“I want to go home,” Jude said simply, as a man who’d made his choice long ago.

Lazaro shifted beside Paris, sadness gleaming in his eyes. “Jude, listen to him,” he urged, stepping forward, pleading. “Come on, dude, it’s…”

“It’s Marta!” Jude stepped forward, trying not to shout. “Your world isn’t my world. My world is Marta. It always has been. Everyone knew it since day one. And the fact that all your tech, all your so-called magical acid mental trip—none of it was used to ensure her safety while I’m out here playing your intergalactic chess game? That tells me two things.”

He took another step closer. “One, you don’t give a fuck. Or two, you don’t know a fuck.”

Jude’s eyes swept across the group, lingering on each face.

The girls stood still with their eyes fixed on some random point on the ground. Not a single sound came out of their mouth.

Lazaro and Patrick exchanged a glance. Their eyes darted then to Jude and back to each other as if silently debating who might dare to speak first—or if speaking at all was even wise.

"I am asking nicely," Jude said, blunt enough to pierce through the invisible walls of hesitation surrounding the group. His words were more than a challenge. They were a warning. "At the point that I am, I will not hesitate to use my ability. Do not—force—my hand. Send me home!"

There was no room for doubt. This wasn’t a plea—it was an ultimatum.

Jude’s gaze snapped to Lazaro, and his stomach tightened as he saw the man’s skin ripple unnaturally, like something beneath the surface was clawing its way out.

They accepted his challenge—option two.

Lazaro’s complexion darkened, his veins bulging as scales erupted across his face and arms. Smoke began to seep from his pores, curling around him like a living shadow.

Patrick’s face was gone, replaced by an expressionless mask as blackened scales spread across his neck and hands. Smoke poured from his body in thick, choking waves, swirling like a storm cloud.

Jude didn’t need to turn around to sense the shift behind him. He could feel it—an oppressive, suffocating energy. He heard the faint crackle of skin splitting and twisting, the broken bones and the low growl that resonated deep in their chest.

His heart sank as his eyes landed on Lucy. Her delicate features were warping, and her soft skin hardened into an inky black carapace. Scales spread across her face, consuming her innocence inch by inch. Her body elongated unnaturally, limbs twisting as smoke began to pour from her body.

Her growl was deeper than any child’s voice should be, vibrating with a feral threat that chilled him to his core. A promise of pure violence.

Her eyes were now molten pools of gold, glowing through the smoke. The sight of her, fully transformed into a black hound exhaling smoke and snarling low in her throat, froze him in place. She was now one of them.

The familiar faces around him had all become Eidolons—dark, monstrous forms he had only ever known as enemies.

And now, they were circling him. The illusion he had been fed on these last weeks was broken.

Jude was surrounded. Each step the creatures took felt calculated. Smoke curled from their hulking forms, staining the arena with an oppressive darkness. The sky above seemed to lose its colour, bleeding into an inky void that blurred the edges of the world.

Jude’s shoulders sagged, his body slack with surrender. His fingers twitched at his sides, brushing against the fabric of his pants as though searching for a bravato he wasn’t sure existed. His breath came shallow, the scent of burning filling his lungs, yet he remained rooted in place.

The creatures moved as one, with their outlines blurred by the swirling smoke. Their glowing eyes pierced the black haze, and gold and red flared like distant stars in a nightmarish galaxy. Jude couldn’t tell one from another—Lazaro’s menacing form, Patrick’s limping manner, even Teresa’s white fur seemed to have given way to black—all melted into the same one abyss.

His mind churned with indecision. Should he raise his fists, challenge the inevitable, and fight for his right to return to the only world that mattered? Or should he let go, sink into the darkness, and hope they would grant him his wish—release, perhaps even death?

The thought slithered through his mind like a venomous whisper. Maybe they’ll end it quickly. Maybe they’ll leave just enough of him for whatever they need.

This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

A sudden force struck Jude from behind, sending him sprawling onto the sandy ground. The impact jarred his body, a sting radiating up his arms as he caught himself. The acrid taste of smoke filled his mouth, and before he could lift his head, the thud of a heavy tail slammed into the dirt inches from his face.

His instincts kicked in, and he rolled to the side, dirt and debris clinging to his sweat-dampened skin. The ground beneath him felt like sandpaper, scraping against his palms and elbows as he scrambled away from the next attack. His breathing quickened, ragged and shallow, his heart pounding in his ears like a war drum.

A massive shadow loomed above him, pulsating with smoke, its silhouette obscured by the darkness. He could feel the heat radiating off its body, the smell of scorched earth, and something primal and wild. Its tail lashed again, striking the ground where he had just been, the force rattling his bones.

Jude’s eyes darted, searching for the others circling him, probing for something familiar, something to ground him in this chaos. Lazaro, he thought, gripping the dirt beneath his fingers. If I can find him… if I can lock into his eyes. He did it before. He could do it again.

Rolling onto his knees, Jude gritted his teeth, his muscles coiled. One chance. One connection. If he could find the right one, maybe, just maybe, he could make this end.

A sudden chant erupted like a tidal wave, crashing over Jude with deafening force. “Fight! Fight! Fight!” The words thundered through the arena, echoing off the walls as if a crowd had materialized out of thin air.

It swallowed everything—the subtle rustle of smoke, the scrape of his boots against the dirt, even his own panicked breaths. The sound was primal, relentless, pulling at some buried instinct in his chest.

Jude’s hand trembled as he wiped the sweat from his brow with his thumb, the salty warmth smearing across his cheek. The sting of it only honed his focus. His eyes locked forward, narrowing on the single Eidolon.

Where did the others go?

The chanting grew louder. Jude shifted his weight, his boots grinding into the dirt as he prepared himself. Every muscle in his body screamed at him to move, act, fight—or flee. But there was nowhere to run, not this time.

The Eidolan’s body was a study in taut readiness, with every muscle beneath its obsidian scales coiled like a loaded spring.

The rise and fall of its chest mirrored Jude’s, each exhalation a hiss of smoke that curled upward and vanished into the void above.

He glanced at its legs, stance, and the slight shift in weight as it adjusted to his pacing. He shifted to the left, keeping his movements slow and his steps nearly silent. Jude’s eyes darted to the ground, searching for anything—rocks, debris, anything that could serve as a weapon or distraction.

Nothing but the barren, cracked earth stretched out beneath him, a battlefield offering no advantage. It wasn't working. Jude couldn't lock his eyes. He couldn’t control the Eidolon—not this Eidolon.

Jude’s breath hitched. He needed a plan, a way to disrupt the predator’s focus—something to force its hand before it could force his. But as the beast crouched lower, its head dipping, smoke spilling from its nostrils in thick, curling ribbons, he realized he might not have time to think.

He tried to steady himself by forcing himself to maintain eye contact with the Eidolon. He forced his focus, pushing the connection to work. He had to make it work, but nothing happened.

No pull. No surge. No bit of control.

The Eidolon stared back, its expression still as stone, save for the searing intensity of its focus. Jude could feel the weight of its gaze pressing into him, testing him, mocking him. A flick of its tail scraped the ground, sending a plume of dust into the air as though it could sense his frustration, his helplessness.

Jude gritted his teeth, the sour taste of failure liquefying in his mouth. Why isn’t this working? His mind raced, replaying every time he’d managed to connect before—every small victory, every glimmer of power he’d seized. Three Eidolans at once, and now—not even one.

His nails bit into his palms as his frustration boiled over. What am I doing wrong? Why now? Why here?

The hound let out a deep, guttural growl. It shifted its stance, muscles rippling as it coiled tighter, poised to strike.

Jude swallowed hard, the dryness in his throat like sandpaper. He tried again, forcing his gaze to remain locked with the creature. He pushed his focus, his will, and every ounce of his intent into the connection.

Nothing.

It fucking didn’t work.

Again!

Jude’s chest rose and fell with uneven breaths as he stepped back, his anger threatening to consume him. The Eidolon didn’t advance, didn’t lunge—it just watched him.

The creature's muscles bunched, and then it surged forward, a shadow streaking across the dim-lit arena. Its claws scraped against the floor’s gravel with a deafening screech before it slammed through the metal railing, sending twisted shards flying like shrapnel.

Jude's breath hitched, his pulse pounding so hard it blurred the edges of his vision. Time slowed as the beast’s massive frame barreled toward him, its gaping maw revealing rows of jagged teeth glistening with venom-like saliva.

A sharp cry erupted from him, not a curse, not even a plea, but a name. "Barbara!"

The static-laden words broke through the chaos.

"How may I help you, Jude?"

The mechanical voice echoed, cold and detached, but for Jude, it was a lifeline. Relief swept over him, heavy and overwhelming, as if he had been holding his breath for hours and could finally exhale. His knees buckled slightly, and his hand shot out instinctively, gripping the jagged edge of a broken railing to steady himself.

"Please disconnect me...”

“Cancel Operation. Logging off Simulation.”

Jude's eyes snapped open, the soft hiss of pressurized air breaking the silence like a warning bell. The hydrogel clung to his skin as the sterile scent of chemicals filled his nostrils, overwhelming yet familiar. He braced himself against the sides of the pod, muscles tense, and with a swift motion, he leapt to his feet, skin pulling away with a wet gloop as the gel sloughed off.

"What the fuck was that?"

It smelled like popcorn.

image [https://i.imgur.com/WVXH6rp.png]