Zayn drifted into a flightless void, his body numb, his senses gone. He could still feel the phantom sensation of drowning, the suffocating weight of blood filling his lungs, but it was distant, like an echo of something that had already happened.

His vision was black, his hearing absent, but there was movement—faint, indistinct flickers in the darkness. Something was there, watching him.

It wasn't a presence he could explain. It felt familiar, as though it had always been there, just out of sight, waiting for a moment like this. But it also repelled him, a deep, visceral aversion rising within him at the thought of truly facing it. The attraction and disgust clashed violently in his chest, confusing him, but his thoughts didn't linger on the sensation for long.

Instead, his mind turned inward, spiraling into the mess of emotions clawing at him.

"So what if I'm going to die? It's not like this is my first death."

The thought came bitterly, but it was hollow. He didn't believe it. Back then, when he'd been shot in the head, he'd been able to accept it. But why? Why could he face death so calmly then, and not now? The answer crept up on him, unbidden but undeniable.

"It was because I felt like I'd done all I could."

He had convinced himself that he'd reached the end of his rope, that his life had amounted to whatever it could, and there was nothing more to fight for. That after killing that girl, he was done. But was that really how he felt? No. No, that wasn't it. Not entirely.

The truth hit him like a punch to the gut. Back then, he hadn't wanted to die. He'd just stopped expecting anything from life because he never got anything.

He'd told himself it didn't matter because it was easier than admitting the truth.

He wanted more.

Back then, he'd let himself believe the lie because he had no other choice. And then, when the Story had offered him another chance—when he'd been thrown into this hellish world and made a "Character," something he'd always dreamed of—he'd felt something new: hope.

"And now I have it," he realized bitterly. "The chance to be something more. To live as a Character in a world full of stories and possibilities. And what have I done with it?"

He had blamed everyone and everything. The guards, the royal council, the Librarian, the monsters, even the Story itself. And sure, maybe they deserved some of the blame, but deep down, he knew none of it really mattered. Complaining, cursing, raging—it wouldn't change a damn thing.

This didn't mean he felt guilt for blaming those things, instead, he felt disappointed to even have cared that they were or were not at fault.

The world didn't care about his struggles. It didn't care about the endless hours he'd spent chipping away at his forced debt back in the Empire. It didn't care about how he'd buried himself in school and studies, hoping to excel at something, anything, that might give him a chance at a better life. It didn't care about the pain, the humiliation, or the desperation he'd endured.

But he cared.

He cared about the life he'd led, the pain he'd felt, and the fights he'd fought. He cared about the chances he'd missed, the friends he'd never made, the dreams he'd clung to. He cared about the fact that he had died once and was about to die again.

And as long as he cared, none of the rest mattered.

"So why the hell should I just give up and drown?"

That thought burned brighter than any anger, sharper than any pain. He wouldn't accept this—not because the world cared, but because he cared. He wouldn't let himself die again, because that was not what he wanted.

The moment the resolve crystallized in his mind, the presence watching him stirred. It receded—or perhaps magnified. It was as though the thing in the darkness had been dormant until now, waiting for this moment to truly notice him.

Zayn didn't know what it was, and he didn't care. Whatever it wanted, it didn't matter. He had made his choice.

Suddenly, sensation returned, slamming into him like a tidal wave. His body screamed as nerves came back online, raw and frayed from the torment they'd endured. He could feel the monsters still tearing into him, their mandibles ripping his flesh, but he didn't care about the pain.

He could feel it.

Zayn opened his eyes, the crimson haze of the blood-soaked hole flooding his vision. The monsters were still crawling over him, still trying to reduce him to nothing—but he wasn't going to let that happen.

His finger bones, sharpened like daggers, flexed. His muscles tensed, even as they ached and burned. The drowning suffocation in his chest was still there, but it no longer consumed him.

His fingers, stripped to the bone, clenched into a fist. He could feel the pulsing blood around him, the vibrations of the monsters pressing down on him, and the raw determination that burned hotter than any fear.

"I'm not done yet."

And with that, Zayn began to fight.

Zayn’s eyes burned with the sting of blood as he surged into motion, tearing through the swarm of monsters gripping and tearing at his broken body. His movements were feral and unrestrained, driven not by strategy but by sheer defiance.

The crushing weight of the creatures pinning him down, their mandibles ripping through his flesh, and their claws scraping against bone, was no longer a hindrance.

With a guttural roar that bubbled and gurgled in his throat, he wrenched his left arm free. His shattered fingers curled into a claw, driving into the nearest monster’s face. The sickening crunch of its exoskeleton shattering beneath his assault sent a spray of viscous fluids into the surrounding blood. It only spurred him on.

He twisted his body with unnatural speed, slamming his elbow into another creature’s soft underbelly. Its segmented body folded inward with a wet squelch, and he bit down on the next monster in his path, tearing a chunk of its thorax away with his teeth. His mouth filled with the nauseating metallic tang of its blood, but he didn’t care. He swallowed the foul substance and slammed his head forward into yet another creature, splitting it apart like a hammer against brittle glass.

His legs lashed out, knees and shins crushing carapaces and sending ripples of blood through the dense, suffocating pool. The brutality was overwhelming, a cyclone of violence where Zayn used every part of his body—his hands, elbows, knees, even his shoulders—as weapons. His teeth shredded, his bones cracked, but he never stopped.

The thickness of the blood around him did nothing to slow him down. It should have hindered him, suffocating his movements and dragging him down, but it didn’t. Zayn pushed forward with a maddening focus, slashing, stabbing, and breaking his way through the swarm.

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For a moment, the pressure relented. The monsters that had dogpiled him had been slaughtered, and their remains floated lifelessly around him. He seized the chance to move.

Zayn began swimming upward. The disorientation of the blood-filled darkness should have made it impossible to know which direction was up, but he didn’t hesitate. He knew, as surely as he knew the pain coursing through his body, where the surface was.

As he ascended, his fingers and feet collided with something soft and limp. It took him a moment to realize they were corpses. The remains of the other Lower citizens, bloated and torn apart, floated aimlessly in the rising tide of blood. He felt nothing for them, not pity or sadness, only a grim determination to keep moving.

The blood grew lighter, thinner as if stirred by some violent force above. Zayn could feel the pressure of movement pushing through the pool, and he knew he was getting close. With one final, desperate stroke, his arm breached the surface.

The cool night air hit his skin, a sharp contrast to the suffocating warmth of the blood, but relief was short-lived. His chest heaved, trying to suck in air, only for thick gouts of blood to spew from his mouth and nose like a geyser. His head throbbed with blinding pain, but he ignored it. He wiped his eyes clear, finally able to see.

He wasn’t alone.

A monster hurtled toward him, and his instincts screamed to submerge again. He dipped beneath the blood just as the creature’s body splashed past, its momentum sending waves rippling outward. Zayn broke the surface again, turning toward the source of the throw.

Lain.

The teenager struggled to stay afloat at neck level in blood, still fighting off the onslaught of monsters with an efficiency that defied reason. Zayn’s shout carried over the chaos.

"Hey! Stop throwing shit at me, you idiot!”

Lain turned, startled by Zayn’s voice, only to be caught off guard by a monster sinking its mandibles into his shoulder. He hissed in pain but quickly retaliated, driving his elbow into its face and kicking it away. Zayn groaned, knowing what was about to happen.

“Damn it,” he muttered before swimming toward him.

Zayn’s path was chaotic, weaving through waves of blood and carcasses. The monsters still came at him, clawing and biting, but he tore through them with the same ferocity as before.

By the time he reached Lain, they were both surrounded. Without hesitation, Zayn took a position at Lain’s back, the two of them forming a desperate circle of survival.

They fought together in brutal synchronization, Zayn’s savagery matching Lain’s calculated efficiency. Their movements were relentless, each attack a combination of desperation and pure survival instinct. Blood sprayed into the air with every strike, their bodies soaked in the foul crimson tide.

“You threw a damn monster at me!” Zayn shouted between blows, elbowing a creature into the blood before smashing its skull underfoot.

“Thought you were another one of those things crawling out of the blood!” Lain shot back, thrusting a bone shard into the throat of an approaching creature. “Didn’t exactly expect you to come back from that!”

“Well, I’m here, so stop trying to kill me!” Zayn retorted.

Lain grunted in acknowledgment, but their banter was cut short by a loud crash outside the hole. The sound reverberated through the blood, the walls of the pit trembling as if something massive had collided with the ground.

Both teens froze for a split second, their focus torn between their immediate survival and the ominous noise.

“What the hell was that?” Zayn growled, panting heavily.

“No idea,” Lain replied, his voice tight with unease. “But it’s not good.”

Zayn nodded grimly. “We need to get out of here first. Got any bright ideas?”

Lain hesitated, then asked, “Did you come up with anything while you were underwater or should I say underblood?”

“Didn’t need to,” Zayn said, a glint of determination in his eyes. “Remember the plan we talked about while digging this hole?”

Lain’s eyes narrowed. “The one that requires the target to be still or nearby?”

“Exactly.”

“You’d need to give me time to focus,” Lain warned, already doubting the feasibility.

“I’ll give you a minute,” Zayn said firmly.

Lain looked at him, skepticism warring with a flicker of hope. Finally, he nodded. “Fine. Let’s do it.”

Zayn tightened his grip on a monster mandible which he had ripped off at one point and turned toward the approaching swarm. “Then stop talking and start focusing. I’ll handle the rest.”

Lain’s strikes slowed, his focus narrowing as he assessed Zayn’s movements. The teenager fought with a level of ferocity that was almost primal, yet beneath the chaos of his attacks was a clear strategy.

Zayn wasn’t just attacking aimlessly; he used each blow to shove the monsters back, driving them into one another. The creatures tore through their own kind in their mindless frenzy, reducing the pressure on Zayn.

Lain clenched his fists, a flicker of hope rising in his chest. If Zayn could hold them off like this, even for a little while, then maybe he’d have the window he needed. With a deep breath, Lain began to withdraw further, his swings becoming half-hearted deflections rather than decisive kills.

When he saw Zayn still holding his ground, his confidence solidified, and he allowed himself to fully stop attacking, closing his eyes to begin focusing.

At the top of the hole,

The guards had no choice but to engage the tide of monsters that no longer funneled themselves into the pits. Armed and well-rested compared to the desperate Lower citizens, the guards initially found it manageable and almost easy. Their weapons cleaved through the monsters, whose fragile forms shattered under the force of steel and disciplined strikes.

The guard closest to the hole, a man whose name was of no consequence, was cutting down five creatures at once when his world abruptly turned inside out.

A piercing shriek echoed directly into his mind, splitting through his thoughts like a blade. He staggered, his grip on his weapon faltering as his head throbbed with debilitating pain.

Another scream tore through his skull, louder this time, leaving him gasping for breath and teetering dangerously close to the edge of the hole.

Before he could regain his balance, the weight of the monsters pressed against him, shoving him over the edge. He plummeted, expecting a long drop but instead landing with a wet splash into the thick sea of blood that had risen alarmingly high.

Raus struggled to orient himself, the viscous fluid pulling at his limbs and threatening to drag him under. He tried to stabilize, but something grabbed his neck—a hand, strong and unrelenting. It yanked him downward with terrifying force.

Panic set in as Raus thrashed against the unseen attacker, swallowing mouthfuls of blood in his desperation. The creatures tore at his body even as he fought, their claws and fangs ripping into his flesh.

The grip on his neck loosened, but it was too late. His lungs burned, his vision darkened, and his mind slipped into unconsciousness.

Zayn erupted from the blood once more, gasping for air as his hand closed around something hard and crystalline—the guards’ crystals. He glanced toward Lain, who had resumed fighting now that the tide was growing too strong to ignore.

“I got the crystals!” Zayn shouted, his voice hoarse.

“Use the white one!” Lain yelled back without turning, his movements sharp and efficient as he fended off the monsters.

The two boys already knew the purpose of the other crystals apart from the white one so they already knew that if any of them was their best bet at escape it would be the mysterious white one.

As Zayn was ready to pick the white one a sudden thought came to mind.

What if...

Zayn’s eyes flickered to the blue crystal in his hand, its surface faintly glowing with a strange energy. An idea struck him, reckless and bold, and a grin twisted his bloodied face.

“Forget that,” he muttered. “Grit your teeth!”

Lain barely had time to react as Zayn held the blue crystal high, his lips forming strange, guttural words he didn’t fully understand but had memorized after hearing the guards chant them countless times.

The runes etched into their necks, wrists, and ankles ignited in brilliant blue light, startling both of them. Unbeknownst to Zayn and Lain, the runes carved into the bodies of the dead Lower citizens also began to glow, their energy pooling into the blood like a rising tide of power.

“Wait no, what did you—” Lain’s curse was cut off by a blinding flash of electricity.

The blood erupted with arcs of crackling lightning, the current traveling through the viscous liquid with violent force. Every living thing within the pit was caught in the surge. Zayn and Lain screamed as the lightning coursed through their bodies, their muscles locking up, but the monsters fared far worse.

The swarm writhed and convulsed, their bodies bursting as the intense electrical charge traveled through their blood and electrocuted them. The sacs of blood within the creatures exploded in gory showers, splattering the walls of the hole and further thickening the sea of blood.

The air filled with the stench of burning flesh and the high-pitched screeches of dying creatures.

The blood itself began to rise rapidly as the combined volume of the monsters’ ruptured sacs caused it to overflow. Zayn and Lain, still trembling from the residual shocks, felt themselves lifted by the surge, the pool spilling over the edges of the hole in a crimson cascade.

The two teenagers were carried upward by the tide, tumbling over the lip of the pit and spilling onto the ground outside. The flood of blood poured out around them, carrying the remains of monsters and corpses alike.

And just like that, they were out.