The smell of metal, rotten flesh, and the hot steam rising from the monster's split body filled the air like a thick mist. Clive stood in the middle of it all with heavy breaths, his sword still dripping black blood, and his body trembling faintly from adrenaline that had not yet faded.
But the cold arrived first.
A cold that crawled up his spine, stabbing silently, like invisible fingers touching his nerves one by one. A cold that did not come from the damp air of the corridor, but from inside him.
From the core.
From the small monster that should have already died.
From something that should no longer possess a voice.
Clive held his breath for a moment, letting the cold flow and then fade. Yet its trace lingered, like a subtle pressure hiding behind his thoughts. An extra breath. An echo. A presence.
The voice appeared almost at the same time.
Not as a foreign whisper. Not as a vague disturbance.
The voice now felt like a part of the deepest flow of his consciousness. Present, but not controlling. Moving alongside his thoughts without breathing.
"You think you have destroyed me."
The tone was flat, cold, with a faint clatter like dry stones scraping together.
"You only shattered my physical form. My will remains intact. Here. Inside you."
Clive did not answer. There was no space for words. Yet his heartbeat slowed by half a beat before returning to normal. He stared at the massive creature still moving before him. The gaping wound on the monster's left ribs continued to spill black blood, forming a growing pool on the floor. The blue light inside its body pulsed erratically, struggling like a heart forced to keep beating at the edge of death.
That power called to him. Pure, raw, wild.
But the voice returned.
"Do not hesitate."
The cold resurfaced. Softer, deeper, like unseen lips moving close to the inner part of Clive's ear.
"Look around you. Your group is dying. Glenn is close to death. The next corridors are darker. Deeper. More deadly."
Clive shifted his gaze slightly to the back without fully turning his head.
Dilos was fighting three small monsters. His movements were fast but losing fluidity. His blade drew sharp arcs of light, yet his shoulders dropped lower each time he blocked an attack. He was protecting almost everyone there.
Ted leaned against the wall, his face pale, blood dripping from his temple to his jaw. Zorilla swung his sword with broken breaths, while Dorde could barely stay standing without support. Two of Glenn's remaining members struggled to fend off small monsters attacking relentlessly from the side.
They were no longer the confident group that had entered about an hour ago. They were the remnants after a long battle that had drained their bodies and their courage.
"You know I am right."
The voice grew softer. More convincing.
"Take his core. Take both of them and give me one. Or give me both. I can show you how to survive. I have seen corridors your people never speak of. I know what you do not."
Clive tightened his grip on his sword. The veins on the back of his hand strained.
He felt terror at the awareness creeping inside him. The small monster had never truly faded. When he absorbed the core, he had not only taken strength. He had opened a door. He had allowed the creature's remaining will to take root in his mind.
What if the other cores were the same.What if each core carried a new voice, a new will, a new push.What would become of him if he absorbed dozens or hundreds of cores.
Would he still be Clive, or a container filled with layered monster voices wrestling for space.
The question did not have time to be answered.
The large monster in front of him growled.
The growl was deep and resonant, shaking the stones of the walls. The monster's red eyes flared brighter, its pupils shrinking into sharp dots, filled with pain and rage blending into a final instinct to kill.
Then it attacked.
Unlike its previous attacks that still held some pattern, this one was nothing but raw instinct. Its massive body lunged forward like a boulder thrown from a cliff. Its hand spread wide, claws curved into a lethal arc capable of crushing a human chest in one swipe.
Air hissed.Wind cracked like a giant whip as the arm swung.
Clive saw the blue light in the monster's abdomen flicker rapidly, like a hidden heart in panic. The monster attacked without caring about its bleeding body.
"Now. Take it or die."
The voice screamed, but Clive felt something else.
His own voice.
Deeper, clearer.
A voice that reminded him of his brothers Caleb and Connor. Of his father and mother. Of the moment he stood at his first screening test. Of the monkey monster that nearly ripped off his face. Of the path he chose with his own consciousness.
He did not come here to become a vessel for monsters.He came to survive.To protect those who believed in him.To grow strong as himself, not as a collection of unfamiliar voices.
Clive exhaled. Very short. Very sharp.
Then he moved.
He did not retreat. He also did not strike the same spot.
He moved forward.
With one swift motion, Clive dashed straight into the monster's attack. He lowered his body at the last moment, causing the creature's arm to sweep just above his head. The claws almost grazed his hair. The heated air from the swing stung his scalp.
The monster shot past him like a charging beast. Clive used the momentum. He pushed off the wall with his foot, spun, and flipped his body. In one clean circular motion, he landed behind the monster.
The creature tried to turn, but its movement was weighed down by the deep wound on its ribs. Its body lurched, losing balance.
Clive did not waste the opportunity.He sliced the monster's left knee with a powerful strike.
The sound of breaking bone was sharp.The monster collapsed with a loud crash, one knee slamming into the stone and kicking up a cloud of dust.
It was enough.
Clive jumped.
Not high, but enough to reach the glowing point on the monster's abdomen.
He gripped his sword with both hands. All of his weight, all of his core strength, all of his resolve gathered at the tip of his blade.
He thrust.
His sword pierced the hard scales, tore through flesh, and slammed directly into the source of the blue light. The sound of ripping flesh echoed wetly. Black blood sprayed out, splashing across Clive's face, running through his hair and down his chin.
The monster screamed.
The long, shrill cry was filled with agony. Its body tensed, then violently trembled like a beast struck by lightning. The vibration spread through the floor, forcing Clive to tighten his grip so he would not be thrown off.
He twisted his sword, splitting from within and widening the wound.
The monster's insides spilled out. The stench filled the corridor instantly, sharp enough to sting his throat.
Among the organs, two glowing points appeared.
One in the chest, flickering weakly.One in the abdomen, brighter, though fading fast.
The monster collapsed entirely. The sound of its massive body hitting the floor echoed through the corridor. Its final breath came as a long exhale that ended abruptly. Its head fell to the side, and its red eyes slowly lost their light.
Silence filled the corridor.
Clive lifted his face. His breaths were uneven. Blood ran down his cheeks, from his hair, down his arms. His back was soaked with sweat. His muscles felt like bowstrings pulled too tight.
But he remained standing.
The voice returned.
"Good."
Cold slid down Clive's spine. The voice sounded pleased, even gentle, though still cold.
"You managed to kill it. Now take the core. Take it and give it to me."
Clive ignored it. He knelt beside the monster's body. His hand reached into the abdomen, pushing through the soft, slippery organs. He found the two solid objects.
He pulled out the cores.
Two spheres of dim blue light, pulsing weakly like dying little hearts.
"Absorb both," the voice hissed again. The tone was softer, almost like an old friend offering something reasonable. "You do not need to give them to me or anyone else. That power is for you."
Clive stared at the cores in his palm. The faint blue light pulsed like a small dying heartbeat. Warm. Tempting. Calling his name.
He lifted his head and looked at every person behind him.
Dilos stood at the end of the corridor, panting heavily, his body covered in slash wounds. His eyes were alert, but exhaustion weighed clearly on him. He was waiting.
Glenn still lay against the wall. His breaths were heavy, his body bruised and bloody. His eyes, usually full of pride and confidence, now held only exhaustion and frustration. And defeat.
Ted leaned weakly against the wall, clutching his broken sword. Zorilla stood nearby, his shoulders rising and falling sharply. Dorde tried to stand straight, but his legs trembled. The two remaining members of Glenn's group stared silently.
All eyes were on Clive.
On the cores in his hands.
On the decision that would determine who had the chance to grow stronger and survive the rest of this processing corridor.
Clive stepped toward Glenn slowly. Not rushing. Not wavering. He knelt beside him, feeling blood soak into his torn pants.
"He needs this core," Clive said, calm yet firm. His voice echoed gently through the quiet corridor. "His injuries are too severe. Without this core, he will not be able to fight with us for the next few days."
Dilos raised an eyebrow. "You are sure?"
Clive turned slightly toward Dilos. "Everyone helped in the fight. Everyone fought. And I want us to keep moving as a group. We still have to clear the remaining corridors. We all need to survive, not just me."
He extended one core to Dilos. The blue glow reflected off Dilos's face, highlighting his wounds and the shadows under his eyes.
Dilos did not take it immediately. He stared long at Clive, trying to pierce through his calmness. Searching for hidden motives. For greed. For lies.
All he found was unwavering resolve.
Finally he accepted the core and gave a small nod. A simple gesture, yet filled with respect.
Glenn opened his eyes fully. His gaze clear, understanding everything, seeing everything.
And breaking inside.
His pride was torn deeper than his wounds.
One of his members helped lift Glenn's body slowly until he was leaning against the wall. Another checked his wounds in a hurried but careful manner.
Ted, Zorilla, and Dorde approached from behind with unsteady steps, their bodies covered in bruises and blood. Yet they were still standing. Still holding on.
"We need to fall back," Dilos finally said. His voice was flat, but there was exhaustion in it that was on the verge of breaking. "Glenn can't fight anymore. And I think we're all close to collapsing. We need recovery. We need a fresh breath."
Clive nodded.
He slipped the remaining core into the inner pocket of his torn clothes. The core gave off an uncomfortable warmth, like a small ember trapped beneath his skin.
The voice in his head stayed silent.
But that silence felt like a faint smile waiting for its chance.
They began to move back. Their formation remained tight, but the rhythm was slow and full of caution. Clive walked at the front, leading the direction. Dilos stayed behind, guarding the group's rear. The others were in the middle, lifting Glenn carefully without worsening his wounds.
The third corridor was now quiet. The remaining small monsters no longer approached. They watched from behind the shadows, their red eyes flickering weakly. When Clive looked back, the creatures slipped into the darkness like smoke.
The journey felt long, longer than when they had first entered.
Each step sounded heavy, uneven, filled with pain. Their breaths echoed through the corridor that had already become a graveyard of blood and flesh. The stench of death clung to their skin like a stain that could not be washed away.
Inside Clive's mind, the voice remained quiet.
But Clive could feel it. A presence that lingered in the darkest corner of his thoughts, like a wild animal waiting for its cage to open again.
They reached the second corridor, then the first. Monster corpses still lay scattered everywhere, now mixed with the fresh ones from the earlier fight. The corridor felt like a massive grave that kept expanding, a garden of death that never stopped growing.
Finally, the light from the exit began to appear in the distance, faint but real.