The deeper Nero ventured into the forest, the thicker the trees grew, their twisted limbs intertwining together like a thick spider web, blocking out the sunlight. He hadn’t seen or heard anything, his walk so far had been entirely uneventful. Perhaps the broken man who had warned him had been just that—broken, hallucinating monsters that weren’t there.

  “No,” Nero thought, shaking the thought away. “People don’t just break like that.”

  The man’s psyche had been shattered, yes, but there was something in his eyes—something beyond madness. A depth of despair, a resignation, that couldn’t be explained away as mere insanity. Turn back, the man had warned.

  Nero had ignored his words. Why? What had driven him forward? Was it simply his desire to continue moving, to reach those distant mountains?

  Was that it? The first human he had seen since awakening in this strange world, the first sign that he wasn’t truly alone. And he hadn’t cared. Why hadn’t he felt the pull of connection, the relief that should’ve come from finding another soul in such a desolate place? Instead, he had dismissed the man’s warning without a second thought, and in doing so, had likely left him for dead.

  What had made him so focused on his own uncertain purpose that he couldn’t even bring himself to offer the smallest gesture of empathy? Perhaps it was fear—fear of becoming entangled with someone else. Maybe it was self-preservation, an instinct that told him to keep moving, to avoid distraction. Or maybe it was something deep, something more intrinsic. A lingering thread from the man he had been before all this. Could it be remnants of his former personality, that old self before the memory loss, before the fractured sense of identity, still influencing his decisions, even now?

  Nero’s hand curled into a fist. No matter how he tried to push the thought away, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something about him was wrong, fundamentally, irreversibly wrong. It wasn’t just the missing memories, or the voice in his head. It was something deeper than that, as if he himself was broken, like a flaw in the foundation of something that should have been whole.

  The wind shifted, carrying with it a sharp, metallic stench that swept through the trees.

  Ahead—carnage. Bodies sprawled across the earth, mangled and torn, limbs twisted at unnatural angles. Deep, jagged gashes marred the victims' flesh; some torsos were split open, spilling their insides in grotesque patterns. Limbs lay scattered, torn from sockets, twisted beyond recognition.

  The earth around them had been churned and torn, as though something massive had dug through the ground with brutal force, leaving deep ruts and gouges. A thick, dark pool of blood had collected in the crater-like holes, reflecting the pale light in a sickening sheen.

  ‘Were these his friends?’ Nero thought, his chest tightening as he gazed at the scene before him. Their expressions were frozen in a final, twisted moment of terror, their eyes wide and glassy.

  The bodies were still fresh, the blood glistening under the dim sunlight. It hadn’t fully congealed, still wet enough to shimmer as it soaked into the dirt. Insects that resembled flies buzzed lazily above the bodies. ‘This didn’t happen too long ago.’

  A disturbance in the brush alerted Nero. Something rustled behind him—sharp, close, fast.

  He didn’t have time to look back; he ducked just as something swung overhead, the rush of air slicing past his ear. His heart pounded, adrenaline flooding his veins. With a swift motion, guided by training long forgotten, he dropped to his hands and kicked backward, a powerful strike aimed at his attacker.

  Feeling the blow land, followed by a sickening thud, he sprang to his feet, spinning to fully face the threat he faced.

  A monstrous creature stood before him. It stood hunched, towering at nearly seven feet, its body draped in rough, weathered skin that resembled the hide of a wild animal, scarred and patched from countless battles. Its arms were unnaturally long, ending in sharp, lethal claws. The creature’s legs were thick and powerful, built for swift, deadly movements. Its face was a twisted mass of bone and sinew, with pale eyes that gleamed unnaturally in the darkness.

  The creature lunged, a blur of teeth and claws.

  He dodged—barely—just as the creature’s hooked fangs sank into the air where he had stood a moment before.

  Nero could feel it—the pull to summon Sinthos, the power that lay just within his reach, waiting for him to seize it. But as his hand instinctively reached to the side, a part of him hesitated. He could feel Sinthos’s hunger, its thirst for something dark, and the thought of unleashing it now, made him pause. He didn’t want to. Not yet.

  The creature circled, its gaze fixed on him with a predatory focus, as if sensing his inner conflict. It lunged again, faster this time, its claws slicing the air with deadly precision.

  Nero sidestepped, but it was too late—the creature’s claw scraped across his left shoulder, the tip tearing through fabric and skin with a sickening rip. Pain flared as blood welled and dripped down his arm. The creature recoiled, sensing the wound, its hunger deepening.

  Nero gritted his teeth, fighting through the pain. ‘Focus,’ he told himself. The world around him seemed to narrow, his senses sharpening despite the pain. Something stirred within him, an unfamiliar surge of power. His muscles tightened, strength flooding his limbs.

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  He had no idea where it came from—he didn’t care. It was there, and now he could kill this thing.

  With a snarl, the creature surged forward, its claws slashing with a terrible force. But this time, Nero was ready.

  The creature's claws slashed through the air, but Nero was already in motion, ducking under its outstretched arm and driving a fist into its face. The blow connected with a solid thud, knocking the creature’s head back. The blow landed hard, but the creature barely flinched.

  ‘It's not enough,’ Nero’s thoughts screamed ‘I need something—a weapon.’

  The creature swiped at him again, even faster this time. Nero sidestepped, but the claw grazed his side. A flare of pain shot through him, but he forced himself to stay upright.

  Nero’s eyes frantically searched for something—anything to use. There, a rock, sharp-edged and heavy, lodged in the dirt just a few feet away.

  With a grunt, Nero lunged for it, his fingers scraping against the jagged surface as he seized it in his hand.

  The creature was upon him, its claws swiping down as it sought to strike while Nero was still rising. But Nero was already moving, twisting just in time to avoid the fatal blow.

  His veins bulged unnaturally as he gripped the rock in his right hand. A rush of adrenaline surged through him. He imagined the damage it would do to the creature’s skull if it connected. Without hesitation, he swung the rock with all his strength. It slammed into the creature’s face with a sickening crack, the impact vibrating through his arm. The creature staggered back, blood spurting from the wound, its eyes dazed and unfocused.

  Not wasting a breath, Nero crashed into the creature, driving it to the ground with all his weight. He swung the jagged rock in a brutal arc. The first strike landed with a sickening crack, and the creature let out a garbled scream, its skull splitting under the force. But Nero didn’t stop. Again and again, he slammed the rock down, each blow splintering bone and tearing through the creature’s head. Blood and fragments of skull sprayed with each strike. He pounded, fueled by a rage that drowned out everything else.

  Finally, the creature’s struggles ceased. Its body went limp beneath him, its skull nothing more than a shattered mess of blood and bone. The rock fell from Nero’s hand, slick with gore, and he staggered back, collapsing onto the ground with a dull thud.

  His chest heaved with each ragged breath, the world around him spinning as the adrenaline began to fade.

  Nero looked down at the mangle corpse, the weight of what he had done settling over him. The rage that had fueled his actions ebbed away, leaving behind a hollow feeling in his chest. His hands trembled, not from fear, but from the intensity of what he had just unleashed.

  For long moments, Nero sat in silence, his mind untethered, floating in the aftermath. The only sound was his own breathing—harsh and uneven.

  His breath steadied, but his muscles remained tense. He flexed his fingers, feeling the warmth of blood clinging to his skin. Maybe he should have felt something more—regret, horror, satisfaction—anything. But there was only the quiet hum of survival.

  He exhaled sharply and pushed himself to his feet, his body still thrumming with leftover adrenaline. His gaze drifted back to the creature’s remains, this had been the monster that the man had warned him about. Presumably.

  And what a monster it was. He’d nearly died several times. If not for his instincts—if not that sudden surge of power, he would’ve been the one lying in a pool of blood.

  “It felt good, didn’t it?”

  Nero closed his eyes. He should’ve expected this.

  “The way you crushed that thing's skull, the way its blood painted your skin. You didn’t hesitate. Not this time.” Sinthos’s voice was smooth, almost pleased.

  “I did what I had to,” he muttered.

  “Did you?” Sinthos’s voice dripped with amusement. “Sure, you did what was necessary to survive. But you could’ve stopped after the first strike—it was dead by then. The second, the third—unnecessary. But you didn't stop, did you? You kept going. You wanted to. You enjoyed it.”

  Nero was silent, his fingers curling into fists at his side “Shut up.” His own voice, raw and haggard.

  “Oh, don’t pretend you didn’t feel it—the rush, the power. Satisfaction.” Sinthos chuckled, echoing in the back of his mind. “Now imagine the pleasure you would get from using the sword.”

  Sinthos continued. “You can lie to yourself all you want. But deep down, you know the truth. Power is the only thing that matters. Everything else is a distraction.”

  Before Nero could respond, something else caught his attention—a soft rustle in the distance, faint, but clear. He froze, every muscle locking in place. His eyes darted toward the sound, but he couldn’t see anything. Still, the hairs on the back of his neck rose, a warning he couldn’t ignore.

  Then—he saw it. Out of the shadowy tree line, a shape shifted, its form barely visible against the darkness. And then another. And another. With each passing second, more revealed themselves—copies of the creature he had butchered only minutes ago. Their forms slithered from the forest’s edge, their eyes glimmering in the faint light, unblinking.

  Nero stood wide-eyed, his breath caught in his throat. They were everywhere. At least a dozen of them, all emerging from the depths of the forest, each one a reflection of the creature he had slain.

  Sinthos’s voice returned, twisted with a dangerous edge. The amusement was gone, replaced by mocking satisfaction. “You can’t outrun this, Nero. You can’t fight them off with a rock. You know what you have to do”

  The weight of his words sank deep into Nero’s chest. He didn’t want to do it. He didn’t want to embrace the sword. But his body betrayed him, driven by an instinct far stronger than his reluctance. Survival screamed louder than any hesitation.

  Nero’s eyes flickered to the ground, his body tense, his pulse hammering in his ears. There was no time for hesitation. His hand moved with brutal urgency, reaching out before his mind could catch up. His fingers brushed the air, a sharp spark of energy thrumming through the space as if the sword was already there, waiting.

  The earth beneath him seemed to stir, and with a deep, resonating hum, the blade began to materialize, twisting out of the air, solidifying into familiar shape. In the blink of an eye—there it was. The hilt settled into his palm, its weight familiar.

  With a roar of frustration, Nero stepped forward, the blade flashing through the air in a vicious arc. His body moved on its own, guided by something darker, something primal.

  Nero’s teeth ground together. And for the first time, he surrendered to the darkness—because in this moment, there was no room for hesitation. Only survival.

  And then—the first creature lunged.