John felt every ridge, bump, and imperfection on the handle of the sword he clutched so tightly, turning his knuckles nearly ghostly white. His knees trembled ever so slightly, begging him to toss away his only weapon and curl up in fear.

Even as the battle between the stranger and the cursed amalgamation of bones and steel was raging on close by, he could hear nothing but the approaching footsteps and the screeching of metal heaving against stone, for he was completely focused on his opponent.

A thousand voices screamed out in his heart, all different variations of his own. Some asked him to run away, others to strike first, and more than a few suggested he give up, but John had no time to debate the opinions of his fractured mind, for the skeleton made the decision for him.

With speed far beyond what its feeble body should be capable of, the skeleton lunged at John, swinging down his blade with the vigor of ten men.

John blocked the strike, but the impact alone was enough to send him tumbling back, barely staying on his feet. “w-what the hell was that?”

A burning sensation spread across John’s arms, but in his shock, he hardly felt a thing. He remembered the stranger telling him about the surprising bursts of speed the skeleton could display, but he never imagined it would be that absurdly different.

The skeleton slowly fixed his stance, his lethargic movements standing in complete contrast to the momentum he instantly built mere seconds ago.

Noticing his momentary weakness, John mustered up all of his courage and carried out an attack of his own, thrusting his sword into the skeleton’s ribs with all of his weight behind it, cracking its dried bones, and sending it to the ground with a thud.

“I did it…I can’t believe it! I FUCKING DID IT!!!” John’s body almost went limp from all the stress suddenly dissipating, leaving him barely holding on to his sword, but his victory was short-lived.

“gh…” A deep gurgling voice reverberated across the empty hall, sending shivers down John’s back

“huh?”

“gho—godd…GOHDESSS.” It was not the voice of a singular being, but the amalgamation of many men, women, elderly, and children. All wailing and shrieking in unison.

John’s happiness left him as quickly as it came, replaced by dread and shock, born of the horrifying scene unfolding in front of his eyes. Black, viscous, liquid seeped from every orifice of its body, coating the skeleton in a layer of molten, ebony armor.

As the skeleton rose to its feet, the true horror of the situation reared its ugly head; because as John quickly noticed, his sockets were no longer empty and lifeless as they did before. The monster was alive, and it gazed upon its adversary with malice in its nonexistent eyes.

The skeleton took a stance; one that even John, who had no swordsmanship experience, knew had been refined and perfected over decades, yet strangely, it did not attack or even approach.

“w-what the hell? Are you… issuing a challenge here?”

John looked back, but he only saw darkness where the light of the sphere did not reach. He hoped to find the stranger watching him with a grin on his face, ready to help him now that the situation had changed, but he did not. There was no one to help him but himself, and as much as he did not want to, he knew that he needed to lift his sword and prepare for battle.

Seeing how naturally the skeleton held its own weapon, John tried to copy it. Bending his knees slightly and holding his sword in the same manner as it did.

“Huh? Where did it—” John took a deep breath, but for the spit second his eyes were closed, the skeleton appeared to vanish, only for him to see it when he lowered his eyes slightly, crouched low to the ground, with its sword planted deep in John’s gut.

John felt the strength leaving his body as the reality and sharp pain sunk in. he dropped his sword, unable to summon the willpower to keep holding on to it when he could see his blood seeping out of his body.

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He looked at the skeleton, and he could see that something had changed in its sockets, it no longer had hatred nor malice in its nonexistent eyes, It had glee there. It was mocking him, and perhaps it even chose to not instantly kill him, only to prolong his suffering.

The skeleton wrenched its sword out of John's abdomen, using his shirt to wipe away the blood staining the ancient, chipped blade. Causing him to drop to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.

“I—I-Help.” With his conciseness slowly fading away, John tried to call for help, but his voice was almost as weak as his body.

Unable to move or even scream, John could only watch helplessly as the skeleton approached him, its blade dripping with viscous black liquid. Knowing that his death was nearing, he pushed his body to the limit, digging his nails into the cold stone, leaving a trail of blood and shredded skin behind in a desperate attempt to escape the inevitable.

“I’ll admit, you’re a survivor if nothing else.”

John looked up. His vision was too blurry to make out the face or expression of the man who stood between him and the skeleton, but he knew that it could only be one person.

“You must’ve lost a lot of blood, you’re white as a damn ghost. Well, I suppose I should help huh, I wouldn’t’ve let you fight this thing if I knew it was going to mutate out of nowhere, so that’s my bad.” The indistinct figure of the stranger had its back casually turned to the black-clad skeleton, unafraid of its deadly blade.

“Don’t worry, I’ve brought you a present that’ll perk ya right up, although you’ll need to unwrap it by yourself, but first things first, let's deal with you.” John couldn’t recognize the words muttered by the stranger, but he understood the meaning behind them when he saw veins emerge from the ground, brushing away dirt and stone effortlessly, and wrapping around the skeleton, binding it in place.

“That should hold it there for a bit, now as for you, blue brat, I left your gift right there, so I’d get to crawling if I were you.” The stranger pointed to a nearby corner where one of his light spheres bobbed up and down in the air, illuminating what little remained of the abomination he left John to fight.

Only the skull and some of its chest remained, but it was still somehow alive, and much like its smaller comrade, it too gazed upon the dying John with a mixture of glee and hatred swirling in its empty sockets.

“Here, use this.” The stranger tossed a dagger on the ground, its materials and crafting cheap but potent. “You probably can’t pick up that sword after losing so much blood, so grab this dagger, Crawl towards that thing, and plunge it in its chest, right where a heart would be… that is the only way you’ll survive.”

Even if John could speak, he would be unable to conjure any words out of the mere shock of the stranger’s near-impossible request, but the only real objection he could offer was the tears racing down his now pale face.

“I already told you, survival is a privilege of the strong, so I’m not going to help ya here… but I’ll tell you this, I was just like you when I first arrived. Weak, confused, and damn terrified, but that wasn’t the worst of it. Because much like you, I didn’t care enough to even fight when push came to shove. If you are unwilling to fight for it, then you don’t deserve that life of yours.”

The stranger’s words were seared into John’s heart. He wondered just how much truth they held, and if he truly cared so little for his life. He remembered his monotonous daily routine, so boring and forgettable yet very desirable to him in his current situation. He remembered dreaming of adventure, an escape somewhere he would be free from the shackles of his own making. But what he could not recall was ever fighting for those dreams of his.

He never truly took a risk to reach for the life he desired, yet he wondered why he felt no joy in what he had. ‘The stranger is right’, John thought, and once he realized that unmistakable truth, something within his heart came to life, commanding his body to move by itself.

“So, you do have what it takes after all, huh? I didn’t expect that of you blue, but I have to say, I’m just a little proud. Not all of them make it this far.” The stranger watched as John gripped the dagger tightly in his hand and crawled towards the living remains of the abomination, dragging his own innards behind him as he slithered ever closer. “Oops, I was a little louder than I needed to be there, but I don’t think you can even hear me right now, can ya?”

Much like the prey he was approaching, John was rendered into nothing but a husk, a beast driven by an instinct to survive. And much like a mindless beast, he stabbed at the abomination’s broken chest erratically, missing most of his attacks in his delirious state.

He stabbed, cut, pierced, gouged, and gored desperately, his consciousness fading with every small movement he made, but, eventually, much to the stranger’s delight, the now chipped dagger made its way through to the abomination’s nonexistent heart, causing it to let out a gut-wrenching scream before the malformed mockery of life in its eyes dissolved into nothingness.

In the moment of its death, John felt something within himself. An abnormal warmth spread across his body, giving him vigor and strength the likes of which he never felt before.

No drug could give him such energy, no woman could give him such pleasure, and no food could give him such satisfaction.

What he felt could only be described as …Euphoric.

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