"Survival of the fittest," Atlas muttered under his breath, each word heavy with the weight of truth. His golden eyes glimmered faintly in the dim light, scanning the jagged horizon ahead as if searching for answers written in the cracks of the earth. "A harsh statement but true nonetheless. Adapting isn't enough—it's only a step. A small step."
He paused, turning to face the captain who sat slumped against his back. Her arms were wrapped tightly around him, her heartbeat hammering through the thin fabric of his tunic like a war drum calling soldiers to battle. She didn't speak, but he could feel her tension—the way she clung to him, not out of fear, but out of resolve. Resolve that burned brighter than any fire.
"We may be weak right now," he continued, his voice low and steady despite the chaos swirling inside him, "but we have always been weak. And yet, at the end, Humanity won anyway and so We will Win." He glanced over his shoulder, catching her gaze briefly before looking away. The intensity in her eyes made his chest tighten.
"Captain," he said finally, his tone softening just enough to betray vulnerability beneath the steel. "Do you trust me?"
Her silence stretched longer than it should have, but when she spoke, her words landed with the force of an oath carved into stone. "…Atlas, you saved my life and lost your arm in doing so, so belive me when i say it, from now on: my trust and my life are in your hands, now and always." Her voice trembled slightly, cracking under the strain of emotions she refused to let spill. But there was no hesitation in her grip—no wavering in the strength of her conviction. She saw it clearly now, the burning fire within him. A flame so fierce it could cut through despair itself.
For once, Atlas didn't argue. Didn't deflect or downplay what she'd said. Instead, he nodded sharply, swallowing hard against the lump rising in his throat.
"Hold on," he commanded, shifting her weight securely onto his back. Then, without another word, he took off running. Faster and faster, until the world blurred into streaks of shadow and starlight. The night cloaked them like a second skin, hiding their movements from prying eyes while shielding them from the horrors lurking beyond sight. For now, they had the advantage—the demon might be strong, but even monsters feared the dark when they couldn't see.
They ran and ran, Atlas's muscles screaming with every step. His missing hand throbbed like a phantom limb, reminding him of the price he'd already paid. Yet he pushed forward, driven by something deeper than survival—a purpose ten times higher than necessity demanded. That was humanity's greatest weapon, wasn't it? The ability to aspire, to dream of a future worth fighting for, no matter how impossible it seemed.
"Where are we going?" the captain asked after hours of relentless running. Her voice was barely audible above the pounding of their synchronized heartbeats, fragile but unbroken.
"…within the Dark Continent," Atlas replied, his voice tight with determination.
Silence followed—thick, suffocating, and electric with unspoken thoughts. For a full minute, neither of them spoke. All that remained was the rhythmic slap of feet against dry ground and the occasional rustle of leaves stirred by unseen winds. Atlas could feel her pulse quicken against his spine, her fingers digging into his shoulders like anchors holding onto sanity. But she said nothing. Only gripped him tighter, choosing to follow him into madness rather than abandon him to face it alone.
Gateway of the Dark Continent.
Finally, they arrived.
Atlas slowed to a halt, his breath ragged and uneven as he stared down into the abyss before them. Dry rocky mountains gave way to a deep valley shrouded in perpetual darkness. Even the early morning sun couldn't penetrate its depths, leaving it untouched by time or light. It was here—the entrance to the Dark Continent.
People misunderstood what the Dark Continent truly was. They thought of dense forests teeming with monsters, jungles where danger lurked behind every tree. But those were mere illusions crafted by fear. In reality, the Dark Continent was a pit. A massive, endless chasm that grew darker and more treacherous the further one ventured inward. This valley was its gateway—a place where shadows swallowed sound and hope alike.
Atlas's truth eyes scanned the expanse, noting the absence of life. No animals, no monsters. Just emptiness stretching endlessly before them. They had outrun everything else—the beasts, the demons—but none of that mattered anymore. What lay ahead was far worse.
"…Are you ready?" he asked.
"Are you sure...?" Something growled from behind.
Atlas didn't turn. He didn't need to. The stench of sulfur was unmistakable—a foul reminder of the monster that had been hunting them for days. His muscles tensed, every nerve screaming at him to run, but he held his ground. For her sake.
"....well, you forced us." Atlas replied, his voice dripping with venom as he slowly turned, placing the captain down on unsteady legs. She shivered violently, sweat beading on her forehead even before the demon stepped fully into view. Her wide eyes darted between Atlas and the grotesque figure looming closer, its claws glinting wickedly in the dim light.
Atlas took another ten steps back, positioning himself near the edge of the valley. "Ah ah…" he taunted, wagging his forefinger like a teacher scolding a child. "I know if we go below, you aren't allowed to follow anymore."
The demon paused, his smirk easily visible"...hahahaha..." The demon laughed, low and guttural, the sound reverberating through the air like thunder. "So you know about the restrictions? But there are things worse than me down there..." it warned, its crimson eyes gleaming with malice.
"Atlas," the demon called, ignoring the captain's trembling form entirely. Its voice softened, almost persuasive now. "Let's just end this charade. I've been following you not for blind murder." It paused, letting the words hang heavily in the still morning air. "Let's make a deal."
"Like you made with all… my people!!" The captain shouted all of a sudden, her voice cracking under the weight of rage and fear. Tears streamed down her face, but she stood tall despite her shaking knees.
The demon dismissed her outburst with a flick of its clawed hand. "I will let her go," it promised, its tone smooth as silk yet laced with deceit. "Actually, I'll take her to the human city myself. And in exchange…" It extended one grotesque hand toward Atlas, its jagged nails scraping against the rocky ground. "…become a DEMON, Atlas."
There was only silence. Not because Atlas hesitated or doubted, but because the offer pierced something deeper within him—something primal and fated. Even in the game, Atlas remembered. In those endless loops of death and rebirth, Atlas always ended up joining hands with the Demon Queen, becoming her loyal follower. A pawn sacrificed to the whims of fate, doomed to die by Lara's blade no matter what choices he made. Whether players chose romance routes or tragedy arcs, whether they sought forbidden love between siblings or heroic sacrifice, the outcome remained the same: Atlas became a demon.
"Immortality, women, kingdoms—you name it," the demon coaxed, its voice honeyed poison. "All shall be yours. I'll even put in a good word for you to the Demon Queen, should you wish. Just join us, Atlas. Leave your mortal flesh behind. You're worth it. Worth all the chase, all the hassle I've endured to bring you here. Step away from the pit and come to me….."
But Atlas wasn't listening—not really. His mind raced with memories of the game, of countless deaths and failures. Of lives lived and lost. He thought of the chaos, the bloodshed, the despair that followed him wherever he went. Was this why? Was this the reason everything happened? All the suffering, all the pain—it wasn't random. It was orchestrated. Fated. Because Atlas was destined to become a demon?
"...the Demon Queen?" he whispered, his voice hollow, barely audible over the wind howling through the valley. "Am I truly sealed to that fate? To become a demon? Did all this happen—all the death, all the chaos—because I was fated to betray humanity?"
For a moment, doubt crept in. Doubt so sharp it made his heart bleed a bit. But then Atlas clenched his jaw, his remaining hand curling into a fist. No. No, no, no, NO!
He had fought too hard, bled too much, to escape death's grip once already. He would do it again. He would defy this fate, like he defied everything until now, like in the world of his past life and the world he was living now, he would not change, the 'right' was not the world or fate, the only 'right' was himself, no Demon nor God could change that.
With a snarl, Atlas flipped the demon off, raising his middle finger high. Then, without another word, he scooped the captain into his remaining arm and leapt off the cliff.
"Fuck off," he spat as they plummeted into the abyss.