The figure ran.
Hundreds of objects tore through the air behind them.
Books spun like blades. Chairs smashed against the walls. Metal lamps twisted violently, their wires snapping as they flew past the figure's head.
The entire library seemed to collapse at once.
A table struck the floor and split in half. A bookshelf toppled forward, releasing a storm of books that scattered across the stairs.
The figure jumped over the debris.
Their boots struck the floor.
They pushed forward.
Then something struck their back.
Pain exploded through their shoulder.
The impact threw them off balance, sending them crashing against a desk.
For a moment, the world blurred.
The figure clenched their teeth beneath the mask.
Their shoulder throbbed. Their ribs ached. Blood trickled beneath the collar of their black coat.
They had underestimated their opponent.
Not his abilities.
His willingness to destroy everything around him.
The man stood in the centre of the ruined library, his arms extended. Books and broken furniture revolved around him.
His face twisted into an expression of delight.
"What's wrong?"
Another table lifted behind him.
"You were doing so well a moment ago!"
The table shot forward.
The figure rolled.
It struck the desk where they had been lying, reducing the wooden surface to splinters.
The man laughed.
"Run faster!"
The figure scrambled to their feet.
They couldn't keep dodging forever.
Their opponent had too many weapons, too much range, and enough control to turn the entire building against them.
A direct confrontation would be suicide.
They needed an opening.
And they needed it now.
The figure glanced at the shattered windows.
Too high.
Too exposed.
The stairs were blocked by fallen shelves. The nearest exit was across the central hall, but reaching it would mean crossing an open space where the man could attack from any direction.
The figure narrowed their eyes.
They had to think.
A metal cart came hurtling toward them.
They ducked beneath it.
The cart struck a pillar, sending metal fragments across the floor.
Another object followed.
Then another.
The figure moved between the attacks, conserving every movement.
They weren't trying to outrun the objects anymore.
They were studying their trajectories.
Every time the man changed direction, his right hand moved first.
Every time he increased the force, his shoulders tightened.
And whenever he controlled several heavy objects simultaneously, his movements became noticeably slower.
There.
A weakness.
Not a large one.
But enough.
The figure abruptly stopped running.
The man raised an eyebrow.
"Oh?"
He grinned.
"Giving up?"
The figure remained motionless.
"I knew you weren't as interesting as I thought."
He thrust both hands forward.
A massive section of the ceiling broke loose.
Concrete fragments crashed downward.
The figure moved.
But instead of escaping, they ran directly toward him.
The man's smile disappeared.
"What?"
The figure slid beneath a falling beam. Concrete shattered behind them. They vaulted over a broken table, planted one foot against a pillar, and changed direction.
The man swung his arm.
The remaining debris changed course.
The figure twisted sideways.
A metal lamp grazed their cheek.
The mask cracked slightly near the jaw.
They ignored it.
Five metres.
Four.
Three.
The man thrust his hand forward.
An invisible force struck the figure squarely in the chest.
Their body jerked backward.
For a fraction of a second, their feet left the floor.
Then their outline blurred into the darkness beneath the collapsed shelves.
The telekinetic blast passed through the space they had occupied.
The man froze.
"What?"
A shadow stretched across the floor behind him.
His head snapped around.
Too late.
The figure emerged from the darkness and struck his wrist.
His concentration broke.
Every object suspended in the air dropped simultaneously.
The library shook.
Chairs crashed. Metal lamps shattered. Books rained from the ceiling.
The man stumbled backward, clutching his injured wrist.
The figure followed.
A punch struck his jaw.
Another blow caught him in the stomach.
The figure swept his legs from beneath him.
He hit the floor hard.
For a moment, neither moved.
Then the man began laughing.
Quietly at first.
Then louder.
The figure stopped.
Something about the sound was wrong.
The man had just been knocked to the ground, injured, and stripped of his advantage.
Yet he sounded delighted.
"You really don't know, do you?"
The figure lowered their stance.
The man wiped blood from his mouth.
"All this time, I thought you were sent to kill me."
He looked directly at the mask.
"But you're just as ignorant as the others."
The figure grabbed his collar and pulled him upright.
The man smiled.
"So you can talk."
The figure's grip tightened.
The man's amusement slowly disappeared.
For the first time, his eyes looked almost human.
Tired.
Frightened.
Desperate.
"You shouldn't have come here."
The figure stared at him.
He swallowed.
"Because it knows you're here."
A sudden vibration passed through the floor.
The figure felt it through their boots.
The man's face went pale.
"No."
Another vibration.
The lights flickered.
He began struggling violently.
"No, no, no!"
The figure released him.
He scrambled backward, dragging himself across the floor.
"Stay away from me!"
The figure watched him, their eyebrows knitting together in confusion.
He had tried to kill them only moments ago.
Now he was terrified of something they couldn't see.
The man pressed both hands against his temples.
His fingers trembled.
"It's awake."
A sharp crack echoed through the library.
Not from the ceiling.
Not from the walls.
From inside his body.
He screamed.
The figure immediately stepped back.
Dark lines appeared beneath his skin, spreading from his neck toward his jaw like cracks in glass.
His fingers curled.
His back arched.
Something moved beneath his shirt.
The figure raised one hand.
A shadow spread across the floor, ready to restrain him.
The man's scream abruptly stopped.
His head lowered.
For several seconds, he remained motionless.
Then he slowly looked up.
His eyes had changed.
The whites had turned black.
A thin crimson ring surrounded each pupil.
When he smiled, the expression was so unnatural that the figure instinctively retreated.
The man spoke.
But the voice was different.
Deeper.
Older.
And strangely calm.
"Finally."
The figure's fingers tightened.
"I was beginning to think you would never come close enough."
The figure attacked.
A shadow shot across the floor and wrapped around the man's legs.
They pulled.
His body crashed against the ground.
But he didn't scream.
He simply looked down at the shadow.
Then he laughed.
The darkness began to smoke.
The figure released it.
Too late.
The shadow disintegrated.
A violent force erupted from the man's body, hurling the figure across the library.
They struck a pillar shoulder-first.
Pain tore through their arm.
Their mask struck the stone, and a small fragment broke away.
The figure slid to the floor.
For several seconds, they couldn't move.
The man stood.
Or rather, something wearing the man's body stood.
His head tilted slightly.
"Interesting."
He examined his hands.
"Very interesting."
The figure forced themselves upright.
Their breathing had become uneven.
The thing looked directly at them.
"Your body is unusual."
The figure remained silent.
"Your organism should have rejected you."
They froze.
The thing smiled.
"But it didn't."
A pause.
"Do you know why?"
The figure slowly raised their head.
"Because it remembers."
The library fell silent.
For a brief moment, the figure forgot the pain, the broken furniture, and the blood beneath their coat.
The thing's smile widened.
"Oh. You really don't remember."
The figure's shadow stirred.
The thing noticed.
Its smile disappeared.
"How disappointing."
It raised one hand.
Every remaining piece of debris lifted from the floor.
The figure immediately moved into the shadows.
Concrete exploded against the pillar. Metal fragments tore through the darkness.
The figure emerged near the staircase, barely avoiding a section of the ceiling that crashed behind them.
They staggered.
Their body was beginning to fail.
The shadow manipulation had consumed more energy than expected, and the repeated impacts had left their limbs trembling.
They could keep fighting for another minute.
Perhaps two.
But if the thing continued increasing its power, those minutes would not matter.
The figure needed to absorb the lifeform.
Not merely observe it.
Not simply defeat its host.
The organism itself had to be reached.
And whatever had awakened inside the man was no ordinary parasite.
The figure stared at the black veins spreading across his face.
Then an idea formed.
Dangerous.
Uncertain.
Possibly fatal.
But there was no other option.
The figure deliberately stepped into the light.
The thing watched.
"Have you decided to surrender?"
The figure raised both hands.
Their shadow stretched behind them.
Then it divided.
One shadow became three.
Three became six.
Soon, darkness spread across the floor in every direction.
The thing's eyes narrowed.
"An illusion?"
The shadows began moving independently.
One rushed toward the man.
Another climbed the nearest pillar.
A third slipped beneath a collapsed shelf.
The thing raised its hand.
A violent force tore through the first shadow.
It vanished.
The second approached from behind.
The thing turned and destroyed it too.
The third struck from the left.
The man moved to intercept it.
And that was when the real figure attacked.
They emerged from the darkness directly in front of him.
Their gloved hand struck his chest.
For a fraction of a second, nothing happened.
Then the figure felt it.
Something beneath the man's skin.
Something cold.
Something that seemed to twist away from their touch.
The figure pushed harder.
The man's body convulsed.
His eyes widened.
"No!"
A dark vein burst across his neck.
The figure felt a violent pull from within their own body.
It wasn't simply the familiar pressure associated with an infected lifeform.
It felt like two organisms recognizing one another.
One reaching.
The other resisting.
The thing inside the man screamed.
The sound shattered the remaining windows.
The figure staggered, but their hand remained pressed against his chest.
The organism fought back.
A wave of pain tore through their arm.
Their vision blurred.
Images flooded their mind.
A white corridor.
A glass chamber.
A child's hand pressed against a window.
Someone speaking behind the glass.
"Subject Seven remains viable."
Another voice answered.
"That is impossible."
Then a third voice.
"Destroy the records."
The images vanished.
The figure gasped.
The man seized their wrist.
"You don't belong here!"
He slammed the figure against the floor.
The impact forced the air from their lungs.
Their grip broke.
The figure rolled away, coughing.
The man staggered backward.
His body trembled violently.
The black veins had spread across his entire face.
For the first time, the thing inside him appeared frightened.
It stared at the figure.
Then it whispered a single word.