**Chapter 67: I Am the Chorus of Screams, Part 2**
Sam had managed to get rid of one tentacle, but it didn’t give much relief. A dozen more bastards came at him, and he could only dodge by leaving the room, creating a hole in the wall, and throwing himself into the hallway, rolling through the dust and debris, then getting up and running again.
The tentacles had a limit. They couldn't stretch indefinitely as if made of rubber. They looked like the tentacles of an octopus—or more like a Kraken from the legends. A creature that very possibly existed in this world. He had no desire to test that hypothesis, though.
"So much confidence in yourself, and yet you're running like a rat!" War shouted.
She thought she could provoke him. How childish. As he’d said, he’d let go of arrogance. Neither she nor anyone else could make him trip over the same stone, not anymore.
Sam had all the advantages, especially the powers neither Satan nor they knew about. He was saving them for the right moment. They’d still be effective after losing the element of surprise, but he had to choose carefully when to reveal them. It would be a decisive moment that could determine the outcome of the battle. He could turn intangible like a shadow when cornered, flipping the situation in an instant.
It was a plan for victory, the simplest one that couldn’t go wrong. The less complicated a plan, the easier it was to succeed. That had become very clear to him during the few weeks he'd spent at the Wright mansion—if he hadn't learned it in his previous life.
Sam kept losing ground, retreating, and yet he hadn't seen his sisters anywhere. Either they were being sensible and avoiding the fight, staying hidden, or they had taken the initiative to go up to the second floor. Sam didn’t mind; on the contrary, it was fine with him. Things would get complicated if they showed up now. He wanted everything to be simple, to end in the blink of an eye. Paradoxically, the more help they provided, the harder it would be to achieve victory according to that plan.
How could they believe he was cornered if he had two allies fighting by his side?
Not to mention the possibility of them dying after all the effort he’d put into keeping them alive and submissive for his enjoyment.
War and Hunger attacked together; the tentacles kept chasing him relentlessly. Meanwhile, Hunger fired several shots from behind her younger sister. The advantage of fighting in a hallway was that, although he didn’t have much room to maneuver, the attacks couldn't come from too many directions.
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It was an invisible attack—a projectile—that he shouldn't have been able to dodge or even feel, but he had plenty of time to react, raising an ice barrier, though it exploded instantly.
And so it went. Three times he raised the barrier, and three times it shattered into a thousand pieces, but at least it blocked the projectiles and kept the tentacles at bay. That said, he was soon going to run out of hallway. He’d have to pick a door to throw himself through.
He frowned, getting ready. He made ice manifest right under where War would step a split second later, actually less than a tenth of a second, trapping her and sending her flying into the ceiling from the impact.
And at that moment, to his astonishment, spikes of earth grew from the ceiling, impaling War all over her body. Sam was stunned. What the hell was that? What incredible coordination. How had Violet seen that coming when even he hadn't?
It looked like they’d planned it out, but no, they hadn't.
Hunger laughed shamelessly, taunting, "Caught like a fly."
They were always bickering like sisters, pushing and teasing each other, yet he hadn’t been able to break their bond or turn them against each other. Strange.
Hunger stomped, shattering all the earth spikes, ignoring her sister’s frustrated growls as she fell and landed.
“I see you! Now I’ve got you!” Hunger sang out, like a deadly warning.
She fired toward the ceiling. Sam tensed, knowing he couldn’t react blindly, not through another floor. He braced himself, watching closely, waiting to see a blood-soaked limb fall through the curtain of smoke—not just ceiling debris—but nothing fell. Apparently, or so he hoped, Christina and Violet had narrowly saved themselves. Or, at the very least, he hoped they were still alive.
Sam bit his lower lip hard, drawing blood. At the very least, he hoped they hadn't been seriously injured. He knew it wasn’t certain. It wasn't safe.
“You’re all like rats,” Hunger said. “Must be a family thing.”
They kept advancing, cornering him—just as he wanted. And then the moment arrived.
That damn dog's tentacles shot toward him, and he had no space to maneuver, no room to dodge, and no time to form the ice barrier. So he was impaled all over his body, just like War had been moments earlier. The way the tentacles twisted and pushed inside told him this had become personal a long, long time ago.
War took a few steps forward, intending to finish him off. Well, to knock him out. As much as she might have wanted to, she couldn’t kill him.
But he could, and his chance had come.
Hunger seemed to sense something and shouted a warning to her sister, but it was too late.
Sam turned intangible like a shadow, slipping out of the damned tentacles' grip, and thrust one of his arms through War’s chest, slipping through her ribs as well, until he reached her heart. When he felt his hand pass through the organ, he broke out of his shadow state.
Every creature in this world needed a heart, and now he had hers in his hand.
**I Am the Chorus of Screams, Part 2: END**