Only the blaring of alarms pierced the silence, the shrill wail echoing through Felix's quarters as dim red emergency lights bathed the room in a hellish glow.
He glanced down at his watch, fingers moving instinctively to message William—but the screen flashed a dull error. The lockdown had killed the network.
"Damn it," he muttered.
He crossed the room and pressed his ear against the cold steel door. For a moment, he just listened—eyes closed, breath held.
Muffled footsteps pounded down the corridor outside, frantic and disordered. A sharp crack rang out—gunfire. Then another.
Felix clicked his tongue, jaw tightening.
"Guns? All they'll do is slow it down…"
Felix moved away from his door, his mind racing. The instructors should be on their way—six, maybe seven minutes out, coming from the barracks on the far side of the complex. The gunfire he'd heard must have been the guards, scrambling to hold the demon creature back, but all they could do was probably slow them down.
Then a scream tore through the blaring alarms—raw, ragged, and terrifyingly close. Felix snapped his head toward the sound. It was coming from the room right next door.
Heart hammering, he pressed his ear against the cold, unyielding wall, straining to catch every detail. What he heard wasn't a normal scream—it was gargled and choked, like someone screaming while drowning.
A cold shiver snaked down his spine, and dread settled deep in his gut. This wasn't just panic. This was something far worse.
"The guy next door... what was his name?"
Felix muttered under his breath.
"I don't remember. But I do know one thing—his Ether scaling was a two."
Felix backed away, mind racing through grim possibilities. Either the guy next door was being ripped apart by something unspeakable—or worse, he'd failed to subdue his demon, and now Felix might be facing a new snaggle-toothed nightmare pressing against the other side of this wall.
No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than a loud bang echoed against the metal.
"Option two, huh? Just great," Felix muttered, heart hammering.
He dashed to his desk, yanked his knife free, and dropped into a fighting stance. His breath came shallow as a bead of sweat trickled down his cheek. Every muscle tensed, every nerve screaming as he listened.
Then—another, louder bang. The wall itself groaned and buckled, denting inward like a steel cage about to give way.
"Damn it! Damn it! It's going to get in!" Felix hissed, eyes wide with alarm.
He watched in horror as the metal began to creak and scream under the creature's relentless assault, the sound scraping through the alarms like a scream of its own.
"This won't do. I need something more,"
Felix muttered, eyes scanning the sparse room.
His gaze landed on the bed—sturdy, metal-framed, bolted to the floor.
"That'll have to do."
Grunting with effort, Felix grabbed hold of the frame and strained against the bolts. Metal screeched in protest, but with a final wrench, the bed tore free.
He shoved it hard against the wall that was already beginning to bulge, creating a makeshift barricade between himself and the imminent threat.
Then his eyes flicked to the corner, where his longbow rested against the wall, quiver nearby.
Snatching it up, he knocked an arrow, pulling the string taut and aiming at the shadowed wall.
Maybe I can get one shot off. Maybe two.
If I'm lucky.
Because after that... it's going to be close combat, and I'm going to have to be ready.
Felix waited—every muscle coiled, every breath held. It felt like an eternity, though only seconds had passed.
Then it happened.
With a deafening screech of tearing metal, the wall finally gave way, crumpling inward like paper. Something massive forced its way through the breach.
Felix didn't wait to see what it was. The moment the opening appeared, he loosed his first arrow, the bowstring snapping with a sharp twang.
He didn't pause. Didn't breathe. He reached for the next arrow, drawing it swiftly from his quiver and nocking it with practiced hands.
And then he saw it.
The creature was a twisted mockery of a human—at least, it may have been once. Its limbs were too long, joints bending in unnatural directions. Sickly gray skin stretched taut over a grotesquely thin frame, ribs protruding like jagged armor. Its head was elongated, eyes sunken but glowing faintly with a pale, predatory light. From its mouth stretched rows of mismatched fangs, warped and glistening with saliva, each one hooked like a fishing barb.
It let out a shriek—a wet, gargling roar—and lunged through the gap, maw wide and ready to devour.
Felix released his second arrow.
But Felix's shot only grazed the creature; the arrow skittered past and clanged into the ragged remnant of the steel wall behind it. He barely had time to reach for another when the creature crashed into him, slamming him to the ground and sending his bow skidding across the cold floor.
The abomination reared over him, jaws yawning. On instinct, Felix jammed his forearm into its maw. Fangs punched through flesh. Hot, carrion breath washed his face as pain detonated up his arm, ripping a raw scream from his throat.
"Damn it—damn it! Get off me, you damned beast!"
Felix stretched for the knife, pain gnawing through his ribs as his teeth ground together. His fingers brushed the hilt—then claws pierced into his side, hot and sharp, sinking through muscle. He hissed a curse, ripped the blade from its scabbard, and drove it into the creature's torso.
It screeched—wet and feral—and lunged harder, jaws tearing at his forearm like a saw. Felix stabbed again. And again. Each thrust was a rhythm of panic and fury until the blade found itself in the abominations temple. What was left of what was once the creatures eyes, went wide, a final flicker of life.
"Die, fucker."
He twisted the blade as the body went slack and collapsed onto him, heavy and reeking, its breath ending in a rattle against his chest.
Felix let his head fall back to the floor and sighed. Then he let out a loud laugh,
"Not yet! You haven't gotten me yet!"
Just as he yanked his arm free from the creature's maw, blood slick and muscles trembling, he tore strips of fabric and hastily bound the wound. His breath came in ragged gasps. He moved to stand—but his knees buckled.
He staggered, reaching out blindly for the wall, but misjudged the distance.
He crashed to the ground.
A low, sardonic voice echoed in his mind:
"Losing focus, huh? Wasn't that one of the symptoms?"
Felix let out a weary sigh, the cold steel of the wall biting into his back as he leaned against it. Then, against all reason, he laughed—a dry, bitter sound.
"Me and my big mouth," he muttered.
A crooked grin spread across his face. He raised his fist to the ceiling in defiance, then slowly, deliberately, extended his middle finger.
"Come on, then!"
But even as the words left his lips, his body betrayed him. His head slumped forward. His limbs went slack.
Leaving only the sound of the still blaring alarms.
Felix's eyes snapped open—
Only… he wasn't lying down. He was standing.
And he had no idea where he was.
Thick fog curled around his boots, swallowing everything beyond a few feet in any direction. A pale, colorless nothing stretched on endlessly.
"Fog. Fog. More fog," Felix muttered, voice heavy with irritation.
With no better option, he picked a direction and started walking.
And walking.
And walking.
"Gods! How much fog can there be?!" he shouted into the void, his voice bouncing back at him, muffled by the mist.
There was no answer.
Just fog.
He kept moving, his steps slow and deliberate, thoughts starting to spiral as the silence dragged on.
Is this my mind? he wondered. Why's it so empty?
Wait… does that mean my head's empty?
He scowled. No. This wasn't his doing.
The demon. It had to be. Some illusion. A trap.
But then—something changed.
A shape materialized in the distance, blurry at first, just a dark smear in the pale haze. Felix squinted. It was a wall…? No—fabric. Curtains.
As he approached, the scale of them became clear. They towered above him, enormous crimson drapes hanging from… somewhere high above. He couldn't see the top—fog still ruled the sky.
Gold tassels hung from folds as thick as tree trunks, swaying gently even though there was no wind.
He raised a hand, tentatively reaching out to brush the velvet surface—
But before his fingers touched it, the curtain silently parted.
Behind it? Nothing. A void. Absolute, starless black.
Felix froze, hand still mid-air. He stared into the abyss for a long moment.
Then, slowly, he turned to glance back at the endless sea of fog behind him.
He smirked. A grin pulled across his face—sharp, dark, defiant.
"Well," he said, stepping forward,
"What do I have to lose?"
Felix stepped forward, crossing the threshold into the unknown.
As his boot met the unseen floor beyond the velvet divide, a strange hush fell over him—thicker, heavier than before. He paused, compelled to glance back.
The crimson curtains were slowly, silently drawing shut behind him, as if moved by unseen hands.
Golden tassels swayed gently in their wake, and the sliver of fog-lit light on the other side began to vanish—inch by inch, breath by breath, until the last flicker of the outside world blinked out.
Darkness swallowed everything.
Felix was alone in a place without sound, without shape—without anything.
Not even his own shadow followed him here.
He then muttered, "…Here we go."