Screams.
Even before they could rise—
another fell.
Gorath struck low.
Not the neck.
The coil wrapped around Gio's chest, thick muscle crashing in as it tightened.
Gio resisted—
his fist slammed into the beast's body.
Blood sprayed.
His knuckles split on Gorath's uneven scales.
—crack—
Something inside Gio gave.
The sound wasn't loud.
It was final.
Air tore from his lungs.
He wheezed, eyes wide, mouth opening and closing as his chest refused to rise.
"Hel—"
No sound followed.
The pressure only grew.
Veins stood out along his neck as darkness crept in from the edges of his vision.
That was when they snapped.
"Get behind me!"
Ren's voice broke.
They moved.
Fire formed in his palm—unstable, trembling with rage and panic.
He released it.
The flame tore through the cavern and exploded against Gorath's coils.
Heat roared.
Stone cracked.
But—
The coil tightened.
Gorath shuddered once.
Then his scales shifted, thickening, overlapping—
harder than before.
Gio's body jerked.
His breathing stopped.
Behind him, someone screamed.
Ren's lips trembled, his face twisting—but there was no time to freeze.
He clenched his fists.
Blood spat out.
It dripped from his lips, warm and metallic.
His hands shook.
Control flickered.
But he didn't stop.
In the next moment—
a wall of fire erupted.
Heat roared outward.
Stone blackened.
His palms burned as the technique held, skin blistering as fire obeyed him by force alone.
Relief flickered through him.
A perfect defense.
A perfect attack.
He turned back, forcing a smile.
"It's… going to be over soon," he said.
His voice shook.
Blood kept dripping from his mouth.
Then—
his eyes widened.
Hope shattered.
Another serpent was already coiled around Sol.
Nyss's fangs were buried in her throat.
Blood poured freely.
Right beside her, Negi staggered back, trembling, wiping dark liquid from his neck.
Ren's control fractured.
"Negi—"
The word barely left his mouth.
Negi was already running.
Footsteps echoed as he fled into the dark.
Ren's fire collapsed.
His other hand burned as the technique unraveled.
He stood there—
Watching the last person alive turn his back on him.
Then—
Blood gushed from his mouth, hot and uncontrollable.
His vision swam.
My… meridians…
They burned. Not pain—collapse.
He tried to speak.
Nothing came out.
…
F**k.
Am I a murderer now?
Arin closed his eyes and drew in a slow breath.
"Let's… let's look at this objectively," he muttered, eyes widening.
"Same species?"
No.
"Have I done worse?"
…Yes.
Images flashed—raw, instinctive, bloody.
The moment he was born.
The moment he fed.
"F**k."
His gaze drifted.
Leia's severed head stared back at him, eyes dull, mouth half-open.
"Tch… I'm not killing ever again. I promise."
He nodded to himself. Slowly. As if convincing someone else.
Then—
Growl
His stomach twisted.
His eyes narrowed.
"F**k."
He slithered forward.
Blood pooled on the stone.
His reflection trembled in it.
Did… did my bump grow? he wondered absently.
[What a monster. Standing over blood and worrying about horns.]
"What have I become?" he whispered.
"I don't feel anything when I look at them,"
his eyes widened, "except… hunger."
"I'm not killing a human ever again," he swore.
His jaw trembled.
Then—
without permission—
his mouth dipped.
Blood touched his tongue.
In that instant, he knew.
It was different.
Minuscule—but real.
His cultivation stirred. Advanced.
Cultivator blood.
A goldmine.
"I'm still not going to hunt another cultivator," he muttered quickly, as if the words needed to be said now or they'd lose meaning.
His gaze drifted.
The wall beside him.
The chamber.
"…It's that chamber again," he realized.
The answer was right there.
The most efficient path forward.
The only thing standing in the way was a question he didn't want to finish asking.
Should I?
"If I don't," he reasoned softly, "it'll just go to waste."
His chest loosened.
Decision made.
He stored the bodies away, one by one, not looking too closely.
Then he turned.
Slithered toward the chamber.
The others followed.