"Life is a vast, terrifying emptiness, and we are often drowning in the tides of our own minds, gasping for a future that is never promised. But the masterpiece of the human spirit is found in our defiance: to clutch the fragile, little day you hold in your hands and love it fiercely, right now, before the sun sets. To find paradise inside the panic—that is life."
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A boy with no parents, no family, and no history worth remembering trudged forward into the unknown.
Until yesterday, Lucian had been fighting just to survive the winter on Earth, shivering in rags that barely held together. He was a ghost in his own life, unnoticed and unwanted. But now? Now he wore beautiful black armor.
It didn't fit him properly—the chest plate was too broad, and the greaves rattled against his shins with every step—but it was warm. For the first time since his birth, he felt heat trapped against his skin. He had worn the dead guard's helmet as well, the padded interior protecting his face from the biting wind.
He even had food. In the stolen saddlebag bouncing against his hip, there was bread and dried meat. If he ever got the chance to stop, if he ever found a safe place to build a fire, he could cook. The thought of hot food made his mouth water, a sharp contrast to the frozen wasteland surrounding him.
"Hot food," he muttered inside the helmet, voice echoing back at him. "Three years eating garbage, and now I've got meat and bread. All it cost was killing a man." He paused. "Fair trade."
The words felt wrong and right at the same time.
He walked for what felt like an hour, though time was impossible to track under the eternal gray sky.
There was no sun, no shadows, just endless white snow and the sound of his own breathing echoing inside the helmet. He couldn't tell if he was walking toward salvation or death. The monster that had slaughtered the column was still out there lurking, hiding in a blind spot that Lucian's mind couldn't even comprehend.
Suddenly, the landscape changed.
Through the swirling white, two massive shapes emerged on the horizon. They looked like mountains, or perhaps gigantic stones dropped by a god, towering over the wasteland on both sides. They were blurred by the mist, dark and foreboding, but they offered the first break in the monotony he had seen for miles.
As he drew closer, he realized there was a gap between them.
A narrow passage cut through the rock, leading into a darkness that the gray light couldn't reach. He didn't know where it went. He didn't know what was on the other side. But it was the only path forward.
Lucian stepped into the passage.
The environment shifted instantly. The fog, which had been a thin veil outside, thickened into a soup here. It swirled around him, dense and suffocating, reducing his vision to barely a few meters. He couldn't see the mountain walls beside him anymore; he could only feel their oppressive weight.
He walked forward without flinching, though the sound of his boots crunching on the snow seemed dangerously loud in the enclosed space.
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
It was too dark.
Lucian reached into the saddlebag and pulled out the lantern he had taken from the dead horse. He held it up with his left hand, his right hand fumbling to find the mechanism. He twisted the small knob at the base.
Click.
A soft yellow glow flared to life, pushing back the white gloom.
It felt safe. It felt like a small piece of civilization in the wild. But little did he know, in a world of predators, a light in the dark wasn't a shield. It was a lure.
As Lucian walked straight ahead, following the beam of his lantern, a sound cut through the silence behind him.
Rustle.
It was the sound of something heavy dragging itself through the snow.
Lucian stopped. His breath hitched. He slowly turned around, raising the lantern to illuminate the path behind him.
What he saw stole the air from his lungs.
A massive silhouette stood just at the edge of the light, partially obscured by the thick fog. But the outline was unmistakable.
Two thick legs planted in the snow. Above them, a torso that branched out into a nightmare.
Six arms fanned out like the petals of a grotesque flower. And resting atop the bulk were three heads.
It was the creature. The monster that had terrorized the slaves. The beast that had torn the guards apart.
It didn't roar. It didn't rush. It approached him slowly, emerging from the fog with a terrifying, languid confidence. It knew the human ahead was weak. It knew he was pathetic. It knew there was nowhere to run.
Lucian froze, his mind blanking for a fraction of a second as the sheer scale of the monster registered.
His hand went to the sword hilt. For one insane second, he considered fighting.Six arms. Three heads. Twelve feet tall.The thought died as quickly as it formed.
"Fuck dignity," he hissed, and ran.
He spun around and bolted into the darkness.