Hunger. An ancient enemy of man, relentless and unforgiving. Right now, it was Aziz who was battling this primal force. Aziz was no longer normal, something that was becoming clearer every day. Ever since he had consumed the flesh of the black-death serpent, his body had been changing in ways that were both bizarre and worrying. He could feel the loss of his humanity creeping in, replaced by something else, something more primal.

Yet every time the faces of Mal, his mother, and the village flashed in his mind, a determined frown settled on his face. The fear and uncertainty were quickly drowned by the oppressive darkness within, as suffocating as the pit itself. If becoming a monster was the price for survival, so be it. If embracing the beast within would bring him peace, then let it be done. The Order had forged this path for him.

Within moments, Aziz had crawled through the narrow hole, returning to the temple. The once-bright torches that had lined the walls were now dim, their flames flickering weakly. The darkness no longer bothered Aziz—in fact, he found comfort in it. The shadows were his allies, concealing him, protecting him. To most, darkness was a source of fear, but to Aziz, it was safety, being able to see in the pit was a huge advantage. Shadow Scales or as Aziz had begun calling him— Master Zhang, whose teachings in the manual echoed this sentiment of comfort in the night.

He made his way to a favoured spot on the bridge, where the black-death serpents were most densely packed. As he approached, the snakes began to hiss, their beady purple eyes fixating on him.

Sitting down at the edge of the bridge, his feet dangling over the writhing mass below, Aziz began to unroll the string he had prepared, all the while reciting one of the many verses from Master Zhang.

“Darkness is the ally of the beast. For the beast is born in it and made to see the unseen. As a student of the art of the Lowly Serpent’s Breath, it is important to understand this. Men find comfort in the fire at night. Not you, my little snake. No. You will find comfort in the unseen. The cold, lonely unseen. That is where you belong. Strike in the night. Retreat with the night. Behold, let your enemies quiver at what is then seen.”

He had yet to learn any true martial arts, but Master Zhang emphasized the importance of subterfuge and strategy. Honourable fights were a luxury for fools. Master Zhang preferred quiet, efficient victories, caring little for glory or fame.

As Aziz finished his thoughts, the looped string was ready. The hisses from below grew louder, the serpents anticipating what was to come. It had taken Aziz a week to fully embrace this plan, but if he was to survive, it had to be done. He gnawed on his lower lip, psyching himself up.

It must be done, he told himself. There is no other choice. The bread and water he received would not be enough to sustain him for the long-term if he had any hopes in learning martial arts.

He needed meat. Looking down into the deep below, the snakes were the only source of meat in the pit. Whatever temple this was, to whichever god it didn't matter. How could things get any worse?

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It was better not to think too much about it. With a quick, decisive motion, Aziz brought his pinkie finger to his mouth.

Surprisingly, biting through his own flesh was easier than he had anticipated. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth as his teeth tore through skin and bone, severing half of his pinkie. Pain shot through his hand, but it was nothing compared to the agony he had endured before. After dying ten times to the black-death poison, this was merely a dull throb.

Blood dripped from the open wound, splattering onto the writhing mass below. The snakes, picking up the scent, turned towards it, their hisses growing frantic as a feeding frenzy began. Some of his blood had splattered onto other serpents, who were quickly torn apart by their brethren. Black scales flew into the air as the cannibalistic creatures devoured one another in a chaotic, unholy mass.

Aziz watched from above with morbid fascination. The serpents were as beautiful as they were deadly. So beau— Hunger roared within him at the sight of the flesh below. For a moment, something deep inside him urged him to jump into the fray, to feast alongside the snakes. But he quickly regained control, Master Zhang’s teachings grounding him.

“The heavens declared man the master of all beasts. For the martial artist, training is taming the beast. We place chains around its neck, beating it into submission until it obeys our will. Never be a slave to it. Make it obey you. Make it submit.”

Aziz took slow, measured breaths, remembering his purpose. You have a duty, he reminded himself. The wound on his hand had already stopped bleeding, his body’s miraculous healing abilities at work. Spitting out the severed pinkie, Aziz tied the string around it, securing the loop. Time to go fishing, he thought, a grim smile tugging at his lips. He had been waiting for this moment for two weeks.

Slowly, he lowered the line, the bloody bait dangling at the end. The snakes below hadn’t noticed yet, still occupied by the remnants of the frenzy. He hung the bait just a few inches above the mass, then waited.

It didn’t take long. One of the black-deaths slithered away from the others, its gaze locked onto the bloody morsel hanging above. Aziz tugged at the line, anticipation growing within him. The snake moved faster, sensing an easy meal. It extended its neck and bit down onto the dangling finger.

With a swift, practiced motion, Aziz yanked the string, pulling the snake up and away from the others. The weight of the creature tested the strength of the line, but Aziz reeled it in with frantic determination.

Black-deaths were greedy; the snake wouldn’t let go of its prize. Finally, Aziz pulled the serpent onto the bridge, pinning it to the stone floor. Its mouth remained latched onto the bait, unwilling to release it even as it stared up at him with its glowing, purple eyes.

Aziz wasted no time. Holding the snake firmly, he tore into it, his sharp incisors piercing its spine. The creature spasmed violently, its blood gushing into his mouth, warm and thick.

The snake writhed in his grip, still chewing on the severed finger even as its life drained away. Aziz didn’t care. His eyes burned with a violet hue as he drank deeply, the taste of blood and flesh sating the hunger that had gnawed at him for days. He drank every drop of the serpent’s venomous blood, savouring the taste as he gnawed on its flesh. When he was done, he left the tail intact, setting it aside for future bait, planning to douse it in his own blood to lure in more meals.

Full and satisfied, Aziz finally collected himself. He now had a steady supply of meat, enough to sustain his training. With this, he could focus entirely on mastering the Lowly Serpent’s Breath.

Aziz looked down at the writhing mass below, his resolve hardening. I’ll crawl, he thought, repeating Master Zhang’s words to himself. I’ll crawl, then I’ll walk. And one day, I’ll fly.

And when that day came, the Order would face a monster of their own creation.