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The first thing I felt upon waking was the rancid stench – blood, rot, decay, everything fetid that lingered in the aftermath of death. My head throbbed, pounding from the inside like a hammer, and I groaned as I grabbed it, the pain flaring every time I moved.
As fragments of memory started piecing themselves back together, snapping me to the moment of that fight, that final desperate stand against the monsters.
I managed to sit up, chuckling dryly as I inspected myself. My hands brushed over my stomach, my sides, my arms – every part of me where those beasts had clawed or struck. There wasn’t a single wound left, not even a scar.
"Guess I can’t die just yet, huh?" I muttered, wincing as even speaking seemed to reignite a dull ache. But I couldn’t deny the relief. This is turning into a pattern, I thought. Waking up to an impossible situation, with no clue where I am or why.
Looking at the bracelet one more symbol faded away leaving only one more charge.
I laughed, the sound echoing back at me. The day I’d woken here – was it a day ago? Two? It felt like time was running together, and I had only the memories of this place: a cave, monsters lurking, and a lot of near-death moments. When I first woke up here, there had been no memories, no sense of who I was or why I was even alive, just that terrible realization of being prey to some hideous, hungry creature.
My chest tightened, and I had to laugh again at the absurdity of it. “If they’d been beautiful women instead of grotesque beasts,” I muttered with a smirk, “or even just remotely humanoid… Then at least there’d be a story to tell, right, Vic?”
I stopped cold, the name lingering on my tongue. Vic, Victor.
It felt familiar like part of me knew who I was talking about, but when I reached for more, I found… nothing. Just a vague image of red hair, little more than a shadow flickering in my mind. It gnawed at me, the feeling of something I should remember, someone I should know well. But as quickly as it came, the memory slipped away, leaving an ache I couldn’t quite place.
A chill spread through me, the same cold sensation that had stopped the pain in battle, and I knew without a doubt that it came from the earring. This little piece of metal had been more than just jewelry; it was protecting me, shielding me from memories that weren’t mine, thoughts that kept trying to worm their way into my mind.
Mom warned me not to use Exira like that, I recalled, faintly hearing her voice in the back of my mind. Reaching out with Exira to touch the mind of another. Fortunately, these ugly ass monsters had weak minds.
It’s dangerous, she’d warned when you touch another mind. If you aren’t careful, their thoughts and memories can leech into your own.
The images from the battle replayed, the rush of Exira flooding through me, feeling that creature’s small, barely existent mind give way beneath my will. If it had been stronger, I could’ve lost myself in it. The danger of Exira was clearer to me now than it had ever been.
I sighed a weariness setting in. I’d only just started recalling these things, piece by piece, and each one felt like the barest fragment of a much larger whole. “Some of the most crucial uses of Exira,” I muttered, shaking my head. And I’m only just now remembering how to wield it, I thought, biting back a frustrated laugh.
It was a strange irony – waking up here, piecing myself together from memories I didn’t know I’d lost. I had no idea who I used to be, yet here I was, learning from instincts that felt older than I could recall.
I planted my hands firmly on the ground and pushed myself to my feet, though it was a shaky effort. My legs wobbled, nearly giving out under me, and a surge of nausea hit as I straightened.
One step at a time, I reminded myself, taking in a slow breath, forcing it to be steady. Channeling just the smallest amount of Exira to support myself, to stabilize my movements, I felt the familiar hum of energy trickle through my veins, lending me enough strength to stand, even if only barely.
The cave walls around me blurred slightly, the edges hazy as my vision struggled to refocus. “Can’t stay here,” I whispered, the sound of my voice grounding me in the present. “Not if I want to get out of here… reach back to my family.”
Leaning against the wall, I let my hand brush over the stone, rough and cold under my fingertips. But that was something, at least – a reminder that I wasn’t just some lost soul. I was a survivor. Whatever else I’d been, I was that.
As I steadied myself, I felt that odd, intangible sense of strength, almost like the echo of a memory just out of reach. Mom’s voice played through my mind again, her face a blur in the memory, but her words firm.
“Exira is more than just strength, Lexi. It’s a part of you, bound to your will, your instincts.”
My instincts. Those, at least, I could trust. No matter what else I’d forgotten, my instincts had gotten me this far, guiding my hand, helping me survive each fight, each twisted creature that came at me. And if my instincts said to keep going, to test what I knew of EXIRA, then I would. I’d already pushed it further than I should have, but there was no denying its power or the bond that tied it to me.
“Alright,” I muttered, feeling the faint stir of strength in my limbs. “No more reckless outbursts. I need to learn control. Practice.”
The word felt strange on my tongue like it was something I hadn’t done in a long time. But it felt right. Whatever else lay beyond this cave, whatever memories I still hadn’t recovered, they would come to me, in time. For now, it was enough to know that I had the power to fight, to make my way forward, to survive.
I glanced down at the place where I’d fought that final monster, where the stone was scorched with the last traces of my Exira fueled flames.
My pulse quickened, that same thrill and fear returning as I took in the sight. It was proof that I had more strength than I’d thought, and though that power was dangerous, it was also mine.
With a tired groan, I pushed myself up from the cold stone floor, glancing around to locate my weapon. There it was, a few feet away, half-buried in the rubble from our battle. I dragged myself over and picked it up, sighing as I looked over the damage. The blade was dented, chipped, and cracked along the edge. It looked as exhausted as I felt.
"Didn’t think you’d make it through that," I murmured, giving the blade a faint smile.“But thanks for holding up.”
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I ran my thumb over the worn steel, feeling its rugged surface. We’d gone through a lot together, and though I could feel its limits, it had done its part, and I owed it some gratitude.
In a way, this blade felt like an extension of me–worn, battered, but somehow still holding on. "One more battle down," I said, tucking it into my belt, even though it barely resembled a sword anymore. I’d have to find a new weapon soon enough, but for now, it was better than nothing.
With that done, I turned to the corpse of the monster who’d nearly ended me. It was in two clean halves, the flames having burned through it with a raw, relentless energy. I chuckled, the absurdity of it catching up to me. "Not so tough now, are you?” I muttered with a smirk, eyeing the beast. Up close, it was even bigger than I’d realized.
" A variant? Or an Elite”
The thought of it being a higher-class monster, an elite sent a chill through me. If this was what I had to contend with, there could only be worse things waiting deeper in.
Elite monsters… and if they have elites, then there’s likely a lord. The image of something even bigger, something nastier lurking in the shadows sent a grim shudder down my spine. My confidence wavered a bit as the thought settled in.
"Damn it,” I muttered under my breath, feeling a knot of dread tightening in my chest. “If this is the level of elites I’ll probably do fine but… I feel like this ugly mf was on the lower end of elites”
The possibilities tumbled through my mind, each one darker than the last. My eyes lingered on the split halves of the creature, its hide leathery and tough. These things were resilient, armored almost naturally, and I’d had to push myself to the brink just to get this one down. If there were more of these… I shook my head, trying to dispel the rising dread.
I took a few steps closer, examining the beast’s limbs. One of my old swords was still embedded in its torso, the hilt protruding from a mess of scorched flesh and charred sinew. I took hold of the hilt and gave it a firm tug. It took some effort, but eventually, the blade slid free with a sickening, wet sound.
At least this one’s still intact, I thought with a faint sigh of relief, eyeing the edge. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do until I found something better.
My gaze shifted to the creature’s bone blades, jutting out from its elbows like deadly extensions of its own body. They were impressive, almost double the length of my sword, sharp, and sturdy-looking. I crouched down, inspecting them more closely.
“These things are nasty,” I muttered to myself. The blades had a faint sheen like they’d been hardened over time, perhaps from whatever twisted adaptations these creatures had developed to survive.
It made sense, though. “You probably use these for ambushes,” I said, almost like I was talking to the creature itself. “Lying in wait, waiting for the perfect moment to strike, then hacking your way through anything that gets too close.”
I could picture it, the way they’d used those elongated, jagged blades to clear the path in close quarters, the lethal combination of claws and bone cutting through flesh with brutal efficiency.
I gripped one of the blades and pulled, feeling the resistance as it remained lodged in the creature’s arm. With a grunt, I applied more force, eventually wrenching it free.
It was heavier than I expected, but it had a balance to it that felt almost… natural. I weighed it in my hands, testing the feel. It wasn’t ideal, but it might work as a makeshift weapon. If nothing else, it was sharp – razor-sharp, in fact. I could still see the faint edge where it had sliced through the air during our fight, its surface stained with my blood.
The thought stirred a wry chuckle. How poetic, I mused. The weapon that nearly killed me might just end up keeping me alive a little longer. I held up the bone blade, examining it more closely. The natural curve was unlike anything I’d wielded before, but it had a certain appeal– a primal, deadly elegance.
“Alright,” I said, gripping the blade and lifting it with both hands. "Guess you’re coming with me.”
With some effort, I worked that one free too, taking a moment to hold both of them, feeling their weight, their rough, deadly surface. These things were more than just weapons.
I knew that feeling well. That relentless drive, that needs to keep pushing, no matter how battered or broken. Holding those blades, it was almost like I could feel a connection, a kind of grim respect. These monsters, as horrible and deadly as they were, had their own purpose, their own instincts. And now, their strength was mine.
With the blades secured, I took a deep breath, letting the damp, heavy air of the cave fill my lungs. There was no guarantee I’d make it out of here alive, but I’d made it this far. I’d fought my way through monsters, survived near-death more than once, and was piecing together memories I hadn’t even known were lost.
After securing the bone blades, I straightened up and cast one last look over the massive corpse, its bisected form lying still in the dim light.
What’s that?
I noticed something glinting inside the beast’s remains – a tiny flicker of light-catching my eye through the gore, squinting at the faint shimmer. Stepping closer, I knelt down to get a better look.
As I sifted through the split flesh and viscera, I saw it: a pale, blood-smeared hand, its fingers curled, poking out from within the creature’s torn stomach.
My own fingers froze. I’d seen many horrors since waking up in this damned cave, but this was something new. A human hand, severed or bitten off at the wrist. And on one finger, a small ring caught the light.
The sight sent a shiver through me, mingling horror with an odd sense of hope.
A ring... on a human hand.
Carefully, I gripped the pale fingers and tugged the hand free, doing my best not to think too hard about what I was holding. The skin was still supple, the flesh eerily intact. Whatever it was about the monster’s stomach, digestion hadn’t yet set in. That meant this was recent. Fresh.
“No not fresh..ugh what am I even saying” I muttered darkly, trying to quell the nausea rising in my stomach. My attempt at humor rang hollow, and I grimaced, feeling an icy dread settle in my gut.
But then another thought broke through: This hand was fresh. The owner might still be alive.
Hope flared in my chest, flickering alongside the grim curiosity that had been driving me. Whoever this hand belonged to, maybe they were somewhere nearby, waiting to be saved or waiting to be found as a body.
I took a closer look at the hand, trying to find anything that might give me a clue. The ring was delicate, and simple, with a castle of sorts engraved on it. I brushed a thumb over it, frowning. Who are you?
I shifted my gaze to the torn body of the monster. There were no other remains nearby, no shredded clothes or other fragments of belongings that I could see, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t someone else here. Whoever it was, they’d been unlucky enough to cross paths with this creature, but if the body hadn’t yet begun to break down… maybe they wouldn't have been dead for long.
“Well, feels like a fortune cookie…yeah no that doesn’t feel right,” I said to the corpse, bitterness creeping into my voice. And I suppose now I have a choice to make.
I clenched my jaw, the weight of that decision settling over me. This place was already a hellhole, filled with creatures I could barely handle on my own. But leaving without at least trying to search for a survivor? That sat even worse with me than the smell of decay.
I forced myself to take a deep breath, ignoring the stench as best I could. I was going to need every bit of focus and energy I had left if I was going to track down whoever this hand belonged to, my gaze scanning the surrounding stone walls. It wouldn’t be easy, and I had no guarantees that I’d even find anything.
But I had to try.
The hand looked small and delicate – pale and smooth. Too smooth for a man, a female hand then perhaps. A pang shot through me at the sight, an odd, protective instinct I hadn’t realized I had.
Maybe it was just a kid. Someone who got dragged down here. My fingers tightened on the hilt of my remaining weapon. I’d been through too much here to let someone else suffer the same fate.
But questions piled up in my mind as I thought about it. How did they even end up here? And who were they?
Whoever this was, they had no business being in a place like this, and neither did I. But I was here, and as long as I was, I could try to make a difference. Standing up, I focused on my Exira, letting a faint pulse of power spread through my limbs, clearing away the lingering pain and exhaustion. It wasn’t much, but it sharpened my senses, giving me the clarity I needed.
Alright, I thought, trying to steady myself as I took in the surroundings again.
Whoever you are, wherever you are… I’ll find you, and then get out of this shit hole.
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