Morning came, but it didn't look like morning.
The sky was still dark—thick gray clouds hanging low, smothering any hint of sun. The air was cold and dry, and the wind dragged thin streams of sand across the ground, whispering over the dunes like restless ghosts.
Alex sat with his back against a chunk of half-buried stone, legs stretched out, a dented can of beans cradled between his hands. He'd already stabbed it open with his knife and eaten most of it by the time he realized he was scraping the bottom.
He scooped the last sticky bits with two fingers and sucked them off, not caring how it looked. Food was food. Even bland, sour beans tasted like a feast after nearly dying inside some soul-twisting pocket realm.
He swallowed, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and exhaled.
The exhaustion from yesterday still clung to his muscles, but it was lighter now. His body felt strange—strong, but not familiar yet. Like he'd moved into someone else's frame and had to learn how to walk again.
Behind him, Arte sat on a rock, grooming his paw with dainty licks as if they weren't in the middle of a dead wasteland.
"Ready?" the cat asked without looking up.
Alex snorted. "Do I have a choice?"
"You always have a choice," Arte replied. "You just rarely have a good one."
Alex rolled his eyes and pushed himself to his feet, brushing sand from his clothes. "Well, I did beat that nightmare snake, remember? I think I can step on a few bugs."
Arte's golden eyes flicked toward him. "You seem confident."
"Shouldn't I be?"
"Confidence is fine," Arte said. "Delusion, less so."
Alex scoffed. "Relax. I can handle it."
Arte didn't argue.
He just hopped down from the rock and walked a few paces forward. The air around him warped slightly, bending like heat above a fire.
Alex watched, arms folded.
A circle of black mist formed beneath the cat's paws—tiny at first, then widening, swirling, deepening into a shadow that looked too dark for the open air. Symbols Alex couldn't read rotated faintly at the edges.
A portal.
"Again?" Alex muttered. "You and your secret doors…"
Arte flicked his tail. "In we go. Same place as last time."
Alex took a deep breath.
He tried to bury the small ripple of unease.
"Fine. Let's get this over with."
He stepped into the shadow.
The world tilted—colors stretching, sound smearing into a low, buzzing hum. For a heartbeat it felt like someone grabbed his spine and pulled him sideways through reality.
Then his foot hit sand.
Hot, dry, rough sand.
He stumbled forward out of the portal and straightened up.
They were back.
The desert stretched around them in all directions—a sea of gray dunes under a low, lifeless sky. In the distance, the silhouette of a crumbling city lay half-swallowed by sand, buried like the bones of a dead giant.
Here, the wind was harsher.
It whipped the sand into small spirals, stinging his face and arms. His hair, still damp at the ends from yesterday's water trial, waved messily around his face.
Alex cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders. No stinging pain. No sharp protests from his body.
He grinned.
"I'm ready."
Arte stepped beside him, sitting neatly in the sand like they were just out for a stroll. "We'll see."
Alex spread his fingers, feeling for that cold, heavy well inside his chest.
The souls stirred.
They didn't have voices—not ones he could properly hear—but there was always a sense of presence. A weight. A heat-less pressure, like unseen eyes opening somewhere inside him.
The Reptile Gang.
He clenched and relaxed his hand slowly. He could pull them now. Not easily, not casually—but without the screaming panic from before.
"I can handle it," he muttered again, more to himself than anyone else.
"Good," Arte said lightly. "Because they're here."
Alex blinked. "they're —?"
The sand ahead of them shifted.
At first, it was just a ripple. A small rise and fall, like something large was moving underneath.
Then the ground bulged.
A massive claw broke through the surface, throwing sand into the air. Then another. Then the front of a chitinous head emerged, black-gray with sharp ridges, topped with small gleaming eyes and a pair of monstrous pincers.
A scorpion.
The same kind as before—massive, armored. But now Alex could see the details clearly:
Three tails, all segmented and curved, each ending in a different-shaped stinger—one thin and needle-like, one thicker and knotted, one hooked and jagged. Veins of faint, sickly green light pulsated beneath the scorpion's exoskeleton.
The creature clicked its pincers once.
Alex—for just a second—felt a flash of the old fear.
But it was drowned by something else: the thrill of power.
He smirked.
"Just you and me this time, huh?" he muttered.
The scorpion hissed.
The sand shifted again.
Alex's smugness snapped.
Because another shape rose from the sand to their right.
And another to the left.
Two more in front.
One behind.
And one farther away, circling.
Six scorpions in total.
All huge.All three-tailed.All focusing on him.
The desert seemed smaller now.
"Arte," Alex said slowly, "why are there six?"
"You said you beat the snake," Arte replied calmly. "So I adjusted your training."
"You adjusted my—?" Alex stared at him. "ARE YOU INSANE?!"
"Probably," Arte said. "Summon your souls."
One of the scorpions lunged without warning.
Its tails arched high, stingers glistening with poison. The nearest pair of pincers snapped toward Alex fast enough to break bone if they connected.
Alex didn't have time to argue.
He thrust out his hand.
The air in front of him twisted, a familiar cold wind rushing past his skin. Blue-white light flared, forming a jagged crack in the space between him and the nearest monster.
From that rift—
The Reptile Gang spilled out.
Four of them this time—sharper and more defined than before. Their translucent forms were outlined in faint blue light, reptilian scales glimmering along the sides of their faces and arms. Their claws glowed brighter, like they were made of carved ice.
Alex felt the pull in his chest. He grunted, sweat breaking across his forehead instantly. Controlling this many at once took effort.
But he could do it.
"MOVE!" he shouted.
The first scorpion's pincers slammed down where he had been standing a heartbeat before—
Because the souls yanked him back.
Two Reptile souls grabbed his arms and pulled, sliding him along the sand, his boots digging furrows in the grit. Another two shot forward toward the monster.
The first soul slammed into the scorpion's left pincer, claws wrapping around the thick joint. The second clung to the right, digging in, not stopping the pincers entirely—but slowing them.
The scorpion hissed, surprised by the resistance. Its tails whipped forward, stingers flashing down like serpents.
"Drop!" Alex thought more than said.
The souls obeyed.
They let go and dropped back—
The stingers stabbed where they'd been an instant before, poison splattering onto the sand and burning it black.
Alex's heart hammered.
The second scorpion—off to his left—charged now, legs clicking against the ground as it moved surprisingly fast for its size.
The third raised its tails, aiming deeper, preparing to strike long-range.
Alex knew he couldn't dodge all of it alone.
"Spread out!" he commanded.
The four Reptile souls shot off—two toward the second scorpion, two toward the third. Their motions were smoother now, no longer wild lunges, but sharp, targeted movements.
They weren't just rage. They were weapons.
One soul leapt straight at a scorpion's face, ramming its claws into its small cluster of beady eyes. The monster recoiled, pincers snapping wildly at the air.
Another slid underneath, clawing at the joints of its front legs, tearing through the glowing veins beneath the exoskeleton. Sickly green fluid leaked out, hissing where it touched the sand.
The third soul soared high, then pounced on the base of a tail, wrapping its arms around it like a grappler, yanking down as much as its ghostly strength allowed.
The fourth attacked the side of another scorpion, claws scraping deep grooves into its armored shell, leaving glowing blue trails wherever they passed.
Alex grinned through clenched teeth.
"Yeah," he panted. "This is more like it—"
The ground behind him exploded.
The scorpion that had been circling burst from the sand directly under his feet, launching him up into the air. Alex shouted, thrown off balance.
Another scorpion tail struck.
It didn't fully impale him—one of the souls jerked his body just enough—
But the hooked stinger slashed across his side, ripping his shirt and tearing through skin.
Pain flared white-hot.
"AAAGH—!"
He landed hard on his back, the impact driving the air from his lungs.
His hand flew to his side. Blood warmed his fingers. The position was bad—if the poison spread—
"Don't let it sit," Arte's voice rang out from somewhere behind him. "Keep moving."
"Oh, you think I want to lie here?!" Alex shouted back, struggling to his feet.
The scorpion that had hit him reared up, all three tails poised. Its pincers clacked in anticipation.
The souls moved again, but they couldn't be everywhere. Two were still wrestling another scorpion, keeping its tails low. One had taken a direct hit from a rolling claw and was flickering badly. The last one clung to a tail that tried to shake it off, swinging wildly.
Alex realized something in that moment: brute force wouldn't be enough.
He needed control. Strategy.
"Fine," he muttered to himself. "Think like a Harvester…"
The scorpion in front of him lunged—pincers open, tails aiming to strike from different angles.
Alex inhaled sharply.
He stepped forward.
Not back.
He pushed his will outward, toward the flickering soul—the one that had been smashed by a scorpion claw.
"You're not done yet," he growled.
The soul shuddered.
Its wavering form solidified slightly, pulling itself together. Its hollow eyes brightened.
"Intercept!"
The soul flashed toward the center scorpion's chest, ramming into it like a ghostly spear. It didn't knock the thing over—but it staggered.
Alex slipped to the side, barely dodging one pincer. A stinger scraped his shoulder, but only nicked him this time.
His hand glowed.
Not with a full attack—he didn't have time for a proper pull—but with a small, focused surge of that cold inner energy.
He slammed that hand against the scorpion's lower joint, right where the pincer connected to its body.
For a split-second—
He felt it.
Something under that armored shell. A flash of instinct. A tremor of fear.
He didn't pull fully. He couldn't—not with this many enemies still standing.
But he tugged.
Just enough.
The scorpion jerked like something had been ripped loose inside it. Its pincer slackened, opening wider than intended. Its body faltered for a fraction of a breath.
It was enough.
"All of you!" Alex shouted to the souls. "FOCUS ONE!"
The souls broke away from their scattered positions and surged toward the staggered scorpion in front of Alex.
Four of them hit at once.
Two clawed at its chest, pulling up pieces of armored plates. One dug deep into its neck joint. One leapt at its central face segment, driving clawed fingers into the cracks between plates.
Alex raised his hand again, ignoring the burning pain in his side.
Light surged up his arm.
"DOWN," he ordered.
The souls yanked.
The scorpion slammed into the sand with a heavy impact, legs flailing, tails stabbing wildly at the air.
Alex lunged forward, grabbed his knife from his belt with his good hand, and rammed it into the gap between two armor plates at the base of its neck.
The knife wasn't what did the damage.
His power was.
He channeled it through the blade, like turning metal into a spiritual conductor. Cold flared down his arm, into the hilt, into the steel.
The exoskeleton split open around the knife in a flash of blue-white.
The scorpion convulsed.
Green-black blood gushed from the wound, thick and viscous. It spilled across the sand in a wide pool.
Alex ripped the knife free and stumbled back, gasping.
The scorpion spasmed a final time.
Then went still.
The sand hissed.
At first, he thought it was just the sound of hot blood hitting cold grains. But then he realized it didn't sound… natural.
The blood that had poured from the scorpion's neck didn't soak into the sand like normal liquid.
It blended.
Green-black veins spread through the gray grains, snaking outward in branching lines. The sand darkened wherever the blood touched, writhing as if stirring from sleep.
Alex's eyes widened.
"…Arte…?"
The veins converged, forming a central cluster.
The sand swelled upward.
A new shape began to rise—small at first, then growing, particles sticking to particles, layering themselves into something solid.
Segments.Claws.Three tails.
A smaller, but fully formed, scorpion made of fused sand and blood lifted itself from the ground, eyes glowing a brighter, sicklier green than before.
Alex stared.
"You've got to be kidding me…"
The sand-blood creature shrieked without sound as it finished rising—its new body scraping together grain by grain.
Segments locked into place.
Legs unfolded.
Three tails curled behind it like hooked spears.
It wasn't as big as the first scorpion—but it was faster. Lighter. Meaner.
"You've got to be kidding me…" Alex breathed.
As if answering him, another of the original scorpions hissed and stepped forward, stirring the sand with heavy, clicking movements. Its tails lifted, stingers glowing faintly green.
So now he had: Five full-sized scorpions still moving. One fresh sand-blood variant. And a body that was losing blood and strength by the minute.
Behind him, Arte spoke calmly.
"You're learning something important."
"Yeah," Alex snapped, eyes locked on the new creature. "That everything in this world wants me dead."
"That too," Arte agreed.
The sand-blood scorpion lunged.
It didn't come at him in a straightforward path. It scuttled sideways at an angle, kicking up a burst of dust, then shot forward in a low, fast sprint. Its stingers struck the ground as it ran, leaving small burning craters wherever they landed.
Alex stepped back, muscles tensing.
Four Reptile souls moved instinctively to shield him. One jumped straight at the sand-blood scorpion, claws slashing at its face.
This time, there was no satisfying tear of flesh.
Its claws passed through part of the monster's head—disrupting it, distorting the sand and blood that composed it—but not ripping it apart. The creature's form wavered, then snapped back together, distorted lines smoothing out.
"Great, it's goo," Alex muttered.
The other souls attacked the nearest full-sized scorpion instead, trying to keep the rest from rushing him all at once.
Three battles were happening at once.
One soul clung to a tail, yanking it off course whenever it tried to stab. Another went for leg joints. The last leapt up onto a raised pincer, its claws glowing brighter as it tried to carve lines into hardened chitin.
But there were too many enemies.
Two more scorpions began circling.
The air vibrated with their movement. Their shadows overlapped and stretched across the sand, huge and crawling.
Alex gritted his teeth.
He had reached a limit.
Fighting like this—small tricks, physical dodging, superficial damage—it wasn't enough. He could maybe bring down one, maybe two more…
And then he'd be done.
His hand drifted to his chest.
Deep inside, past the cluster of human souls and the cold well of power, something else lay coiled.
Heavy. Vast. Crackling like distant thunder.
The serpent.
Its soul.
He had taken it. It was his.
Alex's eyes widened slightly.
"…Wait," he whispered.
In his mind, he reached for that storm.
The moment he touched it, his fingers—his soul-fingers—burned.
It wasn't gentle like the Reptile souls. It wasn't weightless.
It was a force. A pressure. A storm squeezed into a single white-hot knot.
It reacted the instant he brushed against it—lightning snapping inside his chest. His skin tingled. His hair stood on end. The sand around his boots flickered with faint static.
The sand-blood scorpion closed in.
Alex focused on the knot.
"You're mine," he thought, jaw clenched. "Move."
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then something tore loose.
He dragged his arm forward, and in that motion, it felt like he was hauling a mountain through a keyhole. Energy ripped down his arm—cold and burning at the same time.
He thrust his hand toward the empty air between him and the oncoming scorpion—
And the world split.
Light exploded outward.
A massive, ghostly shape burst into existence, made not of flesh but of lightning and pale energy. Its form was semi-transparent but solid enough that the air itself recoiled around it.
A serpent.
Not as huge as the original physical one—smaller, compact—but just as fierce. Its body was made of tangled lightning-lines, merging into sleek, glowing scales. Its eyes burned with golden fire edged in blue.
Alex's knees buckled.
He almost fell.
But he stayed upright, panting, as the serpent unleashed a silent roar.
The sand-blood scorpion never slowed.
The serpent lunged.
They collided in a relentless crash.
The serpent's lightning body wrapped around the scorpion, coils slamming into its sand-and-blood frame. Where they touched, the sand hissed, glassifying in streaks. The creature shrieked, its form rippling as chunks of sand broke loose and floated away as dust.
The serpent squeezed.
The sand-blood scorpion tried to break free, stabbing its three tails into the serpent's sides. The stingers passed through part of its form—soul into soul—sending wild distortion through its coils.
Electricity exploded where they pierced, splitting in jagged lines along the serpent's body. For a moment, its shape became blurred, almost broken.
Alex grunted.
Every hit echoed inside him.
He realized something then:
This serpent wasn't separate from him.
It was linked. Deeply. Intimately.
Every time the scorpion tore at the serpent's form, Alex felt a trembling deep in his ribs.
But he also felt something else.
Distance didn't matter.
There was no weight.
No gravity.
No need for space.
His will didn't travel through the air—
It jumped.
The serpent's head jerked away from the scorpion's tails.
Not because it slithered or slid—
But because Alex willed it to appear somewhere else.
One moment the serpent's head was above the scorpion's back.
The next, it materialized to the creature's side, jaws already biting down on one of its legs.
Teleport.
Alex's eyes widened.
"Souls…" he panted. "You… you don't need to move in straight lines…"
The serpent ripped through the scorpion's leg—sand and blood spraying out in a blurred arc. Lightning surged through the wound, disrupting the scorpion's structure.
The leg shattered.
The scorpion faltered.
Alex's other souls were still engaged with the full-size scorpions. One was thrown aside by a violent tail swing and spun through the air, but reappeared near another scorpion's head—because Alex willed it there.
His heart hammered.
He tried again.
He focused on one soul—saw it in his mind, a speck of cold fire—and thought:
Behind it.
The soul vanished—
—and reappeared behind one scorpion's tail, claws already swinging down, catching the stinger joint. The spectral blow cut through the glowing green vein, the stinger drooping uselessly.
Power flooded his mind like new understanding.
He could move them where he wanted.
The battlefield wasn't a physical field for them—it was a map in his head.
He saw it all then:
The six scorpions.
Their positions.
The flow of sand beneath their legs.
The lightning serpent coiled around the blood one.
His four Reptile souls, floating weapons in a space that didn't obey normal rules.
He set his jaw.
"Fine," Alex said harshly. "Let's play my way."
He threw both hands out.
Souls answered.
Two Reptile souls blinked out of sight.
They reappeared instantly—one atop a scorpion's back, the other clinging to its face, digging claws into the gaps between armor plates. The scorpion thrashed, but they held on.
Another soul teleported to the third scorpion's side, near its legs, rake-attacking its soft underjoint where armor met sand. Blue-white claw marks cut through faintly glowing veins. Dark liquid seeped out.
The fourth soul dropped directly beneath a charging scorpion.
Alex forced it to solidify.
The soul's translucent form hardened—just a bit—enough to give it weight. The scorpion's front legs slammed into it, and for one second, it tripped.
That was all Alex needed.
"SERPENT—NOW!"
The serpent vanished.
Teleport.
It reappeared above the tripping scorpion, head angled downward like an executioner's blade.
It plunged.
Its fanged maw slammed into the scorpion's exposed back, lightning blasting through its body. The scorpion convulsed, legs flaring, tails stabbing blindly in every direction.
Alex's chest burned.
His side wound cried out as he twisted, controlling the field.
He felt like he was juggling knives made of his own bones.
But it was working.
The sand-blood scorpion still writhing inside the serpent's coils began to destabilize. Its body flickered, sections collapsing and reforming slower each time. The blood-threaded sand that made up its form loosened, falling away in clumps.
"You're not coming back again," Alex muttered.
He focused on the sand-blood scorpion's core.
There—buried deep beneath shifting grains—
Something pulsed.
Not like the serpent's soul. Smaller. Flickering. Sickly green.
He reached for it.
Not physically.
Not with hands or knife.
With that strange spiritual grip.
His head throbbed.
The desert blurred.
He clenched his teeth and pulled.
The sand-blood scorpion's entire form jolted.
Its tails went stiff. Its legs splayed. Its pincers hung open.
A lance of green-white light shot out from its chest—straight into Alex's.
It hit him like freezing fire.
His heart stuttered. His lungs faltered for a second before restarting at double speed.
The scorpion's form collapsed.
All at once, it dropped—body breaking into a pile of loose sand and dark sludge. The serpent slid through the falling grains, lightning dimming now that its main prize was taken.
Alex stumbled back, hand over his chest.
He'd taken its soul.
And it was filthy.
This one didn't roar with power like the serpent's—its presence was sharp and toxic, like swallowing shattered glass. But it folded into the mass already forming deep in his chest, forced into submission.
He spat onto the sand.
"Disgusting."
But he was alive.
For three heartbeats, everything slowed.
One scorpion lay shattered, two legs missing, tails drooping limp. Another reeled blindly, eyes gouged out by a soul's claws. A third had one of its tails half severed, twitching uselessly. The others had wounds, burns, glowing cracks.
They were weaker.
Not defeated.
But weaker.
Alex laughed once—a short, breathless sound.
He lifted his head, sweat dripping down his neck.
"Arte!" he shouted hoarsely. "You watching this?!"
Far away, Arte sat on a higher dune, tail curled, watching with a look that might have been pride—or calculation.
He didn't answer.
Alex didn't need him to.
He focused back on the scorpions.
They were learning, too.
Instead of rushing one by one, three of them aligned in a loose arc, pincers raised, tails weaving careful patterns in the air. Green light pulsed at the tips of their stingers, building charge.
Poison.
Magic.
Or both.
"Not good," Alex muttered.
He tightened his grip on the souls.
Three of his Reptile specters flickered—the strain of prolonged battle wearing them down. The fourth was still solid, but dimmer at the edges.
The serpent slithered through the air like a wounded storm, coils pulsing weakly. The last burst of lightning it had unleashed had taken a toll; it wasn't infinite.
He needed to end this.
Not by smashing shells.
By doing what a Harvester does.
Take souls.
He inhaled deeply.
His skin tingled. His veins buzzed with cold energy.
"Hold them," he ordered.
The souls moved.
The serpent lunged toward the middle scorpion, wrapping around its body once more, constricting, tails whipping at its armored sides. Electricity crackled, sealing joints, locking them in place.
Two Reptile souls blinked into existence above the right and left scorpions, digging their claws into the armor between their tail segments. They didn't try to rip everything—just wrenched the tails downward, forcing them to aim lower.
The fourth soul dove under a scorpion's body, clawing at its legs, destabilizing its stance, making it stumble.
The scorpions unleashed their attacks.
Green-laced stinger blasts hammered into the sand in wild, misdirected bursts. Some struck the serpent and passed through its semi-ethereal form, distorting it with a deep ripple. Alex winced as the backlash rippled through his chest.
His vision blurred.
No more playing.
He focused on all of them.
One by one, he felt for the core inside each scorpion.
There.
There.
And there.
Six little lights.
Each foul and sickly. Each resisting even before he touched.
He reached with both hands, fingers spread wide, not touching anything physical.
He grabbed.
The world narrowed.
Pain spiked through his spine—a sharp, brutal signal that he was going too far, too fast. But he didn't stop.
"OUT," Alex snarled. "ALL OF YOU—OUT!"
The desert went silent.
The scorpions froze mid-movement, legs twitching.
Their tails stiffened.
From their skulls, from their chests, from the glowing veins beneath their armor—
Streams of light burst forth.
Six beams of soul-light—green-white, violent, poisonous—ripped free of their hosts, all at once, all converging toward Alex's chest.
The force nearly knocked him off his feet.
His body bowed forward, hands clenching into claws, teeth grinding as the light slammed into him—
And the souls of the scorpions
were pulled
into the Harvester.
The last streaks of soul-light sank into Alex's chest, burning through him like cold fire. His knees buckled. His breath hitched. Then—
Silence.
Total stillness.
The scorpions' bodies hit the sand one by one, collapsing like empty shells with their cores ripped out. The serpent's lightning form dissolved into thin sparks before fading entirely, its energy finally exhausted.
Alex stood in the middle of the battlefield—
covered in sand,
blood drying on his shirt,
breath shaking,
heart pounding like a hammer inside his ribs.
Then he let out a wild, breathless laugh.
"I… I did it," he said, trembling with exhaustion and triumph. "I actually did it!"
His laughter cracked halfway through, turning into something almost hysterical. He bent forward, hands on his knees, gasping but grinning like an idiot.
"You see that? Arte—did you SEE—"
His vision flickered.
The world wavered.
His voice came out in a slur.
"—see… that…?"
His legs gave out.
He dropped to the sand, sinking halfway to his knees before rolling to the side. The gray sky blurred above him. His heartbeat slowed. His body, pushed past its limit, demanded what he could no longer give.
Arte's voice sounded distant.
"I did say not to get too confident."
Alex tried to respond, but darkness washed across his vision.
And he fell.
*****
Water.
Cold.
Heavy.
Pulling him down.
Alex gasped, but the gasp filled his mouth with thick liquid—black and sticky like oil. It dragged him deeper into a void-like ocean, no surface, no bottom, just endless dark.
He thrashed, reaching upward, but hands—black, clawed hands made of liquid—wrapped around his wrists, tugging him down. Another pair grasped his ankles. More coiled around his waist.
He sank.
Faster.
Deeper.
Until a faint glow appeared below him.
Green.
A soft, eerie green shining through the water like an underwater lantern.
Then she appeared.
A girl—
or rather, a shadow shaped like one—
drifting toward him through the dark.
Long hair floated around her head like black seaweed, waving in the unseen currents. Her body was a silhouette made of smoke, shifting and wavering.
But her eyes—
Her eyes were unmistakably alive.
Bright green.
Glowing.
Watching him with an emotion he couldn't name.
Alex struggled. The black hands tightened, pulling him further down. The girl's form grew clearer as she approached—still shadow, still formless except for those piercing eyes.
When she finally reached him, she leaned close enough that he could feel her cold breath on his cheek.
Her lips moved slowly.
Her voice was almost a whisper—
yet it reverberated inside his skull as though she was speaking directly into his thoughts.
"If only you didn't make the deal…"
Alex froze.
Her voice—
It was familiar.
Not perfectly. Not fully.
But something in its tone—something soft, something almost sorrowful—scratched at the edge of a memory.
Before he could answer, the black hands jerked violently, dragging him downward again.
The girl's face blurred.
Her green eyes dimmed.
Her voice echoed one last time, fading into a whisper:
"You never should have agreed…"
And then—
SILENCE.
He fell.
Fell.
Fell—
Alex jolted upright.
His chest heaved, lungs dragging in air like he'd been drowning for real. His fingers clawed at the floor, trying to find something solid.
Instead, they touched…
Concrete.
Cold. Damp. Familiar.
He blinked rapidly, trying to orient himself.
Dim light flickered above him—
a candle, nearly melted down to its base, struggling not to die.
The walls were cracked cement.
Pipes dripped slowly in the corner.
Half-rusted metal shelves stood unevenly beside a stack of boxes.
A sewer.
His sewer.
Alex stared.
"What…? How…?"
A soft thump sounded beside him.
Arte sat on top of a crate, calmly licking his paw.
"Well," the cat said without emotion, "you fainted."
Alex gaped. "I—what—why am I—"
"I transported us back," Arte interrupted. "Your body reached its limit. You collapsed. Again."
Alex pressed a shaking hand to his forehead. His pulse was still racing. His skin was clammy. The dream clung to him, heavy and cold, her words echoing in the back of his mind.
Unlike normal dreams, this one hadn't faded.
Arte watched him quietly.
Alex swallowed hard.
His heart still raced from the dream—
the girl's shadow,
her voice,
those glowing green eyes that cut through the darkness like knives.
He barely had time to steady his breath when something bumped against his leg.
Clink.
Alex looked down.
A small tin cup sat on the floor, pushed there by Arte's paw.
"Drink," the cat said.
Alex blinked, still shaken. "…Water?"
"Drink," Arte repeated, more firmly this time.
Alex lifted the cup and took a quick gulp.
The taste hit instantly.
Bitter.
Rotten.
Metallic.
He gagged—
then spat the liquid across the floor with a sharp cough.
"BLEH—what the hell is that?!"
Arte didn't look bothered in the slightest. He sat down, licking his paw with the calm of a creature that cared nothing for human suffering.
"You must drink it," Arte said, matter-of-fact. "It will bring your strength back."
"That's not water!" Alex choked, wiping his tongue with the back of his hand. "It tastes like death and old shoes mixed with poison!"
Arte tilted his head. "An accurate description."
Alex stared, horrified. "Arte. What. Is. In. That. Cup."
The cat's tail curled.
"Scorpion blood."
Alex froze.
His brain stopped processing.
"…Scorpion… what?"
"Blood," Arte repeated cheerfully. "From the ones you killed. Well, extracted. Technically 'soul-blood.' Both terms work."
Alex made a sound that wasn't human.
More like a dying bird.
Then he doubled over and gagged again, staring at the floor in pure betrayal.
"I—I DRANK THAT?! You—You made me DRINK MONSTER BLOOD?!"
Arte gave a slow nod. "Not enough. Finish it."
"FINISH—?! Arte, I'm gonna THROW UP MY SOUL—"
"It's good for you."
"GOOD? GOOD?! Since when is drinking monster BLOOD good for ANYONE?!"
Arte lifted his paw, motioning gracefully at Alex's trembling form.
"Since you are a Soul Harvester. Those creatures were filled with raw spiritual poison, condensed power, and fragments of ancient magic. Most of their energy dissolves when their souls are taken, but the physical residue—the blood left behind—still holds value."
Alex stared at the cup.
He stared at Arte.
He stared at the cup again.
"So," he said slowly, voice shaking, "you're telling me I'm supposed to drink this gross, cursed liquid because… what… it's healthy?"
Arte nodded. "Quite."
Alex shook his head so fast his damp hair whipped his cheek. "No. No way. Never. I don't care if it gives me super strength or glowing abs—"
"It will stabilize your soul," Arte interrupted.
Alex froze.
Arte continued, "It keeps your new abilities from tearing you apart from the inside. Soul-blood is rare. Worth more than you realize. Most Arcana would kill for even a sip."
Alex blinked once.
Twice.
Then gagged softly at the lingering taste still stuck in his mouth.
"You're telling me," he croaked, "that scorpion blood is… valuable?"
"Extremely," Arte said. "And now that you've tasted it, you may as well finish the cup."
Alex stared at the cup like it was a bomb wrapped in poison dipped in misery.
"…Arte?"
"Yes?"
"If I die from this—
I'm haunting you."
Arte smirked.
"You won't die."
Alex groaned—a long, painful, defeated sound—and lifted the cup again with shaking hands.
"This is disgusting," he muttered.
Arte smiled, whiskers twitching.
"Strength often is."