The claw was squashed up against the side of the mountain, earth and stone bent into a perfectly-sized pit around it. Six out of eight talons were gone, five out of eight eyes had ruptured. It was bleeding heavily, soft quivers running through its body with sparse intervals.

Gabriel recognized it. The quivers, the scent that lingered in the air around it, the fluctuations of energy, like a soul struggling to stay behind. Death was near, and the claw was knocking at its gates.

But this was a battle, a fight to the death. And that meant one thing, if the enemy was knocking at death’s gate then so were you. The saying went that a cornered rat would bite even a cat, and it wasn’t wrong. It was when your enemy was at death’s gate that they were at their most fearsome. And those who underestimate those at death’s door, Gabriel had seen more of them die than any other ally.

So he was slow in his approach. He missed it by a bit at first due to his speed, but the spell Alice cast on him ran out eventually so he could do it at his own pace. One step at a time, one slow breath at a time.

His body ached. The first hit he got from the claw, it had crushed at least a handful of his bones. His wrists had gotten the worst of it since he held his blade up to block that blow. When the adrenaline was pumping, when the souls were burning and the mana was flowing it was easy to ignore it, to pretend like it wasn’t real.

But the end was nigh, things were slowing down. Thus it caught up with him, his mind and body started to slowly grasp the situation with clarity that instincts could not. But it was still fine.

It was just broken bones. It was just torn flesh. He was the man who once kept going to take down his target even when his right arm was barely hanging on by the joint in his shoulder. He was the man who completed his mission even as fire came alive in his mouth and ate away his upper lip.

As a tool, he had been able to bear that pain without a grunt or complaint. Now he was a man, a person, so how could he possibly be any worse? So he strode closer to the claw, inklings of invisible fire still tearing at the world around him to keep him going.

But it just looked at him. Three peach-coloured eyes were staring at him absentmindedly, the crimson sheen that had coated them earlier already faded. They were swirling as they looked at him, pupils swimming aimlessly as it didn’t even muster the smallest defence. It just… Looked. Impassively, swirling, empty.

Reflected in those swirling eyes was only him, a twisting figure that looked down at it. It was watching. Waiting. He felt that the eyes were familiar, the expression.

When he walked up the stairs, when he strode across the roof, when he plummeted, would his eyes have looked like that? The claw was waiting for death, perhaps it had been all along. But if that was the case, why fight back? Why launch the first attack?

He didn’t know. And even if he did, would he understand? He was like a newborn when it came to emotions, it was hard enough just to even attempt understanding those right next to him. Understanding an ancient claw? Futile.

But well, there was at least one thing he understood. How to kill it.

That thing was a claw, a very minor part of a gargantuan whole. And yet it lived. It moved on its own, acted as it pleased, could attack freely. Limbs just didn’t do that. So even if he cut this thing into tiny pieces, who’s to say that a drop of blood or bits and pieces of its flesh wouldn’t just survive?

And yet… Gabriel was confident that he could kill it. For he had something that no one else here had. Akasha. The affinity of demons. Kill or subdue it, cast the spell, and its powers would become yours. Until you drew your last breath, that demon would forever be a part of you. This may just be a claw, but in the end it was a demon, a sentient one at that, so it should work.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

His hand reached out, but the claw still didn’t move. The swirling in its eyes only grew stronger, the distortion of his reflection all the more twisted. His hand landed on its cracked scales.

Cold. Cold. Cold. Cold. Colder than ice, colder than the arctic winds in his old world. When he dunked a prisoner’s head in liquid nitrogen and held it there until all twitching stopped, was this what they felt? That was the coldest thing he knew so that was the closest comparison he could think of. With this, it was no wonder that it could freeze even spirits.

But Gabriel would not freeze, he would be the frost.

"Akasha, Sarash." (Demon, Swallow.)

The swirling in its eyes, his twisted reflection, in the end they became a single whirlpool, indistinguishable from each other.

And then… There was only Gabriel.

There was no eruption of light like when he used Akasha on the lizard-man, no burst of energy, no fire to burn the world. It was quiet, like a summer breeze that blew across the fields. It felt like dandelion seeds caressing his skin, a soft touch that one couldn’t be fully sure was really there.

But it was there, he knew that it was. Creeping up his veins, settling in his organs, pumping with every beat of his heart. Every time his lungs expanded to draw breath, it was there. Every time the stars of mana danced around his heart, it was there. Every time the wind brought a taste of the world to him, it was there.

From now. In the future. Until he drew his last breath, that thing would forever be a part of him. And whether he knew it or not, he had already abandoned a part of his humanity.

He turned his head. There, in the distance, he could see them. The knights of Barong, Caine, Arioch… Alice. She was rushing towards him while the others were taking this chance to catch their breath. The distance was considerable, but he could see them with perfect clarity. He could even see the vapour coming from their mouths as they breathed.

His eyes suddenly hurt so he was forced to close them. When he opened them again his vision had returned to normal, the others nothing more than shapes in the distance. The figure rapidly approaching, it could only be Alice.

He wanted to collapse. It would be easy, he would just have to let his mind wander for a second, let his focus slip for but a moment. The sweet embrace of unconsciousness would greet him and he’d wake up when everything was over. But he couldn’t allow that.

He looked up for a moment. There, nestled within the dull grey clouds, he could still see the hole he made earlier. A tinge of blue could be seen beyond it, as if greeting him. Shades of violet and red tinged the edges of that blue, creeping ever further across it. Was the sun setting perhaps?

"Gabriel!"

A shout reached his ears. She arrived faster than expected, she must have dredged out more of her mana to get here that much faster. His gaze fell from the colourful patch of sky and landed on the colourful woman. Crimson eyes that looked straight at him, violet hair that danced wildly as she moved. She was as pale as paper, ready to collapse at a moments notice. Her eyes still held traces of misery when she looked at him, self-loathing at what she had done.

She stopped a bit away from him, her eyes constantly sweeping across his wounds. He probably looked like a mess right now, ruined and dirty beyond belief. Now that it was over she almost looked hesitant to speak, as if she wasn’t sure what to say and how to explain herself.

But well, an explanation wasn’t why he bothered taking the time to stay conscious. She seemed too scared to step closer, so it fell on him to take a few steps forward. He then allowed his body to just tilt and fall forward. He had… faith.

"Gabriel!"

And indeed, she hurriedly caught him so that he didn’t fall. Nestled within her embrace, he felt that these frigid lands weren’t actually all that cold. Her scent was familiar. It reminded him of their… home if it could be called that. Well, her family was pretty bad, but at least they had that little corner to themselves. In that sense… Yes, perhaps it was home that she smelled of. When he smelled that, he was home.

The sweet tune of unconsciousness was calling to him, but he refused its summons. He wanted to sleep. The scent was lulling him to sleep, it reminded him of how they sometimes huddled as kids. She always clung to him to sleep, as if he was her only safe harbour. But how did he sleep at those times? He didn’t know, he couldn’t see himself sleep. But that scent… It meant home, it meant sleep. It meant… comfort and peace, he knew that now.

When he first gave Alice comfort and peace, he made something for her. What did it taste like? He couldn’t recall, perhaps it was just like ash to his dead senses. But he desired… he wanted to know.

"Alice, I want some cake when we get back. Cake like the one I made for your first birthday."