It’s bitter. I’d forgotten what the sensation of taste is like with my time spent here. My tongue is dry and cut in lines from dehydration, starvation. But I’ve gotten my first bite, and with it comes a spurting fountain of scalding blood that does more to relieve my throat than burn it.

My teeth sink even further as I gulp, the burning liquid flowing down into me, hot, but it’s what I need. My body afloat, my legs flailing above my head as the continuous blast of energies swirl around me.

A reverberating roar threatens to throw me off but I tighten my grip, eyes shut and unbothered by the struggles and echoing screams. My only concern is focused on absorbing the bittersweet nectar of... of…

Snapping to my senses, I find myself at the center of a whirling cyclone of fire, brimstone, and lava. My hands squeeze into the tusked Demon’s thick flesh all while it roars, exclaiming pain caused by my little feast. Swallowing the last sludge of blood, I worry about losing my grip and getting tossed into the cyclone but discover that its fat arms can’t reach me.

Blasts of chaotic red mist spills from where I’ve bitten into the Demon and slams against its attempts to grab me, its own power working against it.

Before I can stop to wonder how any of this is possible, its head begins to heat up until it burns my lips off. I have no choice but to let go of its skull. The burning winds pick me up, my hair whipping in the breeze as I’m tossed through the torrent of fiery elements and launched out in another direction.

I’m whipped into the ground several paces away from the chaos of fire and Demons. The hard igneous rock caves in under the weight of my fall and I groan, muffling a scream of pain—my lips burnt, fingers strained by the vice grip I held on the Demon’s head, and my back which was used more or less to break rock.

Gritting through the pain, I find that the lines of organized “pre-Demons” have devolved into chaos. Everyone is taking their chance to escape a fate similar to those before them. Dragonborns skitter off as dwarves try their best not to get trampled or caught by the pig-winged Demons whipping and killing indiscriminately.

But few are successful. The giant Demons summon their minions and ilk to suppress the chaos. Grotesquely shaped insects and shapeless, green, acid blob Demons launch out into the mess. The green blobs swallow us pre-Demons or Deaders, and bipedal insects pick apart more of us, tearing limbs and smacking down runners with parts from their last kill.

Moreover, it’s obvious the giant Demons also have magic at their disposal. Blasts of acid reach hundreds of Deaders at once, melting them to nothingness as hordes of flying, frothing mice drop balls of acid into the chaos. The Deaders and Demons alike scream through their rage and struggles, but despite the overwhelming number of Deaders, it’s clear who’s coming out on top of this sudden skirmish.

Scrabbling to my feet I smell burnt flesh—not unusual, considering what’s unfolding before my eyes, but the steam from this is right in front of me. It takes me a second to realize the flesh is mine, my burnt-off lips growing back like nothing ever happened to them, steaming as they re-form.

“That’s impo—No... anything is possible now.”

Staring back at the scene of chaos, I notice the tusked Demon is still enveloped in a torrent of flames, its comrades beside it not bothering to pay it any attention. Instead they grab at Deaders, the blob of acid eating up the most with its tendrils while the insect sends out hordes, capturing and returning Deaders to the waiting mandibles of the long centipede-like Demon.

The acid rain is a stone’s throw away from where I’ve landed, and so is the chaos. Some Deaders have made it past where I stand even now, running deep into the deserts behind me. It would be foolish not to follow their lead.

Turning tail, I press my feet against the ground and take off faster than I intended or expected. Caught off guard, I come to a halt and tumble into some other Deader.

“Muk tul ya!” they scream and shove me off. They scramble to stand but not before their Crystal, embedded in their chest the same as mine, catches my eye. They’re a reptilian creature, a long snout with rows of teeth protruding from the sides.

I can beat it.

The thought isn’t mine, and I know it at an instant. Intrusive thoughts and memories were commonplace on the Wall, but this isn’t even a thought brought on from a past life. The growling, demanding sensation that rushes through with the thought... this is hunger.

Though my stomach sits warm with the blood and power of the tusked Demon, I’m still thirsty. My chest burns as I stare dumbfounded at the Lizardfolk’s glowing Pink Crystal. A sense beyond me tells me it’s nowhere as filling as what I tasted from the tusked, but I should have a taste anyway.

“Grrr.” Growling down at me, sneering with its fangs peeking clear behind curled lips, the Lizardfolk seems to have gotten the same idea.

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In a heartbeat, it lunges at me and we spill into a roll, inhibitions lost, civility abandoned. All that remains is a thirst, a hunger for flesh and the power of the Crystal beating at our chests.

My Crystal beams a crimson light, filling me up with power, strength beyond what I’m used to. Empowered, I set my grip on the Lizardfolk’s neck and slam it into the hard, burnt igneous rock hard enough that cracks spread through it. It coughs, gasps, and rasps to breathe again, clawing at the arm pressing it down. Ignoring the gashes its claws leave, I straddle it, rendering it immobile under my weight.

Directed by instinct, I raise my free hand and it flushes with the cyrstal’s power. With it I slash across the Lizardfolk’s face, spilling blood and tearing out chunks of flesh, shredding through bone and tearing it apart to the point that its snout is no more than an overgrown nose.

Sputtering, drowning in its blood, the mangled Lizardfolk still manages to struggle. My eyes narrow at it, annoyed at its kicking and clawing. My hand fills with strength again and I squeeze, pressing down on it until its eyes bulge, its tongue flaps out, and blood spurts in my face.

With an audible burst, my grip destroys the Lizardfolk’s head, the remnants of its throat in my hands. Filled with thirst, I lick it off my fingers, then grab the bloated, severed head and squeeze it above my open mouth. Unlike the tusked Demon, its blood is smooth and thin, almost too thin. It slides down my throat and I lose myself in its taste, awakening only when there are only a few drops left.

Disappointment overwhelms me as I toss the drained head away, but I remember I’ve got a whole body left. A heat thrums beneath me, and, licking my lips, I pick at the glowing Pink Crystal but stop before I go any further.

“W-what are these…”

Staring at my hands, I have trouble recognizing them. My fingernails are no more—in their place are strong, thin, pointed claws. I blink and remember slashing away at the Lizardfolk’s face with these claws; even now bits of flesh hang on them.

Despite the horror, I sense a growing compulsion to lick it off, thoughts in my head screaming at how I’ve wasted so much... blood. Licking my lips, I find something else, another bit of alarm. Bringing a clawed finger to my mouth, I can tell from the touch that whatever’s protruding through my lip and out from my gums is no regular tooth.

Taking a deep breath to regain my composure and control over my thoughts, I stare at the claws protruding out of my fingers and feel at the fangs hanging out of my mouth.

The thrumming stream of power flowing to my hands and jaw from the Crystal in my chest tells me that it’s the source of the change.

“Ah!” I startle as the Lizardfolk’s body jerks and twitches underneath me even without the direction of its head.

“It’s not dead yet... not completely.”

It’s hard to focus with the raging roars behind me, the stampede of Demons and Deaders, the whipping, and the pained screams caused by acid, fire, and disembowelment. But I manage and let the flow of power be all I sense.

Earlier it was all by instinct, an instinct I hadn’t realized I had. But now I’m refining it. It’s a stream of power, pumping throughout my body. My eyes close and I poke at it, tell it to curl back, and it does. It recedes away from my extremities and pools at the center; my limbs fall limp at my side, and my chest hums and burns.

I examine my hands again. The claws are gone. But my chest is glowing a bright crimson, beating with my heart. With a breath of relief, the power bottled up in the Crystal floods back out, energizing me once more.

“I can control this thing.”

Focusing on the power within the Crystal, I draw it out, commanding it to flow down into my arm. Watching as it passes, I notice my arm bulk up, veins bulging and muscle expanding with each pump. Sending it down into my hands, to my fingernails, I wait, filled with anticipation to see those claws rise again.

…

Nothing. Why?

I don’t understand why, but I feel an ache in my chest. Regardless, I can’t sustain the flow of power from it. The crimson light dims, turning a shade lighter, and I panic.

“I should have taken the Crystal before the blood!”

Without pausing to think through it, I plunge my arm through the still-heaving chest of the Lizardfolk underneath me and snatch its Pink Crystal out. It’s a lighter shade than it was earlier—I suspect the Crystal’s power is what’s keeping the Lizardfolk’s body alive.

Not anymore though.

Once the Crystal is removed from its chest, the Lizardfolk’s trembling and head-breathing stops. No more life remains in it.

As I get off the Lizardfolk, its Crystal glowing a soft pink in my hand, a question blurs my view.

[Pink Soul Crystal]- Lvl.1(0.9esq)

[Absorb] [Destroy]

I’m quick to notice the change in my stat. My Pink has transformed to a Crimson, which is likely more to do from what I absorbed from the tusked Demon, and so has the esq beside it. The Crystal I’m currently holding has a rather meagre 0.9esq. It’s nothing compared to the boost the tusked gave me, but there’s a pattern forming now, and I figure this esq is as important as the Crystal’s color.

With little time to consider my options, I decide to absorb the power remaining within it, and it fades from solid to gas in my hand. The Pink gas rushes toward my chest, and I can’t help but cry out with delight as it rushes into my Crystal.

“Oh wow… I’ll need more.”

But the chaos is getting closer. Deaders run past me, some stopping to engage others, devouring the corpses left behind in a fit of ravaging hunger and thirst. I know I can’t stay here.

There’s only one way to go now. Forward.

Ahead are the desert dunes, a sandstorm spinning in the distance. This is the domain of the insect Demon, the one sending out minions to disembowel my fellow Deaders.

No... not Deaders. This is... this is Reais.

Reais, the home to all that’s demonic, and until I can get back to where I came from, before the Wall, before any of this madness, this will be my home.

I’m a Demon.

Resolved, I run into the harsh desert, careful to keep my distance from the other escapee Demons, who are likely hungry and thirsty like I am. They’ll probably attack whoever’s next to them like the Lizardfolk did. I’m not so confident about my chances in an all-out brawl, especially not against the big ones.

The main section of desert is still some ways away, but even from this distance, I’m hit by painful waves of hot sand, scratching and peeling at my exposed skin.

Grunting to myself, I ponder, Does Reais have any clothes, or will I be reduced to wearing the skin of my foes?