The corridor was a tunnel of endless darkness.
The monster ran—if that clumsy, uncoordinated movement could be called running—while his mind still couldn't process what was happening. The stone walls blurred past, briefly illuminated by the purple glow that seemed to emanate from his own body.
I have to find a way out. I have to find a way back. This can't be real.
But the pain in his legs—his claws—hitting the floor was real. The cold air entering his lungs—do monsters have lungs?—was real. The panic growing in his chest was heartbreakingly real.
"Halt!"
The hero's voice echoed behind him, distant but clear. Valerio and the others were chasing him. Of course they were chasing him.
"Don't run, beast!" the paladin shouted, his voice hoarse from effort. "Face us!"
They don't understand. They can't understand.
He quickened his pace—or tried to. Every movement was a struggle. He wanted to turn left and his body turned right. He wanted to jump over an obstacle and his foot tripped over it. It was like learning to walk again, but with a thirty-meter-tall body and reflexes that didn't respond.
"Get ready!" he heard the mage's voice. "I'm going to slow it down!"
He felt the mana in the air before he saw the spell. A blue light behind him, and suddenly his legs moved as if through thick water. Time distorted around him, each step requiring twice the effort.
Great. Just great. As if this wasn't hard enough.
"Now!" Valerio shouted.
And the world exploded.
***
For humanity!
Valerio's sword blazed with all the light he had accumulated in years of battle. The sacred blade, blessed by the gods themselves, rose above his head and descended with the force of a meteor.
The impact was perfect.
The blade sank into the beast's back—and Valerio felt something he had never felt in his entire life as a hero.
Nothing.
The sword bounced off.
As if he had struck pure steel. As if the creature's hide was harder than any armor he had ever faced.
"What?!" he gasped, but had no time to process it.
Kael was already in the air, his golden spear spinning like a whirlwind. He had pierced dragons with that spear. He had split a stone titan in two. It was the deadliest weapon that existed against large creatures.
The tip found the beast's side.
And it broke.
Kael fell to the ground, staring in disbelief at the broken shaft in his hands. Half the spear—the half with the tip—lay useless a few meters away.
"No... it can't be..."
Aldric didn't hesitate. He charged with his shield forward, ready to ram the creature, to unbalance it, to give the others an opportunity. His shield, the indestructible bulwark, collided with the beast's hind leg.
The beast didn't even notice.
Aldric was flung backwards, his arm numb from the impact's vibration. The shield—the damn shield that had stopped the blow of a lesser god—had a dent.
Elara unleashed her most powerful attack. Celestial flames, capable of reducing an army to ashes. The most destructive spell she knew, the one that had killed the Demon King of the North.
The flames engulfed the beast.
And went out like nothing.
"It's useless," Elara whispered, falling to her knees from exhaustion. "We're not hurting it at all. It's as if..."
"As if we were mosquitoes biting an elephant," Sister Celeste completed, her voice trembling.
Valerio clenched his jaw. It couldn't be. Not after everything they had sacrificed to get there. Not after so many deaths, so much blood, so much effort.
"I won't give up!" he shouted, raising his sword again.
The beast stopped.
***
The itching.
That was the first thing he noticed.
Something was itching on his back. And on his legs. And on his side.
He looked back—a movement that required turning his entire enormous neck—and saw the five heroes, tiny, dusty, but still standing. The one with the sword looked at him with a fury bordering on absurd.
What did they just do?
Then he understood. Those small impacts he had felt, like blades of grass hitting his skin. Those minimal pricks, almost imperceptible.
They were their attacks.
Their "most powerful attacks."
And to him, they had been exactly that: blades of grass.
Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no.
If they thought they could hurt him, if they kept attacking with all their power while he tried to flee, eventually someone was going to get really hurt. Not by his attacks, but by their own defensive movements. Or worse, he might react instinctively and...
"STOP!" he tried to shout.
It wasn't a roar that came out.
It was fire.
A sea of purple flames burst from his mouth, illuminating the entire corridor with an infernal glow. The heat was so intense that the stones on the walls began to melt. The shockwave lifted the heroes off the ground and slammed them against the ceiling, against the walls, against the floor.
And then, silence.
The fire went out as quickly as it had appeared. The smoke dissipated. And he saw what he had done.
The five bodies lay on the ground.
No...
Panic hit him harder than any attack.
I killed them. I killed them. I'm a monster. I'm the monster everyone thinks I am.
But then the nun moved.
Sister Celeste, her habit burned, her face covered in soot, extended a trembling hand. A golden light, weak but present, flowed from her fingers. The light touched Valerio first, then Aldric, then Kael, then Elara.
The four coughed, sat up, alive.
Alive. They're alive.
The relief was so immense he almost cried. Could he cry with this body? He didn't want to find out.
"What... what was that?" Kael gasped, looking at his burned hands. "We could have died."
"But we didn't," said Sister Celeste, her voice broken. "The fire... didn't kill us. It burned us, yes, but... it could have killed us. It should have killed us."
"It was a warning," Elara murmured, her eyes wide. "It's warning us."
"Warning?" Valerio stood up with difficulty, the sword still in his hand. "It's a monster! It doesn't reason!"
"Are you sure?" asked Aldric, and in his voice there was no challenge, only doubt. "Because I saw something in its eyes. I saw..."
"It doesn't matter what you saw," Valerio interrupted. "We have a duty. We have to stop it. If it escapes and regroups with its minions, if it recovers all its strength, there will be nothing we can do. The seal that weakened it won't last forever."
They looked toward the empty corridor. The beast had used those seconds to move away. They could still hear the tremors of its footsteps in the distance.
"It has to be weak," Valerio insisted, more to convince himself than the others. "That's why it's fleeing. That's why it's not killing us. The ancient seal is still working. It can't use all its power."
"It just unleashed a sea of flames that melted the walls," Kael pointed out, holding his broken spear.
"But it didn't kill us. See? Weak. It can't control it."
No one answered. Because everyone knew, deep down, that Valerio's words sounded more like hope than certainty.
"Let's go," said the hero, gripping his sword. "We can't let it escape."
And they ran.
***
The pursuit lasted what felt like an eternity.
Branching corridors, enormous halls, stairs descending into unknown depths. He ran—trotted, rather, because truly running would have collapsed everything—and they followed, tireless, absurd in their determination.
Why don't they give up? Why don't they understand I'm not their enemy?
Every so often, he felt a new attack on his back. More blades of grass. More minimal impacts. They didn't even itch anymore.
But he couldn't ignore them. Because each attack meant they were still there, still chasing him, still believing they had to kill him.
And he couldn't kill them.
Even if he wanted to—and he didn't—he didn't know how to control his body well enough to do something as precise as "not kill." Every move was a lottery. He could try to take a step and bring down a wall. He could try to roar and burn them alive.
So he just ran.
Until he recognized the place.
The marble columns. The vaulted ceiling. The torches.
The initial hall.
He had gone full circle. Through the corridors, through the forks, he had returned to the starting point.
He stopped, panting—do monsters pant?—and looked around with something close to despair.
No exit. No way to escape. I'm trapped here, with them, in this damn game.
The doors opened behind him.
The five heroes entered, breathless, covered in dust and burns, but firm. Valerio at the front, sword ready. Aldric limping slightly. Kael with his broken spear. Elara leaning on Sister Celeste.
But all alive. All determined.
"There's no more escape," Valerio said, and in his voice there was something he couldn't identify. "It's here or never."
They surrounded him, forming a circle around him. Five tiny dots in a gigantic hall, facing a beast that could crush them effortlessly.
And he looked at them, and for a moment—just a moment—he saw himself.
A few hours ago, in his room, in front of the monitor. His avatar, tiny on the screen, facing the World Devourer. Feeling that same fear, that same absurd determination not to give up.
He looked at the five heroes who had faces full of determination, full of unbreakable will to kill him, to make him disappear from the world.
A sea of emotions passed through his mind. He didn't want to die but he also didn't want the heroes to die. He didn't know what to do, so he just stood still.