The days blurred together.
He didn't know when one ended and another began. The pain came in cycles, returning again and again, never giving him enough relief to rest properly.
Each time the centipede crawled onto him, his body reacted before his mind could. His pulse spiked, his breath shortened, and his muscles tensed uselessly against the restraints.
It fed often.
Not enough to kill him, but enough that he felt weaker each time. His head grew light more easily. Standing felt like a distant memory. Even lying still took effort.
Sometimes his vision dimmed at the edges, and he wondered if he was finally losing too much blood.
He stopped counting the bites. He stopped counting time. He only knew that he was still alive because the pain never stopped long enough to forget himself.
Then, one day, the door opened again.
The spider-masked woman walked in, her steps light. "Congratulations," she said cheerfully. "You're still alive."
She paused, tilting her head. "Many others didn't make it."
For a brief moment, her voice softened. "That's unfortunate."
Then her tone lifted again. "But you're lucky."
She moved closer and began undoing the straps. His arms dropped heavily onto the table. His legs didn't respond at all. He still couldn't move.
She gestured toward the centipede, which had retreated to the corner.
"This little guy is called the Thousand Venom Centipede," she said. "You might be wondering where the venom is. Or if the paralysis came from poison."
She chuckled. "It didn't."
"This one is special," she continued. "Because it's white. It hunts in the morning." She leaned closer, amused. "But it can hunt at night too. Amazing, right?"
She straightened. "I removed all of its poison. Its main fangs were taken out so it wouldn't eat you. It was trained to only drink blood. And trained not to kill."
She clasped her hands together. "Hehe. You're a very lucky lad."
She stepped back toward the door. "Now that you're free, you can have your revenge on it."
The door closed behind her.
He lay there, weak and shaking, staring at the centipede on the floor. His hands barely twitched.
His body refused to obey him.
Inside, anger burned quietly.
He lay there for several minutes, barely breathing, forcing himself not to panic. The paralysis faded slowly, not all at once.
First his fingers twitched. Then his wrists began to respond, weak and unsteady. His legs still felt distant, like they belonged to someone else.
The centipede was resting on the floor near the table, its long white body coiled loosely, unmoving except for the faint ripple of its segments. It looked calm. Almost satisfied.
Zhiyu swallowed hard.
'Can I even take this thing?' he thought. 'It's still a soul beast. And I'm half dead.'
He didn't have a choice.
He slid one arm off the table with effort. The movement sent a wave of dizziness through him, and he had to pause, breathing through it.
His hand brushed against cold metal. Tools. The same ones he had seen.
His fingers closed around something thin and sharp. A narrow metal spike, maybe meant for cutting or prying. It wasn't ideal, but it was solid.
He lowered himself slowly, careful not to make noise. His knees buckled when his feet touched the ground, and he caught himself against the table, teeth clenched. The room spun briefly, then settled.
The centipede didn't move.
He took one step. Then another. Each one felt like dragging his body through water. His grip tightened around the spike, knuckles whitening.
'One chance,' he thought. 'If I miss, I'm done.'
He raised the tool with shaking hands and lunged forward, driving it down as hard as he could into the centipede's body.
Crack!
The creature reacted instantly. Its body thrashed, slamming against the floor, segments twisting violently.
Zhiyu cried out as the motion knocked him backward, but he didn't let go. He stabbed again, aiming where the body was thickest, using his weight to push the spike in deeper.
Krriii—
The centipede writhed, legs scraping against stone, but it didn't bite. It couldn't.
His arms burned. His vision blurred. Still, he pressed on, stabbing and holding until the movements weakened, then slowed.
Finally, the thrashing stopped.
'Finally... you fucker...'
Zhiyu collapsed onto the floor beside it, chest heaving, every muscle screaming. The spike slipped from his hand and clattered softly against the stone.
He stared at the ceiling, shaking, barely believing he was still alive.
The silence that followed was heavier than the fight itself.
His body trembled uncontrollably once the adrenaline faded. He lay there for a while, staring at the ceiling, breathing hard.
Then something else surfaced... slow, dull, and impossible to ignore.
Hunger.
Not the distant ache he had grown used to. This was sharp and insistent, clawing at his thoughts.
The fasting pill had only dulled the sensation, tricked his body into thinking it was fine. Now that the struggle was over, the lie collapsed.
His stomach cramped painfully.
He turned his head and looked at the centipede's body lying beside him.
His throat tightened.
'No,' he thought immediately. 'No way.'
He swallowed. His mouth felt dry, his lips cracked. Another wave of hunger rolled through him, stronger than before, making his hands shake.
'I'm not… I can't be that desperate.'
His eyes stayed on it anyway.
Minutes passed. The hunger didn't fade. It grew louder, drowning out disgust, drowning out reason.
His mind started making excuses on its own.
'It's an animal,' he thought. 'Not human. And it drank my blood first.'
He laughed weakly, the sound rough. 'Fair enough, right?'
He dragged himself closer, movements slow and stiff. The smell wasn't rotten. There was barely any smell at all. That made it easier.
He hesitated one last time.
Then he acted.
He used the same metal tool to cut into it, hands unsteady but deliberate. The texture was tough, resistant, nothing like normal meat.
He worked through it slowly, breathing through the nausea that kept rising.
When he finally brought a piece to his mouth, his hands paused. His whole body screamed at him to stop.
'If I don't eat, I'll die,' he thought. 'That's it...'
He bit down.
Crunch! Crunch!
The taste was bland, almost chalky, with a strange bitterness underneath. It wasn't good. It wasn't unbearable either.
He gagged once, then forced himself to keep chewing. His jaw ached, but his stomach responded immediately, desperate and eager.
Once he started, stopping became harder.
He ate slowly at first, then faster as the hunger overwhelmed everything else. His thoughts fractured, looping between disgust and relief.
'I'm really doing this?'
'I hate this.'
'I need this.'
By the time he finished, his body felt heavy and wrong, but the sharp edge of hunger was gone.
He sat there on the cold floor, arms wrapped around himself, breathing shallowly.
His mind felt unsteady, stretched thin.
'I'm losing it,' he thought dimly.
Darkness took him before he realized it. His body gave out without warning, strength draining all at once, and he collapsed onto the floor.
When awareness returned, it came slowly. Not pain first this time, but sound. The faint scrape of something being dragged.
A voice humming lightly.
"Oh," the spider-masked woman said, amused. "He really was desperate."
He couldn't open his eyes yet, but he heard her clearly.
"Mmm," she continued, almost thoughtfully, "he might actually be useful."
There was a pause. Then footsteps moving away. The room felt different when he finally stirred again. Cleaner.
The air no longer smelled of blood or metal.
He opened his eyes.
She was standing nearby, facing him. The spider mask tilted slightly as if she had been waiting.
She clapped her hands. "Congratulations! You passed!"
He stared at her, still too tired to react. His head hurt. His body felt heavy but… intact.
"You successfully integrated the soul of that beast into yours," she said brightly. "Yay."
He didn't say anything. He just kept looking at her.
"Come on," she said, waving a hand. "Celebrate. You're alive."
When he still didn't respond, she sighed. "You're no fun."
He swallowed and finally spoke. "How… did I integrate it?"
She blinked, then smiled beneath the mask. "By eating it."
He froze. "What?"
"Like I said," she replied casually. "Eating."
She walked a few steps, speaking as if giving a lecture. "The soul of a being is deeply connected to its body. And more importantly, to its killer. When a creature dies, its soul lingers briefly. If the killer consumes the body, the soul follows."
She tapped the side of her mask. "For mortals, the soul is just a vessel. Empty and fragile. So it can absorb other souls."
He listened silently, his mind slowly catching up.
"You killed it," she continued. "You ate it. So its soul transferred to you and was consumed. Naturally."
"Naturally," she repeated, as if the word fit.
"As for what happens next," she added, "you might gain traits. Resistance. Instincts. Compatibility."
She looked at him again. "That's the law of this world. One of them, at least."
He lay there, unmoving, the words settling into him slowly.
'A law of the world.'