"You always were the weakest one," the demon said with a menacing grin too wide for its face. Jean's face.
Jean held back, trying not to respond. He didn't want to antagonize the creature. The walls felt fake, almost like a memory. The memory made the walls feel as if they pulsed like a heartbeat. This wasn't just a stone box; it was a memory. There was emotion. It was like a personal prison, made just for him. Just for his mind.
"Don't fight it," the demon commanded, stepping closer. The mirror had stopped mimicking Jean's movements long ago. "You're meant to adapt. This is your destiny. Adapt, not win. There's a difference."
The crystal began to pulsate on his forearm. He covered it with his hand. "Bullshit. This is fake."
"Wow, you really have grown. Swearing now, are we?" The mind demon smirked, mockingly casual. "I'm real enough to know your every fear. Want me to say your deepest one?"
"Ugh, just stop. Stop it right now!"
The walls behind him began to pulse the same way as his arm. It felt like they were calling him.
Jean turned, ran straight for it, and slammed against the wall. His body hit it with a dull thud. No give.
He backed up. This time, he steadied his breath and jumped for it.
Pain built up, but he had no choice but to try to escape.
Again.
This time, he coiled his digitigrade legs and crashed straight through the wall. A small hole had finally formed.
The wall vibrated under his strike; his muscles tensed under the excruciating pain. Repeated hits to the bone and muscle.
The demon laughed at him. "You think you're just going to brute-force your way through this? I knew you were going to do this."
Jean didn't bother to speak.
After his third jump, the wall rumbled as if it were alive. The wall felt like it was pushing back, trying to fight Jean. But then...
Crack.
The wall split open. Jean tumbled through, landing on the rubble. He quickly pushed himself up off his feet and surveyed his surroundings. The walls glowed red but still pulsed like Jean.
Now Jean stood in a long hallway. It stretched out farther than he could see. Tight, closing.
The walls this time weren't stone. They were covered in spears and swords—so much that you could barely see the wall itself.
The demon's steps echoed behind. It was following, but it wasn't chasing. It felt as if it were breathing down his neck, but it wasn't there.
Jean bolted as fast as he could.
He knew what was happening. His mind was forcing evolution to happen. The farther he went, the more his body would instinctively change.
Pressure = change.
The walls began to slide inward like a shark's jaws. Jean ducked under a blade as he ran, vaulted over a pit, and landed on thin ledges just before a ravine.
He tried to go faster.
He leapt as far as he could.
Midair, he saw the gap was too far for his reach. His hands reached forward, but...
It wasn't enough.
He reached out. His body responded and evolved.
His arms elongated, muscles tore with wet cracking sounds, bones grew, stretching his skin out. His talons dug into the ravine. He threw himself upwards but winced in pain. He landed with a snarl.
The pain from his muscles and bones fixing itself gave him a boost in adrenaline.
He rushed forward as fast as possible. The walls began to move closer. It was closing in on him like a lung collapsing.
More traps. More terrifying jumps. Fire shooting out of the wall. These traps felt like memories—memories of the past. Failures that were projecting as traps.
Each jump and trap made him remember the people he saw die.
The moving walls reminded him of the bloodstains he had seen on the first door. The ravines reminded him of the bodies he saw in the pitfall in the first door too. All the bloody weapons reminded him of just terrible things.
Jean bit his lip. Blood flowed down his chin. "I didn't choose this," he heaved, trying to catch his breath.
The farther he ran, the more his body twisted and distorted itself. It tried to match the threats, but it didn't help.
Longer arms. Hardened bone plates along his back, acting like armor. Talons—sharp and dangerous. He looked demonic. The natural armor formed around his joints. He looked like a death knight. He looked monstrous, but he was designing his body for survival.
Every step twisted his appearance further from something recognizably human.
He still pressed on. He couldn't stop. He knew he couldn't.
He thought he was finally at the end of the corridor. It looked as if it ended abruptly, but once he got closer, the corridor elongated itself. The demon appeared in front of him and just stared menacingly.
Jean glared but did not speak.
He charged at it.
The demon held a hand up.
"Jean, listen..."
Jean rammed through the demon.
The demon shattered into glass shards. The echo of the impact split the hall in two.
The demon's form still moved through the glass shards; it was as if more eyes began to watch. Behind him, the hallway began to fold in on itself.
He carried his legs and ran faster.
The hall twisted and folded behind him. The corridor creaked as it moved in his ears.
It felt as if the corridor was building up pressure so Jean could evolve. Too much change was happening.
He felt the bone armor thicken. Plates of bone shifted up his arms, pressing into his ribcage. It began to lock over his throat. His neck felt as if it was getting choked; his breathing shortened.
He stared at his hands—or what remained of them. No fingers, but blade-like talons. The bones on his elbow curved with a sharp tip.
What have I become?
His chest heaved. A voice—his voice—rose in his skull, twisted by panic.
"You're losing control."
He slammed his claws into the wall beside him, trying to feel pain—anything to ground himself.
He stumbled to a halt at the end of the hall, a dead end.
Silence.
No traps. No dangers. Just a red wall, the sound of his heart echoing through the halls.
Jean took a deep breath.
In.
Out.
In again.
He then sat.
I'm not a monster. I'm not just an animal.
He didn't need to fight. After all, this was just a dream—a mind game.
Not here.
The walls began to slow and stiffen. The ground stopped rumbling. The screams of agony in his head faded to nothingness.
The demon's voice echoed with a loud boom.
"You figured it out, huh... impressive." He snorted in amusement.
It then disappeared and never returned.
Jean turned to look down the calmed hall. The mirror. Still. Bone-like armor covered him—it was like an exoskeleton. He finally stopped shifting. No longer mutating.
He stepped closer to the mirror.
The thing staring back had his eyes—but little else. Bone plates wrapped tight across a broadened chest. Horns curled from his skull like a devil's crown. His claws flexed without instruction.
Jean touched the glass. It was cold.
Is this still me? Or is this all that's left?
While staring at himself, he heard something.
A familiar voice.
Faint but muffled. Behind the red wall.
His system spoke:
STABILIZATION NEEDED... UPDATE: 72% COMPLETE.
Jean didn't understand and overlooked what the system said.
The voice began to cry for help. "No... please. Someone... please..."
Jean skipped quickly. The weight of his body felt awkward. His claws pressed against the wall. It pulsed against his fingertips.
The girl's voice, soft but pitiful. "I don't want this..."
Jean knew who this was.
But if he helped, the evolution would only continue. He might have tamed it for now, but it would get worse.
If he broke this wall, he would have to evolve further.
He took a step backward.
Jean leaned forward.
He rushed forward again, bursting through the stone wall.
The bones in his forearms split as he shielded his face. His horns cracked from his head but quickly regrew. His shoulders bulked under the weight of the armor.
Jean roared like a titan and slammed into the wall.
BOOM.
The wall cracked.
He slammed it again with a giant heave.
CRACK.
Again.
SHATTER.
Light poured through the opening.