The chamber was silent.
Two eyes widened.
Stomach growled.
Hesitant.
He turned back.
His scales relaxed.
There he saw—
Four bodies.
But they were no longer the same.
The first serpent tried to rise— and failed.
Its spine jutted outward in jagged ridges, each breath forcing bone to shift beneath torn scales.
The second did not move at all.
Only its jaw twitched, hanging open too wide, saliva pooling beneath it as if it had forgotten how to close its mouth.
The third watched him.
One eye.
Set too high on its skull.
It blinked slowly.
The last serpent was silent.
Too silent.
Until its tail scraped the stone—
and the sound was wrong.
Something more than just senses screamed.
Undeniable—it was them.
Evolved.
But… could it even be called an evolution?
Arin did not move.
His coils tightened—not in fear, but anticipation.
The qi around him stirred. Not violently
.
Cautiously.
He couldn't understand what they had become.
But one thing was clear.
They weren't weak anymore.
A strange pressure lingered in the air.
Not hostility.
Not familiarity.
Competition.
Arin understood what that meant.
And he accepted it.
Slowly, he lowered his head.
Not in submission—
but in recognition.
The one-eyed serpent watched him closely.
Not with hunger.
Not with confusion.
But with a flicker of awareness.
It didn't make sense.
And yet—
Arin felt it then.
Pressure pressed against his senses.
Uneven. Twisted.
Qi moved inside them—
not circulating,
but forcing its way through flesh that wasn't built to contain it.
He had sheltered them.
Fed them.
Protected them.
And for the first time since then—
uncertainty crept in.
Tongues clicked softly.
Not language.
Not obedience.
Instinct.
Whether it was intelligence, bloodline, or something far older—
Arin knew the truth.
This wasn't loyalty.
It was predators acknowledging the one who stood at their head.
One by one, they lowered themselves.
Not in submission—
but in recognition of the most deadly among them.
Arin's scales loosened.
No imminent danger.
His stomach growled.
He blinked.
The world returned in fragments—weight, hunger, breath.
But his mind remained frozen.
Awareness resurfaced too suddenly.
He slammed his head once against the stone.
Pain flared.
It grounded him.
His stomach clenched.
Hunger spoke first.
Something inside him recoiled—
afraid.
Arin felt himself thinning, stretched between thought and instinct.
The pull was stronger than reason.
He moved.
Slithered forward without deciding to.
Stone rasped against his scales.
His vision smeared.
The world flattened into motion and heat.
Something old forced itself upward.
Not thought.
Not memory.
Hunger.
His scales tightened. Coils drawing in, readying without command.
The urge screamed—
to strike,
to crush,
to end.
Arin dragged in a breath that didn't steady him.
Not again.
To the four serpents.
And everyone alive in that chamber.
The intent was pure and clear.
The four serpents froze.
Not from command—
From instincts.
Scales scraped softly as bodies lowered without permission.
One recoiled, fangs clicked before sealing shut.
Another's coils loosened, spreading out wide in a gesture.
One lowered his body, it was as if there was nothing there.
The one eyed serpent did not look away.
It held the gaze.
And did not advance.
Arin slithered forward.
Slowly.
Scanning the chamber.
The target was already set.
Thought vanished.
Control snapped.
He did not decide to move.
His body decided for him.
One moment, his body moved with measured intent.
The next—
stone cracked.
Air screamed.
And Arin was gone.
Something tore loose inside him.
The distance collapsed.
He was inches away—
from the wide-jawed serpent.
In a blink—
stone exploded.
Arin twisted mid-lunge.
His body slammed into the cavern wall instead.
Rock fractured.
Dust choked the air.
The serpents froze.
Arin lay embedded in stone—
breathing,
shaking,
alive.
Elsewhere, another gruesome scene was unfolding.
Ren lay against the stone.
Blood dripped steadily onto the cave floor.
His teeth were clenched so hard his jaw trembled.
Pain blurred everything.
He forced his gaze to his left arm.
Blackened.
Burned to the bone.
His right arm shook as he reached into his pocket, fingers slick with blood.
Ahead—
steel rang against stone.
Gio roared, gripping his greatsword with both hands, veins standing out as he swung with everything he had left.
He screamed—not in courage, but to drown out the fear.