through the heap of metal, breaking apart every wire, link and structure holding the body together, eventually reaching the little flesh he has. The ink, very intrigued, plays around with the blood around the flesh before slowing to a halt. I feel myself relax a bit, thinking my control over the ink has returned.

I was wrong.

The illusion of control quickly dissolved as I feel constricted, only able to stand helplessly as I watch the ink repeatedly tear through the metal and the flesh, its power unmatched to any monster I’ve ever witnessed. After what feels like an eternity, the ink’s rage and fury subsides and I finally regain control. I retract the web of ink that was entangled within the scrap pile that now lay on the floor, the flesh peeking out from underneath the metal. I shiver from the sight as I retreat into the sphere.

The sphere, faintly reminiscent of my orb, oddly feels safer, the ink’s instincts less overwhelming inside the prison. My orb, who contains such mystery and power that it frightens me.

I hear a thud to my side. I quickly turn to see the cyborg who I forgot existed, lying on the ground, a hole through his heart. A similar black substance is already oozing out of his wound. I scan the surroundings to see who, or what, could have killed him. I’m pretty sure I’m the only one here who’s against these wretched abominations. The killer is clearly not on their side, so the question now is, who else would be fighting by my side?

Unless… they’re not on mine either.

Probably just the ink acting without my knowledge.

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I reside in the shell, slightly unsure of what to do next. I absentmindedly swirl around in the vessel, impatiently waiting for more action, a thirst for blood materializing. Eventually, I get the action I desire, though not the type that I hoped for. It’s not the type of action where I start to kill, but where I start getting killed.

An invisible inferno rips through me, vaporizing my body. I writhe in pain as the heat envelops me. I search around me to find the cause of my suffering but no one’s here. No one has come to check on me, the bodies or anything in this room for that fact. Desperate to escape, I slither out of the sphere and crawl in agony towards the door, the blazing sensation not fading in the slightest. I muster as much as energy as I can but my movement falters.

I’m too weak. The pain is too immense for even my reformed body to handle. Why is this happening? How is this happening?! Why bother torturing me when killing me is more efficient? Is this a sadist just watching me burn slowly into nothing? Is this a hostage situation where information is trying to be squeezed out of me? Is this my very own fear twisting itself inside? I don’t see a fire, don’t see any damages, don’t see a possible way to die. So how am I burning?!

Unless…

With the little consciousness I can still grasp onto, I relax myself, letting the ink flow slowly, now easily manipulated and molded into anything. I can feel the world getting fuzzy, my senses slowly being dimmed. I’m in danger, and I will do everything I can to save it. I stone myself for what’s to come till the very moment the world turns black.

~ ~ ~

I gasp for air, only to be greeted by thick smoke. The tumultuous cacophony of brutes and beasts fills my ears, the sounds clearer than it was previously. I open my eyes, slightly surprised to realise the presence of my eyelids. Not one second passes before fine dust stings my eyes, forcing them shut again. I instinctively try to clutch my eyes, only to find my arms restricted and bound. The roughness of the bind is enough to jog my memory of where I am. Right…I’m about to be cooked alive.

I force my eyes open. Ash and smoke cover my vision, the tears forming in my eyes blurring it even more, but the smoke separated for long enough for me to just barely see the dragon. Weighed down by thick and, I’m pretty sure, heavy chains, the dragon is helplessly being smacked and beaten up by the atrocities that would soon feast on my dead body. My eyes can no longer take the pain and I close them back again, the only thing I can do now is contemplate what I saw.

The dragon is not on their side. It’s forced to work with them. Though powerful when unleashed, a force to be reckoned with hidden deep within its belly, its nothing but helpless when trapped and restrained against its will, imprisoned under the chains and the hands of the cyborgs.

In many ways, it sounds like me.

I hear a screech before a low growl resonates around me. I hear the dragon opening its mouth, the heat from the flames already being felt on my skin. Fear fills me, though it feels rather nullified than what I’m used to do. As though a cloud of an unknown emotion is overpowering the fear. It takes me a moment before I recognize that feeling. It’s not an emotion.

It’s adrenaline.

Through the bustling crowds, a few misplaced screams find its way into my ears. The screams seem to be getting progressively louder, making me realise that it’s not something they found. Whatever’s hurting or scaring them, it’s coming towards me, and fast.

I try to wrestle out of the coarse rope I’m tied in, parts of it already burnt off from the initial blast of fire that I somehow miraculously survived. Despite the loosened rope, I’m still stuck, firmly lying in place in the ground. An odd sense of attraction rushes upon me, like a magnet to metal. The dragon’s growl grows louder and hear a distorted roar before the heat intensifies, the infernal blaze already free from the dragon’s belly. I brace for impact, awaiting death that was long overdue. Fear no longer suffocates me, but now, I feel acceptance, that maybe I deserve to be dead. Shut up and fight!

I feel a surge of energy rush through me, my eyelids flying open, the sting in my eyes no longer there. The world looks as though a filter has been placed on it. My vision feels distorted, disorienting and dark, adding to the dread of my overdue death. My body starts acting on impulse, breaking free from the rope as it immediately starts disintegrating, not from fire, but seemingly something corrosive. I slowly stand up as a viscous substance cover me. The flames impacted me but did not touch my skin, the substance seemingly fireproof and saving me from an early end. Again, I just don’t die.

My legs start walking towards the dragon, the cyborgs now too scared to do anything as my body acts with no emotion. An empty heart, an empty vessel and a consciousness that has no power. The dragon growls and roars, but the sounds are nothing but muffled. I see, or more of sense, my orb flying dangerously fast towards me, the entity inside it lingering slightly outside the prison as it slices through the crowd. Literally slicing their limbs off as it passes through. My arm reaches out and the orb stops directly above my palm before my body grabs it.

Now directly ahead of the dragon, its hot breath covering me with ashes as it leaves its nostrils, the orb is placed directly on it. Nothing happens for a moment, the black matter in it swirling around mindlessly, before it spikes itself into the creature.

Black veins start to crawl up from the point of impact, the creature’s eyes itself turning black. The veins crawl the length of its twisted body, disintegrating and corroding any chain it touches as passes. The moment the ink has merely touched its tail, the dragon lets out an earsplitting roar, enraged and now free from the feeling of entrapment. The substance covering me slowly seeps back into my skin, the feeling rather unpleasant and uncomfortable. The dragon flies up and starts spraying the now panicked horde with flames, incinerating whoever is unfortunate enough to be caught in its wrath. The dragon is free, but I am not.

I feel my control over my body being relieved back to me. I take the chance crush the now empty vessel in my hand, shattering it into a few large chunks that, when I reopen my hand, hovers over my clenched fist. ‘A shattered glass gauntlet’ as my late father would call it. Perfect for times like these, when there’s no entity to control inside it. I land a punch to a stray cyborg, the glass piercing into his skin before knocking him down with the impact. The adrenaline of power rushing to me as I land punch after punch to other cyborg attempting to recapture and contain me, the glass so sharp that even their augmentations stood no chance against its force. The chaos ensued from the dragon and me almost made me forget of the other person I wouldn’t want to get hurt. Coralia. Save her.

I quickly look around in the dimly lit cave before spotting a narrow tunnel, the light shining brighter down there. I rush towards it, occasionally holding my arm up to block attacks from the dragon, the shards rearranging itself to form a shield, before quickly reforming the gauntlet. I traverse my way through the horde before finding myself staring down a labyrinthic tunnel, full of twists and turns, doors lining the walls. How will I ever find her?!

I take a deep breath before I run down the corridor busting through every door and calling out her name like a madman. The fear I once had towards my death has reincarnated in a different form. The fear of Coralia’s death. I haven’t gotten what I needed, but what’s more important, is that I never got to say sorry for putting her in this mess.

I want to understand why she came for me and what she needed or wanted from me.

I want to understand why she slyly stalked and sloppily struggled to steal from my surprisingly stupid selection of science.

I want her to understand why I did such a thing, me willing to fight the fear of her turning on me so that it won’t overweigh that decision.

But most of all, I want her to be able to live a normal life again. A fear that has constantly bugged me throughout the entire journey. Damn it, Coralia. Why do you have to be so troublesom- Oof!