Zayn groaned as he lay sprawled on the blood-soaked ground, the sticky liquid clinging to his body and face. Beside him, Lain tried to push himself up, his body trembling from exhaustion and the aftershocks of the electric surge they had endured. But he was too weak to do so and just returned to the ground.
The gush of blood had carried them out of the pit, finally depositing them on solid ground.
For a moment, there was nothing but the constant sound of shouts and chitters of the monsters nearby. Zayn glanced around, his sharp eyes taking in the grim scene just a few feet around him.
Corpses were strewn across the bloodied area—remains of the Lower citizens and shredded monsters alike. Many of the bodies had been forced out of the hole by the rising blood, though Zayn was certain there were still more buried within the pool below.
No monsters were nearby, granting the two boys a brief reprieve. Zayn took the opportunity to think back to the desperate plan they had concocted during their grueling hours of forced labor.
When they had been made to dig the pits, their bodies barely their own, Zayn and Lain managed to share whatever information they had during their time of mental communication.
Their biggest challenge at that time was the lack of control over their bodies. Zayn had held his deduction that they would regain their autonomy eventually, but Lain had been more skeptical, forcing them to devise a plan that accounted for their limitations.
As they pooled their knowledge of the crystals carried by the guards, they realized one glaring gap in their understanding: the white crystal. Unlike the others—red for setting on fire, blue for electrocuting, and others with more insidious effects—the white crystal had never been used in front of them. Its function was a mystery, but its presence and how they acted with it suggested it was important and possibly their safest bet.
The challenge was getting their hands on it. Their first plan hinged on influencing a guard to use it on their behalf. Lain's ability to project his thoughts into others' minds seemed like a possible avenue, but it relied on the guards manually interacting with the crystals, which turned out to be very improbable as the other guards would notice and possibly stop this action.
The second plan was riskier but potentially more effective. Zayn theorized that if Lain could disrupt a guard's mind, causing them enough pain, they may fall into the pit if they were close enough. Once in the pit, a guard would be vulnerable to the Lower citizens—or at least their bodies and possessions could be exploited. Lain had hesitated, concerned about how much the plan required uncertainties to take place.
From the guard being close enough for him to affect their mind to somehow falling into the hole without any of their nearby colleagues stopping them.
But they were desperate and possibly stupid.
They had no clear way of knowing if the plan would work, but as events unfolded, it became their only viable option.
And how fortunate they were for it to fall in place like that. Or how unfortunate did the guard need to be for them to be in that exact situation?
"Why didn't you use the white crystal?" Lain asked suddenly, his voice hoarse but steady. His eyes bore into Zayn, clearly unsettled by the electrocution they'd endured.
Zayn let out a short laugh, wiping some of the congealing blood off his face. "Because I didn't know what it would do," he admitted. "And I figured those things piling on each other in that mess gave us a chance to kill as many as possible. The blood sacs exploding and flooding the hole? That was just a bonus."
Lain raised an eyebrow, impressed despite himself. "I'll give you that—it was smart. You were able to kill all of them at once and get us out so getting electrocuted was worth it."
Zayn sighed, "Though, I didn't even know how to use the white crystal in the first place," he confessed. "We've never seen anyone activate it, so how was I supposed to know what to do?"
Lain stared at him for a long moment, wanting to call him out for not knowing but stopped before exhaling in defeat. "Fair point," he muttered. "Still, next time, try not to gamble with our lives."
Zayn nodded and said nothing, letting the silence settle between them.
Their brief moment of calm was shattered by a sudden tremor, a violent vibration that rippled through the ground beneath them. Both boys snapped to attention, their gazes darting around as they tried to locate the source.
"What now?" Lain muttered, his voice tense.
Zayn's eyes scanned their surroundings further, his breath catching as he took in the chaos unfolding at the base of the mountain.
He stood a few paces from Lain, his chest heaving as he took in his companion’s condition. Lain's body bore the marks of battle—countless bite wounds marred his skin, and ragged tears in his uniform revealed shallow gashes and bruises beneath. Yet, for all the chaos they had endured, none of his injuries seemed serious or debilitating.
It didn’t make sense.
Zayn had seen Lain fight. He hadn’t just been holding his ground; he had actively thrown himself into the fray, tearing through the monsters like a seasoned warrior. The lack of serious wounds made Zayn’s brow furrowed in suspicion.
“How the hell are you in one piece?” Zayn asked, his tone equal parts impressed and wary.
Lain glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “I could ask you the same thing—actually, I probably should before we go any further.”
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Zayn frowned. “What do you mean?”
Lain gestured toward him, his expression grim. “You haven’t exactly looked in a mirror, have you?”
Zayn paused, confused, before glancing down at his body. What he saw made his stomach twist.
His flesh—what little remained of it—was a mess of shredded muscle and sinew. His ribcage was almost entirely exposed, the remnants of his chest cavity clinging to his frame like tattered strings. He could see his own heart, beating with a disturbingly steady rhythm amidst the ruins of his torso. His arms and legs fared no better; bones jutted out at odd angles, barely held together by the wiry remains of his muscles. His internal organs were visible in grotesque detail, some torn, others pulsating weakly.
The only part of him untouched was his face. Blood dripped from his hair and streaked down his features, his eyes red and stinging but still functional.
Yet, for all the horror of his appearance, Zayn felt… strange. He was in unimaginable pain, yes, but his mind was unnervingly clear.
“I look like a zombie,” he muttered, his voice hollow with disbelief. Memories of studying historical databooks about the undead flickered through his mind, the grotesque illustrations of decayed corpses now disturbingly relatable.
Lain grimaced but didn’t deny it. “I don't know what that is but I am sure you're putting it lightly,” he said. “How the hell are you even standing, let alone talking? You should be dead ten times over.”
Zayn shook his head. “I don’t know. I feel pain, but it’s not… stopping me. My mind feels fine. Weird, but fine.”
Lain stared at him for a moment longer, his gaze unreadable. Then, as if brushing off the absurdity of the situation, he waved a hand dismissively. “Well, you’re alive. That’s what matters.”
Zayn narrowed his eyes, stepping closer. “Yeah, but what about you? You’ve got scratches and bruises, but nothing serious. You’ve been fighting nonstop. How are you not torn apart?”
Lain shrugged, though the motion was stiff with fatigue. “Guess I’m just lucky.”
Zayn didn’t buy it. He remembered the way Lain moved during the fight—his strikes were precise, his movements fluid and unnaturally efficient. It wasn’t just skill; it was something more.
“You fight like no one I’ve ever seen,” Zayn said, his tone accusatory. “You’re hiding something.”
Lain glanced at him, his expression darkening for a moment before he looked away. “We’ve all got secrets,” he said flatly. “And now’s not the time to share them.”
Zayn opened his mouth to argue but stopped when another tremor shook the ground beneath them. Both boys instinctively braced themselves, their previous conversation forgotten as their attention shifted to their surroundings.
The area around them was a nightmare. Blood-soaked earth stretched in every direction, littered with the remains of the Lower citizens, the monsters, and the guards. The once-organized chaos of the mountain’s base was now pure pandemonium.
Despite the grim scene, Zayn couldn’t help but find a grim sense of relief. “We’re still alive,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Better than most.”
Lain nodded, though his expression remained tense. “For now. But something tells me it’s about to get worse.”
As if on cue, another violent quake rippled through the earth, and the distant sound of something massive shifting echoed ominously through the blood-soaked air.
Both boys exchanged a glance, their weariness momentarily forgotten as adrenaline surged through their veins. Whatever was coming, they knew it wasn’t going to be good.
Zayn and Lain crouched low on the blood-soaked ground as they moved further from their original spot, their eyes scanning the chaos around them. The base of the mountain was a sea of movement, teeming with beetle-like monsters whose grotesque sacs of blood pulsed like diseased hearts. They crawled and skittered in every direction, their movements unnervingly synchronized as they chased down anything alive.
From the top of the peakless mountain, more monsters continued to pour down in an unrelenting wave, their glossy carapaces reflecting the hellish glow emanating from the mountain's cracks. The air was thick with the sound of chittering mandibles, the wet squelch of blood, and the occasional screams of the guards.
The guards, who had once stood watch with a sense of detached superiority, were now locked in battle. Their precise and disciplined fighting was a stark contrast to the frenzied chaos around them. Blades slashed, spears pierced, and the air crackled with bursts of energy from crystals wielded in desperation.
Zayn’s eyes narrowed as he observed them. Their movements were methodical, almost mechanical, as they fought off the creatures. Yet, he could see the cracks in their resolve.
Despite their skill, the sheer number of monsters was overwhelming. Every swing of a sword, every thrust of a spear, was accompanied by a growing sense of dread.
The guards fought not with courage but with grim determination as if they knew they were delaying the inevitable.
“This is insane,” Lain muttered, his voice low but tense.
Zayn nodded, his gaze shifting toward the mountain. The jagged cracks running through its surface glowed an ominous red, the light spilling out like molten lava.
It wasn’t just heat emanating from the cracks, though—there was something else, a presence.
It was the same presence Zayn had felt when he was on the brink of death. A cold shiver ran down his spine as he realized it was stirring, its awareness growing stronger with each passing moment. His instincts screamed at him that whatever was inside the mountain was awakening.
“What the hell is that…?” Zayn whispered, his voice barely audible over the chaos.
Lain followed his gaze, his expression darkening. “Nothing good,” he replied.
Zayn’s eyes darted back to the hole they had crawled out of. It was now filled to the brim with blood, its surface rippling with faint movement. His stomach churned, and an idea struck him like a lightning bolt—a realization so sudden and so certain that it left no room for doubt.
“We need to run,” Zayn said urgently, turning to Lain.
Lain frowned. “Run? Why? What’s going on?”
“It’s hard to explain, but we have to leave now!” Zayn insisted, his voice rising with panic.
Lain’s eyes narrowed. “Zayn, running isn’t exactly an option.” He pointed toward the mountain.
Zayn followed Lain’s hand and saw the black monolith halfway up the slope, its surface glowing with intricate purple runes. The monolith radiated an oppressive energy that made his skin crawl.
“That thing will kill us if we try to escape,” Lain reminded him. “We can’t just run. We need to deal with it first.”
Zayn clenched his fists, his mind warring with his instincts. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to flee, but he couldn’t ignore the truth in Lain’s words.
Still, the realization about the holes clawed at his mind, demanding to be voiced. “Lain,” Zayn began, his voice trembling, “those holes we were forced to dig—they’re part of a ritual. They needed them to be filled with blood, and now they almost are. We helped fill one and the others would be filled soon.”
Lain froze, his expression shifting from confusion to shock. “A ritual? For what?”
“For whatever’s in that mountain,” Zayn replied, his voice urgent. “It’s almost awake, and we can’t let it finish.”
For a moment, Lain stared at him, his eyes wide with disbelief. Then, to Zayn’s astonishment, Lain sighed and rubbed his chin in thought.
“So that’s what all of this was for,” Lain said, his tone almost nonchalant.
Zayn blinked, stunned. “Are you serious right now? Did you hear what I just said?”
Before Lain could respond, a figure emerged in the distance. Standing solitarily amidst the chaos, the lead guard stared at them with an intensity that sent a chill through Zayn’s bones.
In one hand, the guard held a gleaming sword, its blade stained with the ichor of countless monsters. The blood-drenched battlefield seemed to fall away around him as his gaze locked onto the two teenagers.
Zayn and Lain exchanged a glance, the unspoken tension between them momentarily forgotten. Whatever the lead guard intended, it wasn’t going to be good.