It had been three years since he was dropped into the well. Two years since the last shred of hope in him died.
The boy who once begged for mercy was gone. What stood now was something else—shaped by hunger, sharpened by pain, carried forward only by hatred.
Every moment had been spent breaking his body against its own limits. Bones ached, muscles tore, but he kept going. Pain was nothing. He was driven by hate and revenge.
The snakes came only when he slept. At first, their poison tore through him, leaving him half-dead on the stone. But now their fangs dug deep and the venom slid useless through his veins. His body had changed, adapted, until the poison itself was part of him. Now it was the snakes who died, choking on his blood. Venom for venom.
He didn't know how it happened. He only knew he liked it. The thought of their poison failing against him made his lips twist into something close to a smile. A bitter, broken thing.
The dark was no longer his enemy. It had become part of him. He noticed everything now—the scrape of scales, the cracks bleeding through the stone, even shadows that twitched when they shouldn't.
He caught a snake as it slid past his ankle and whipped it into the air. His hand came down flat, stiff like the blade he didn't have. One sharp strike, and the body fell apart, scattered into twitching pieces.
"Just you wait," he muttered, voice trembling with rage. "I'll burn the Kurohana clan to the ground."
'Yesss, we will tear them into pieces first, then burn them,' the voice in his head added.
"Yes, yes, that sounds even better," he replied, then jabbed a nail into one of the still-living pieces, lifted it, and flicked it into his mouth.
***
"The first year, I stumbled onto bigger snakes. Deadlier ones. Once, I almost got caught when the clan came to collect venom. That scare forced me deeper, away from the main nest. I dug my own space lower in the well, clawing through stone until it turned into a maze only I knew how to move through.
The next year, I taught myself silence. How to move like a shadow. Even when snakes slithered past, they never noticed me. For six months, I lived that way—unseen, soundless. Watching the well. Studying it. Never finding a way out.
But over time, the snakes grew fewer. I'd been devouring too many, too fast. They weren't breeding enough to keep up. Each hunt took longer. Each meal got smaller.
And something else started gnawing at me. My clan… they stopped coming. Before, they would show up to harvest venom, always the same careless routines. Now their visits grew rare, like they no longer needed the poison at all.
Whatever the reason, I knew one thing: I couldn't stay down there forever. I needed out."
***
'Enough explaining your back story, let's get the hell out of here,' the voice in his head muttered.
"Yeah, yeah," he shot back, lips twitching. "Don't rush me."
After days of preparation, he tied his hair back with his own strands. What was once black now hung silver. In his hand, a rusted sword—pitted, brittle, but still a weapon. Still enough.
He returned to where they'd first thrown him down. The wall loomed high, mocking. He crouched, testing his legs, wondering if he could climb. But the shaft was sealed. Blocked. No way out.
So he followed the tunnels. Step after step until he found it—an opening. Small, but large enough for people to pass through. Faint light leaked from the cracks. Pale. White.
"What do we have here…"
'Freedom!' the voice shouted.
His fingers brushed the edge. Cold scraped his skin, sharp enough to steal his breath. His chest locked, his body forgetting how to breathe fresh air.
Snakes slithered around his feet. One hissed, scales rasping, and in that hiss he thought he heard a word: Go.
"Did you say something?" he asked.
'No… I thought you did. I'm scared… hold me,' the voice whispered.
He sighed, rubbing his temple. "Shut up… and stay quiet."
The weird light stabbed his eyes. He raised an arm, blinking hard. Not sunlight. Torches. Dozens of them, flames clawing at the dark.
Ahead stood a massive black door. Voices carried from the other side—sharp, loud. His breath hitched. Clan? He crept closer, peering through a thin crack.
What he saw froze him.
Two men stood at the front. One carried a sleek longsword, armor light and minimal, built for speed. The other was his opposite—armor thick and heavy, a giant shield strapped to his arm, a hammer across his back.
Behind them were two women. One in a red robe, staff glowing faint in her grip. The other in white and gold, light pooling in her hand, steady and unnatural.
At the center stood another woman. Armor light, but protective. Styled like his clan's. Familiar.
And what they fought wasn't a snake.
It was a serpent.
Dark purple scales gleamed under the torchlight, thick as iron, its coils filling the chamber. He should have flinched. Instead, his mouth watered. After years eating snakes, all he thought was how many meals this one could make.
Then a voice boomed.
"Leave."
"We can't leave, so stop yelling, you fool," he muttered at the voice in his head.
'That wasn't me. I am pretty retty sure that was the snake. …Also, you might want to stop mouthing off to giant monsters. Just saying.'
"Leave now."
It rolled through the chamber like thunder. His heart stilled. He thought madness had finally taken him. But no.
'Yup, definitely the snake. Also, you're not mad, you're just mentally unstable.'
The serpent spoke again.
"Damn you, humans. Leave us alone."
His eyes widened. A talking serpent. And not a lie—her voice was ragged, weak, desperate. She didn't want to fight. She was dying. But the swordsman pressed on, merciless.
The serpent's tail came down like a tree.
The shieldman stepped forward, took the blow head-on. Metal groaned, stone cracked beneath his boots, but he didn't fall. He shoved back, teeth clenched, holding the line.
The assassin vanished from the group and reappeared midair. Her dagger flashed as she drove it into the serpent's eye. The beast shrieked, thrashing so hard dust rained from the ceiling.
"Leave me alone!" the serpent cried, voice breaking.
The swordsman barked, "Boost me!"
The woman in white raised her hand. Blue light wrapped around him, his frame swelling, his sword blazing until it burned like fire itself.
The tail whipped again. The shieldman held.
The robed mage raised her staff high, flames swelling into a sphere that lit the whole chamber. She hurled it. The fireball exploded across the serpent's skull, fire crawling its scales as it screamed.
The beast bled. Begged. But the swordsman gave no time.
Light blazed around him. He vaulted high, blade swelling brighter, and brought it down in one brutal strike.
The sword ripped through scale and flesh.
The serpent split in half.
The ground split beneath its body, cracking wide. A hidden passage opened, stairs sinking deeper into the dark. The five hunters grinned, their faces lit with savage excitement, laughter trailing after them as they vanished below.
Only then did he move.
He stepped forward, closer to the corpse. A glow pulsed faint within its belly. He rubbed his eyes. Still there.
He jammed his rusted sword into the carcass, peeling scale and flesh aside until he found it.
An egg. Small. Pink, speckled white. Like a bird's, but heavier. Warmer. Something shifted inside. Alive.
'That looks tasty. I call dibs.'
"Shut up. This is not food."
His chest tightened. The serpent hadn't been fighting for herself. She'd been protecting this.
He lifted it into the torchlight. A tiny form stirred within.
The air shifted. Voices rose.
The hunters had returned.
"What are you doing here?" one shouted.
"How did you get here?" another added.
The egg slipped. Hit stone. His heart stopped. But it didn't break. The floor beneath cracked faintly instead.
He snatched it back fast. But the assassin's eyes caught him. Sharp. Unblinking.
"I think he found something," the woman in red muttered.
'No we didn't. You're all seeing things. Look behind you—run, run!'
"Damn it, shut up and let me handle this, stupid voice."