Leo and Pendragon moved cautiously through the dense undergrowth of the forest, the towering silhouette of the massive tree looming above them. In the distance, Rory’s voice cut through the air, loud and defiant.

“Come on, you ugly bastards! Is that all you’ve got? Fight me!” Rory taunted, her voice echoing through the woods.

Pendragon smirked, his sharp teeth glinting. “She’s got guts, I’ll give her that.”

Leo glanced back toward the commotion, hearing the rumble of fiends responding to Rory’s provocation. “Guts? Or maybe a death wish?” he muttered, his tone edged with concern.

“Focus,” Pendragon snapped, his gaze locked on the path ahead. “She’ll be fine. Gasmask is there.”

Leo’s stomach tightened as he remembered Gasmask’s unspoken ability. He had never seen it firsthand, but he had heard enough whispers to know it wasn’t something anyone wanted to be caught near. Moments later, the sound of fiends screeching grew louder, followed by a strange, bone-chilling silence.

“That’s our cue,” Pendragon said, motioning for Leo to follow.

They sprinted toward the base of the tree, finding the hole Rory and Gasmask had scouted earlier. It was barely wide enough for a person to crawl through; the edges slick with a strange, mucus-like substance. Pendragon ducked in first, moving with surprising agility for his size.

“Keep up, Winfield,” he called back, his voice echoing in the cramped tunnel.

Leo followed reluctantly, feeling the cool, slimy walls brush against his arms and legs as he crawled. The tunnel twisted and narrowed at points, making it hard to breathe. The air was heavy with a metallic tang, and the faint, rhythmic pulsing of the walls added to the suffocating atmosphere.

“You sure this is the right way?” Leo asked, his voice strained as he pushed himself forward.

“Shut up and keep moving,” Pendragon growled. “You’d rather go back and join Rory?”

Leo bit back a retort and pressed on. After what felt like an eternity, the tunnel widened, and they emerged into a cavernous interior. Leo froze, his eyes widening in awe and horror.

The space was massive, a surreal network of fleshy tunnels and glowing orbs suspended from the ceiling like grotesque chandeliers. The walls pulsed faintly, as if the tree itself was alive and breathing. Thick tendrils snaked along the ground and up the walls, connecting to the glowing orbs above.

“What the hell is this place?” Leo whispered, his voice barely audible over the eerie hum that filled the air.

Pendragon stood beside him, his sharp eyes scanning the surroundings. “The inner workings of the tree,” he said, his voice low. “This is where the real fun begins.”

Leo followed Pendragon’s gaze to the center of the cavern, where another tree-like structure rose, its bark glistening with a wet, organic sheen. It was smaller than the outer tree but somehow felt more ominous, its roots burrowing deep into the fleshy floor.

“That’s our next target,” Pendragon said, pointing toward the inner tree. “Whatever’s powering this thing, it’s in there.”

The faint sound of movement echoed through the tunnels, and Pendragon’s expression hardened. “Stay close. We’re not alone.”

Leo nodded, his claws ready as they moved deeper into the heart of the tree, the glowing orbs above casting an eerie light on the path ahead.

The deeper they went into the tree’s inner workings, the more unsettling the landscape became. Twisted fleshy tendrils jutted out of the ground like gnarled fingers, and the air smelled of rot and decay. Fiends patrolled in every direction, their grotesque forms illuminated by the faint bioluminescent glow of the lights above. Some crawled on all fours, others slithered, and a few hovered unnaturally, their movements silent but menacing.

Leo whispered, “How the hell are we supposed to get past all of them?”

Pendragon shot him a glare and hissed, “Shut up and follow.”

Moving with a fluid grace, Pendragon led the way, his form blending into the shadows. Leo did his best to mimic his movements, heart pounding as they slipped past one fiend after another. It seemed to be working—until Pendragon stepped on a trap. The soft wet ground beneath him shifted, a grotesque maw opening wide.

Pendragon and Leo fell into its mouth and slid down the esophagus-like tunnel.

Pendragon and Leo plummeted into the gaping mouth of the tunnel, sliding down its pulsating, esophagus-like walls. The air was thick with the stench of decay and blood. They tumbled into a cavernous room deep underground, the size of a football field. The walls are alive with writhing roots connected to a grotesque sea of corpses. The blood from the bodies seeped into the roots, feeding the monstrous tree.

Leo gagged, covering his nose as the rancid smell hit him like a wall. “What the hell is this place?” he muttered, his voice trembling.

“This is the stomach,” Pendragon growled, scanning the room. “It’s feeding. This is how it keeps its children alive.”

Before they could move, the pile of corpses stirred. Something enormous began to rise, a hulking fiend emerging from the carnage. It stood over 20 feet tall, its massive arms dragging the ground like a gorilla. A single, glaring eye dominated its head, and gaping mouths covered its body, gnawing and drooling incessantly.

Pendragon tensed, his claws flexing. “Of course, there’s always a guard dog.”

The fiend roared, shaking the room as it charged at them with terrifying speed. Pendragon didn’t flinch. “Winfield, distraction time!” he barked, grabbing Leo and hurling him toward the beast.

“What the—!” Leo barely had time to react before he collided with the fiend’s massive arm. It swatted him aside like a fly, sending him crashing into the corpses. Pain shot through his body as he groaned, sprawled on the bloody ground.

But Pendragon had already moved. He darted forward with blinding speed, flames igniting in his hands. The fiend’s single eye swiveled to focus on him, but it was too slow. Pendragon launched himself into the air, his wings unfurling, and dove straight into the eye. The fiend shrieked in agony as Pendragon disappeared into its head.

From within, Pendragon unleashed a fiery inferno. Flames erupted from the fiend’s eye socket, consuming it from the inside out. The creature let out a final, guttural wail before collapsing with a thunderous crash, its body convulsing as it died.

Leo struggled to his feet as the ground squelched in an uncomfortably wet sound, his whole body screaming in pain. His ribs felt bruised, maybe cracked, and his calves throbbed where the massive fiend had swatted him away. His claws twitched involuntarily as his regeneration kicked in, but the ache in his muscles didn’t let up. He glared at Pendragon, his anger boiling over.

“What the hell was that for?!” Leo shouted, his voice echoing in the hollow chamber. “You just threw me! What if I died?”

Pendragon turned his head slightly, his smirk visible even from a distance. “You didn’t die, did you? But keep whining, and I’ll make sure you wish you had.”

“Are you serious?!” Leo barked, his hands clenched into fists. “You think this is a joke? I’m out here risking my neck for this mission, and you treat me like I’m expendable!”

Pendragon sighed, his wings flaring out. “Risking your neck? Kid, all you’ve done so far is complain and panic. If you want to survive, you better stop acting like a rookie and start thinking like a soldier. Consider this a lesson.”

Pendragon flew back through the tunnel, leaving Leo speechless. “You’re on your own for a bit, Winfield. Let’s see if you’ve got what it takes,” he called out as his silhouette disappeared into the darkness.

Leo’s anger turned to panic as he heard the growls and skittering of fiends crawling up from the corpses below him. “Wait—what?! Pendragon, get back here! You can’t just leave me here!” His shouts went unanswered, and the sound of approaching fiends grew louder.

The first one grabbed his leg from underneath—a small, wiry creature with too many limbs and sharp claws. It dug into his flesh with jagged teeth. Leo kicked furiously, knocking it away, but another jumped onto his back, clawing at his shoulders. He slashed at it, cutting deep, but more came. They swarmed him like a pack of ravenous animals, piling on top, biting and tearing.

“Get off me!” he screamed, his voice cracking as panic surged. He sliced through one fiend’s throat, sending black ichor spraying, but another clamped down on his arm, its teeth sinking deep. The pain was unbearable, and he could feel his strength fading under the sheer number of them.

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Leo’s screams pierced the suffocating darkness, but no answer came. “Pendragon! Someone! Help me!” he shouted, his voice cracking under the weight of fear and desperation. The fiends swarmed him, their claws ripping into his flesh, their teeth tearing at his limbs. Every nerve in his body screamed in agony, but worse was the suffocating weight of helplessness that gripped him.

This is it, isn’t it? He thought bitterly. This is how I die? Torn to shreds, useless, forgotten. What the hell am I even good for? I can’t fight. I can’t lead. I can’t even survive.

His vision blurred, the fiends’ grotesque faces becoming indistinct shapes in the shadows. Then, a flicker—an ember of something deep within. A message. “Embrace the pain, feel the fire”. Fire. Heat. The sensation of rage, of hunger. His blood, instead of freezing in fear, began to boil.

No, not yet.

A growl escaped his lips, low and guttural, unlike anything he’d heard himself make before. His skin felt like it was burning from the inside out, a fiery pulse coursing through his veins. The fiends clawing at him recoiled, their shrieks of pain filling the air as the heat emanating from his body seared their flesh. They scrambled away in fear.

Leo’s breaths came in ragged bursts, but his fury had consumed him now. He dropped to all fours, his claws digging into the fleshy ground as he moved like a predator. His movements were erratic, his form flashing in and out of visibility. One moment, he was a blur; the next, he was striking, slicing through the fiends like ribbons.

And then came the hunger. It clawed at him, gnawed at his insides like a starving beast. Without hesitation, he grabbed one fiend and tore into it with his teeth. The taste was vile, but the hunger demanded more. He ripped and feasted. The act was both repulsive and invigorating. Each bite brought a strange rush—strength, clarity, knowledge. He could see it all now: the intricate network of this place, the sprawling, labyrinthine structure mimicking the roots and branches of a tree. It was alive, a grotesque organism, pulsing with the life of countless fiends.

But there were too many. He tore through them, yet more emerged. They poured in like an endless tide, clawing and biting, each more feral and determined than the last.

The ground beneath him rumbled violently. A deep, guttural roar echoed through the chamber, shaking the walls. From the mound of corpses beneath him, six massive arms sprouted, their grotesque size and sinewy strength dwarfing everything around them. Each arm ended in jagged claws, large enough to crush him whole.

Before Leo could react, the arms shot forward, slamming into him with the force of a collapsing building. The impact drove him to the ground; the air forced from his lungs in a sharp gasp. The weight was unbearable, pinning him in place. He struggled, his claws scraping against the massive limb holding him down, but it was like trying to cut through stone.

“Damn it… no…” he growled through gritted teeth, his mind racing. He tried to summon the fire again, to burn brighter, to unleash the rage, but it flickered weakly. His body trembled, straining against the overwhelming force. The crushing weight grew heavier, pressing the air from his lungs, and his vision began to darken.

Not like this, not now! His thoughts screamed, but his body refused to obey. He could feel himself slipping, the edges of consciousness fraying as the shadows closed in.

And then...

The darkness gave way to light, but not the kind he expected. Leo found himself in a surreal art museum. The walls stretched impossibly high, adorned with massive canvases of grotesque, macabre art. Each painting depicted horrifying scenes of death and consumption—people being eaten alive, their flesh torn from their bones. Blood ran like rivers across the frames, dripping onto the floor. It was sickening, yet captivating.

He stood frozen, his breath hitching as he scanned the room. In the center, beneath a grand chandelier of bones, a man stood at an easel. He wore a vibrant red suit, its sharp tailoring almost as unnerving as the blood splattered across its edges. The man painted with precision, each brushstroke vivid and alive, forming fresh horrors on the canvas.

The man turned, his face splitting into a wide, predatory grin. “Ah, Leo. Hello again. Come crawling back for help, have we?” His voice was smooth, lilting like a musician playing an unfamiliar yet hypnotic tune. “It certainly looks like you’ll need it.”

Leo’s fists clenched. “Who the hell are you?” he demanded, though his voice wavered. “And why the hell do you keep showing up?”

The man chuckled, low and amused. He tapped the end of his paintbrush against the easel. “Who am I? A fair question. I suppose you could say I was the Devourer before you. Well,” he mused, his eyes twinkling with dark humor, “the previous, previous Devourer. But by far the most interesting one. The strongest. The most... refined.”

Leo took a step back, his unease growing. “You were... human?”

“Oh, absolutely. Just like you, once upon a time.” The man gestured grandly at the surrounding paintings. “I was an artist. A visionary. My canvas was California, back when the world was obsessed with nuclear annihilation. They should’ve been more concerned about me, of course.” His grin widened. “After I was gifted this body, my art reached heights unimaginable. Death became my medium. My legacy spread across the West Coast, a symphony of carnage.”

The man approached, his eyes gleaming with predatory glee. “You know, Leo, I’ve been watching you. You’re... unimpressive. Weak. But there’s potential in you. Potential I’d like to see flourish. I could take over right now, end this little dance with Pendragon, kill him, and walk away unscathed. But where’s the fun in that? No, I want to see you blossom. From an innocent little virgin into a fully realized killer.”

Leo felt bile rise in his throat. “I’m nothing like you.”

The man chuckled again; the sound chilling. “Oh, you will be. Your current state makes escaping death seem impossible. Here, I’ll offer you a gift. A lesson, if you will.” He gestured toward a nearby painting of waves crashing against a jagged cliff. “Tell me, Leo, how much do you know about physics?”

Leo blinked, surprised. “Uh... Newton’s three laws of motion? That’s about it.”

The man laughed, a genuine, almost joyous sound. “Oh, this is going to go right over your head, but bear with me. Think of it as a crash course. Let’s talk about light. For centuries, scientists debated: is light a wave or a particle? Turns out, it’s both. Light behaves as both a wave and a particle, depending on how you observe it. Fascinating, isn’t it?”

Leo frowned. “What does that have to do with—”

The man raised a hand, cutting him off. “Here’s the kicker. Matter—what you think of as solid, immovable particles—has wavelike properties, too. Ever heard of de Broglie waves? No? Of course not. Matter, my dear boy, is no different from light.”

Leo’s confusion deepened. “What the hell are you getting at?”

The man’s grin turned predatory again. “Don’t you see? If matter can behave like a wave, what’s stopping you from... passing through it?”

Leo’s eyes widened as the pieces clicked. “You mean... I can phase through solid objects?”

“Not just solid objects. All matter, including the water you drink, the air you breathe, the fire that burns you, it will all simply pass you by.” The man clapped his hands, delighted. “Your so-called invisibility? It’s not just about phasing through light or sound. It’s about phasing through all waves.”

Leo’s gaze dropped, his mind reeling. “I... I don’t know if I can do that.”

The man leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Oh, you can. Imagine yourself untethered. Picture yourself free from all the cares, worries, and burdens placed upon you. Feel as though everything had entered… the void”

The museum began to fade, the man’s laughter echoing around him. “Good luck, my little killer. Let’s see what you’re truly made of.”

The world snapped back into focus. The hands were still crushing him with an unbearable weight. But now, something had shifted inside him. Leo clenched his jaw, gritting through the pain. He focused, imagining his own freedom from the tethers that cage him. From the Cleaners to his fiendish form, to even his own solid matter body. He pictured the waves, the particles, all becoming one.

And then he felt it.

The hands simply passed through him like air, slamming into the ground of corpses. Leo phased, his body intangible, slipping through its grasp. He stood, the fiend’s arms moving back up to attempt another hit.

His chest felt hollow and weightless. He was no longer tethered to the forces surrounding him. He could simply phase through it. The weight of gravity on his uncomfortably long body was gone. This is what he was talking about. This was true freedom.

The other fiends rushed toward him in a frenzy as the colossal hands descended, their grotesque fingers crashing through the air with devastating force. But none of it mattered. Leo moved effortlessly, gliding between their strikes as if gravity itself had lost interest in holding him down. Claws slashed and jaws snapped, but they all met only empty space. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t falter.

A massive hand plummeted toward him, its grotesque, sinewy surface glistening with black liquid. Leo didn’t even look up. As it passed through him, the hand itself split apart, its flesh and bone severed in a clean, impossibly cut. Black liquid gushed out like a fountain, pooling beneath the writhing remnants. Another hand followed, then another, until all six monstrous appendages fell upon him in unison. The result was the same—each was cleaved apart in the air, their severed pieces collapsing uselessly to the ground in a symphony of thuds.

The fiends surrounding him hesitated for a fraction of a second, their feral frenzy dampened by confusion and fear. It didn’t last. They lunged again, their grotesque forms scrambling over one another to reach him, but Leo danced through their chaos with unsettling grace. He floated just above the ground, his movements so fluid they defied logic. The fiend’s claw pierced his chest, finding only air, and its maw clamped down on the empty space where his arm was.

A hulking fiend, its bark-like hide hardened into a natural armor, charged toward him with earth-shaking steps. Leo let it come, his grin sharp and predatory. As the creature swung its massive arms, he melted into its torso like mist. The fiend let out a guttural, terrified screech as its body convulsed, and then Leo emerged—clawing his way out from its back, ripping flesh and viscera apart with effortless precision. The beast collapsed in a heap, its insides spilling onto the ground in a steaming, grotesque pile.

More fiends descended upon him, driven by desperation and blind rage, but they were nothing to him. A dozen claws and limbs struck at him, yet each attack sliced harmlessly through his intangible form. His claws, however, were far from powerless. With every step, every strike, another fiend fell, their bodies tearing apart as if made of paper. He moved with purpose, his attacks so precise they felt almost surgical, cutting through sinew and bone with terrifying ease.

Above the carnage, a remaining hand attempted one last desperate strike, its massive shadow covering the battlefield. Leo leaped toward it, phasing through its initial swing before solidifying just long enough to unleash a devastating slash. The hand split cleanly in two, its severed halves crashing to the ground with a wet, echoing thud.

The fiends faltered. Their numbers dwindled, their ferocity replaced by panic. But Leo didn’t stop. He was faster than them, lighter than air, a phantom among mortals. Each motion was a blend of instinct and precision, as if his body had become a perfect machine of destruction. His claws raked through the last of them, their twisted forms collapsing into lifeless heaps around him.

When it was done, the ground was a battlefield of carnage, littered with shattered hands and mutilated fiends. Blood soaked the earth, pooling in thick, dark puddles that reflected the faint, eerie glow of the pods above. At the center of it all stood Leo, his chest rising and falling, a faint smile playing at the edges of his lips.

In the back of his mind, he heard the sound of applause. A slow clap of approval sent a shiver down his spine. He looked at his bloodied claws, flexing them as if testing their strength, and nodded to himself. He was satisfied with his work.

Leo tilted his head upward, where Pendragon had flown ahead. With a thought, he floated into the air, the sensation as natural as breathing. The fiends below faded into the distance, their bodies left as silent proof of his power.

The glow of the tree’s inner lights cast eerie shadows on his path, but Leo didn’t care. He felt invincible. For the first time in a long time, he felt alive.