Despite myself, fear coiled deep in my chest, suffocating and cold.

  “What are you?” I whispered, barely audible, my grip tightening around the useless remains of my dagger.

  The thing that had worn Bert’s face smiled, sharp teeth glinting in the dim light. Its pupils, vertical slits, like a predator’s, studied me with amused detachment.

  I took a step back.

  The thing took one forward.

  “Hasn’t this been fun?” it said, voice smooth, almost playful. “Watching you and your little group struggle, clawing for survival? Truly, you entertained me.” It spread its arms wide, as if presenting the cavern itself. “If you haven’t figured it out yet… I’m disappointed, Ethan. I thought you had more potential.”

  Its tone darkened, the amusement slipping away like a mask peeled back.

  “This is my domain,” it said, voice turning rougher, edged with something primal. “My rift. My prison.”

  The cavern trembled.

  Cracks raced across the walls, jagged and spreading. Loose stone broke free, shattering against the floor.

  I flinched, steadying my stance, but the thing—Bert, or what had once been Bert—stood still, unfazed, watching me.

  Then, as quickly as it had come, the fury faded.

  Its smile widened,

  “But you…” It chuckled, taking another slow step forward. “You were different. Someone as weak as you dared to enter my domain? I had to see it for myself. And what did I find?” It tilted its head. “A mere bug, managing to kill one of my thralls. Fascinating.”

  I swallowed hard, forcing myself to stand my ground.

  “You killed them…”

  The thing laughed, a sharp, grating sound that scraped against my skull.

  “Of course I did.” It gestured loosely, claws flicking through the air. “I killed all of them. That healer, those two shield-bearers. And, of course, John.”

  The casual way it said his name sent a fresh wave of fury through me.

  John had been the strongest of us. The one who should have made it.

  The thing’s grin sharpened, as if it sensed my thoughts.

  “He was the only troublesome one,” it admitted. “But even he could be broken. I simply needed to wear him down… chip away at his resolve…”

  Its clawed fingers traced absently through the air.

  “And at his lowest,” it mused, almost thoughtful, “all it took was one good swipe. He really was quite stupid.”

  I watched, frozen, as it lifted its bloodstained hand, lazily flicking crimson droplets onto the stone.

  That was John’s blood.

  The realization hit harder than the demon’s strike ever could.

  “Your world will be very interesting,” it continued, stepping forward, deliberate, unhurried.

  I forced myself to lift my dagger, a useless gesture, but the only one I had.

  The creature chuckled. “Still resisting? Even now?” It shook its head, feigning disappointment. “I don’t need to take you like the others. You’re different. Special.”

  Its voice dropped lower, smooth, persuasive. “Why not stand by my side instead? I can give you what you want, Ethan. Strength. Power. No more running, no more losing.”

  I said nothing, jaw locked tight.

  The thing’s grin stretched wider.

  “Think about it,” it pressed, voice almost gentle now. “That challenge I gave you? It made you stronger. I felt it. You felt it. That’s what I offer, Ethan. Strength beyond anything you could have imagined.”

  I clenched my fists, ignoring the shaking.

  It took another step forward.

  “Join me,” it whispered. “You don’t have to become a mindless thrall like the others. You can be more.”

  A sharp breath rattled through my lungs.

  I met its gaze, dark eyes locking onto its slitted ones.

  For the first time since this nightmare began, my fear faded.

  I exhaled slowly.

  “You…” My voice was hoarse, barely more than a breath. “You’re a monster.”

  Something flickered across its face.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  “I’d never join you,” I continued, forcing steel into my voice. “And even if I can’t stop you… someone else will.”

  The amusement finally drained from its expression.

  “There are people out there,” I said, gripping my broken dagger, stepping back deeper into the cavern, “who might as well be gods.”

  I squared my stance, ignoring the tremors wracking my body.

  “To them… you’re nothing.”

  Silence.

  The demon’s grin vanished.

  Its slitted pupils dilated.

  Then it lunged.

  Before I can react, something slams into my shoulder with the force of a battering ram.

  Bones cracked.

  My entire body launched backward, weightless for an instant before I crash onto the stone floor, pain burst through my nerves like wildfire. My vision blurred and my ears rang. I barely register the sound of approaching footsteps.

  Then, an iron grip closes around my torso, hoisting me up like a ragdoll.

  The world twists violently.

  I don’t even register the impact before I’m already airborne again, my body whipped down into the cold, unyielding stone. My skull bounces, the impact rattling through every nerve in my body. A sharp, wet crack echoes in my ears.

  My mind swims.

  Something strong clamps around my throat and lifts me, my feet barely scraping against the ground before I’m slammed down once more, stone splintering beneath the sheer force.

  Darkness claws at the edges of my vision.

  My skill ignites, a dying fire desperately trying to flare back to life. The pain dulls slightly. Strength floods my body in short bursts.

  A heavy boot slams into my ribs.

  The sound comes first, the sickening crunch of bone giving way. A moment later, the pain catches up, white-hot agony tearing through my torso as I’m sent rolling across the ground, struggling for breath.

  My lungs refuse to expand.

  Something’s wrong.

  I cough, choking, feeling warm liquid trickle down my chin. Blood. My own. Probably from burst organs.

  My skill flares stronger, as I get closer and closer to death. My ribs shift, the edges scraping against one another as Last Stand tries to mend the damage, I push the pain aside. It’s nothing compared to that challenge room.

  I refuse to stay down.

  With what strength last stand provides, I claw at the ground, dragging myself forward inch by inch. My arms tremble violently as I push, fighting the weight of my own body. My vision swims, red spots blooming at the edges of my sight.

  Still, I move.

  Knees scraping against stone, hands pressing down hard enough to bruise, I force myself upright. It’s a slow, painful motion—muscles screaming, ribs grinding against themselves but I make it.

  Barely.

  I kneel, shaking, struggling to hold myself up.

  A shadow falls over me.

  The monster watches, expression unreadable. Amusement? Annoyance? It’s impossible to tell.

  “You’re still getting up?” it muses, voice carrying an almost curious edge. “You really would make a good demon.”

  I don’t answer. I can’t. My breaths come in ragged gasps, each one agony. My fingers twitch against the cold stone, searching.

  It takes another step forward.

  I tighten my grip on my broken dagger.

  The demon approaches, its steps slow, deliberate.

  I swing wildly from my knees, the broken remains of my dagger flashing through the dim light. It doesn’t even bother dodging. A lazy swipe knocks my arm aside, sending the weapon clattering against the stone. Then it backhands me, the force whipping my head to the side. My skull rings from the impact. More blood fills my mouth, thick and coppery, but that barely registers anymore.

  I spit it out at its body in defiance.

  A single tear slips down my cheek, unbidden. Not from fear. Not from pain.

  Elise.

  She’s waiting for me. I promised her I’d come back.

  The demon’s foot slams into my chest, driving me onto my back. A sharp, wet snap echoes in my ears as another rib gives way. My body is broken. Ribs shattered, organs ruptured, muscles torn.

  I’m already dead. But that’s where my skill thrives.

  Last Stand flares to life, burning through my veins, pumping stolen strength into ruined limbs. The pain doesn’t fade, but it dulls, buried beneath a raw, desperate energy. My vision sharpens. My breath steadies, ragged but controlled. My muscles, screaming in protest, lock back into place.

  For a moment, I just lay there, staring up at the cavern ceiling.

  I let myself imagine my bed—small, old, uncomfortable. Elise complaining about school, sprawled across the couch, flipping through channels. The smell of cheap instant ramen filling the air.

  Home.

  I grit my teeth and plant my hands against the stone.

  The demon watches, amusement flickering in its too-sharp eyes.

  I push myself up.

  Agony lances through me, my body fighting against the movement, but I ignore it. My arms shake. My legs barely hold. My breath comes in short, pained gasps.

  But I stand.

  The demon tilts its head, studying me like a curious predator.

  And then it grins.

  A wet thud echoes through the cavern.

  I look down.

  Blood spills from my lips, thick and hot, pooling on the stone floor beneath me. The demon’s arm is buried deep in my gut, its claws piercing clean through. My body locks up, nerves firing wildly in confusion and agony. I try to breathe, but all I get is a wet, rattling gasp.

  Slowly, I lift my gaze.

  The demon is still smiling.

  It rips its hand free.

  The pain is blinding, white-hot. I collapse onto my knees, my own blood soaking into the stone, warmth draining from my body. My vision swims, edges blurring. Last Stand surges, burning through me, fighting to keep me upright, to keep me alive. But even it is faltering.

  I’m dying.

  The demon’s voice slithers into my ears.

  “If only you had knelt from the start.” Its tone is almost amused, but there’s something else beneath it. Something cold. “I could have made you strong. Now you die like a bug, broken and bleeding at my feet.”

  My mind unravels.

  Memories flicker like a dying flame.

  Mom and Dad, watching over me, smiles warm and soft. Holding my hand, taking me to the park. The day El was born, her tiny fingers wrapping around mine for the first time. Her wide eyes staring up at me, filled with so much trust.

  Dad leaving for a rift and never coming back.

  Mom getting sick.

  Her frail hand gripping mine, whispering through labored breaths, It’s your turn now. Take care of your sister.

  A sob threatens to break free, but I choke it down with blood.

  The demon leans in, voice dripping with satisfaction.

  “Don’t worry,” it continues. “Your soul will remain in your body when you become my thrall. You’ll see the outside world again. You’ll watch as I twist it into my image.”

  I whisper, barely audible.

  “S—sorry, El.”

  The demon tilts its head. “What was that?”

  I look up as water drips from one of the sharp stones on the ceiling, splashing against my forehead. I barely notice. My body is failing, my heartbeat slowing. But my mind sharpens. How ironic, the first thing I thought when I entered this rift was that those stone teeth were going to close around me. Now that would come true.

  I meet the demon’s gaze, dark eyes locking onto its slit-pupiled ones.

  Resolve hardens in my chest.

  A slow, bloodied smile curls onto my lips.

  “I said… fuck you.”

  I open my trembling hand.

  Two mana bombs sit in my palm, taken from Alex’s body.

  The demon’s expression shifts, twisting from amusement into rage.

  I throw the bombs.

  They soar upward, slamming into the cavern ceiling.

  A deafening explosion rips through the air.

  Stone cracks. The cavern shudders.

  The demon roars, its voice no longer composed. It lunges for me, claws outstretched, but it’s too late.

  The ceiling collapses.

  Jagged stone spears rain down, impaling flesh, crushing everything beneath them.

  I watch as the demon’s shriek is cut short, its form swallowed by the falling debris.

  Tears streak down my bloodied face.

  Then the world turns black.