The sound of cold water dripping from the dungeon walls echoed through the darkness, making the silence even more terrifying. Luca lay lifeless and unconscious on the cold stone floor. His breathing was shallow, and he had completely lost consciousness. Lane, who had been sobbing and calling out to Luca just moments ago, suddenly fell deathly silent. His cries ceased, and a strange rigidity took over his body.
Every trace of fear vanished from Lane's face. There was no longer any pain or affection visible there. His eyes became as still and numb as stone, as if the soul within had departed. His entire personality shifted instantly—the innocent child now looked like a statue carved from cold, hard rock.
Then, amidst the darkness, a horrifying sight began to unfold. Lane raised his small, delicate hand into the air. Before the eyes of the shadows, long, black, and razor-sharp claws began to emerge from his fingertips. They gleamed like polished daggers, lethal and sharp. Within seconds, his once soft hand turned entirely pitch-black, like burnt coal. It no longer looked like the hand of an innocent child; it appeared to be the limb of some ancient and cruel demon.
Lane slowly lowered that black hand toward Luca's chest. He moved those dagger-like claws closer and closer to Luca's heart. Looking at the void in Lane's expression, it was impossible to tell what he was thinking. The scene was chilling—Lane's hand hovered right above Luca's chest, and those deadly weapons were just an inch away from piercing straight through his body. Death was knocking at the very door of Luca's heart.
Right at that moment, a slight tremor ran through Luca's body. He let out a deep, painful cough. Seeing Luca regain consciousness, the terrifying nature within Lane and that dark power began to retreat. The blackness and those horrifying claws vanished as quickly as they had appeared. Lane became still and calm once again, as if nothing had ever happened.
When Luca finally opened his eyes, Lane was standing before him just as he had been before. But even through the haze of his returning consciousness, Luca felt a heavy sense of dread. He could feel that the cold touch of death had just passed over his chest. The atmosphere had changed—the face before him was still innocent, but the danger lingering in the air was now palpable. The darkness of the dungeon was no longer the same; something had awakened within it that even Luca might not be able to control