Escaping

As soon as we walked pass the gate—the dagger went in before our feet could really hit the ground.

Clang

My sword deflected the blade on its path, the shock jarring up through my arm. No thought, just a response. The thing was now a part of me, motion quicker, sharper—alive where it had once been dead. But not mine. Not exactly.

"Quick reflexes," the old man growled, already shoving past me. "You sonnova bitch!" His fist smacked into the attacker's jaw, followed by a belly punch and a kick so low it sent a shiver down my spine.

Something was bothering me. Why's he falling so easily?

The old man didn't stop, pounding the man into the ground—too intent to see the shadow creeping up on him.

"Old man—!"

My symbol blazed before I could blink. One breath, I was running toward it. The next, my knife was in the second attacker's neck. Blazing blood splattered my wrist.

Had the mark taken control again? No… this time felt different. Like it waited for me to move—then made it faster.

"You moved like lightning," the old man told me, regarding the corpse. "Same as that blindingly fast son of a bitch you killed in the Pit." His gaze was on mine, defensive. "Your mark… it's not just alive. It's learning."

We moved through the caverns, the old man leading the way with an unnatural sense of familiarity.

"How long have you been here?" I asked.

"Since the beginning," he said, as if that answered everything.

Hours passed, and we stopped before a destroyed shrine. Moss covered its embers, and a smell that was ancient filled the air.

"Meditate," the old man snapped. "Learn about your emotions. Address your inner self. Then—"

he ruffled my temple,

"through your mind, heal your flesh."

I maintained his stare. "Addressing you as 'Old Man' now seems. uncomfortable."

The old man guffawed with cold humor. "Took you a damn decade."

"Renoda Ougward. Call me ‘Ren.’" A fist slammed into my shoulder. "Forget it, and I’ll kick your ass and your afterlife."

I chuckled. "Wouldn’t dream of it, kind sir."

"Drop the formality, brat. We’re mentor and student." Another thump on my back. "Now sit."

I crossed my legs, willing my mind to quiet. At first, only darkness. Then—

Thump. Thump.

My heart beat in my head. Electricity and heat poured from my center, streaming through my veins in a network of power. Mana? I attempted to direct it into my center, but it exploded like a dam, scorching agony through my gut.

Good. If it won't accumulate, I'll simply have it overflow.

I clenched my teeth as the power surged quicker, my heart a war drum—

And then, silence.

I stood in a mist-wreathed hallway, its vaulted ceiling lost in blackness. At the end, a throne. A being lay upon it, smiling with too many teeth.

"Greetings," it rasped, voice like grinding bone.

Lanterns flared to light. The mist receded, showing the creature's shape—a twisted mockery of a man, all jagged lines and hunger.

"I am your 'Blessing,'" it purred, Claws tapped the throne like a ticking clock.

Not a monster.

Not a god.

It was ‘Me’.

"It's too early for us to speak. Later."

The monster's voice receded as it shoved me back into consciousness. My eyes opened. My body felt lighter, energy running through my blood like wildfire.

".

I looked over at Ren, slumped and sleeping in the shrine. Grinding my teeth, I stood up and took my sword in hand. Practice swings and the blade bit into the air with precision—sharpness and speed with each one. My jumps covered greater lengths; my reflexes had increased tenfold. The meditation had transformed me.

"I'm hungry," the mark hissed, voice curling like smoke in my skull.

"Not now," I snarled back.

Then—a presence. Flickering, but definite.

Where is it?

"Behind you," the mark warned.

I turned around, reflexes kicking in—only to freeze in place. The vile-mouthed girl from before was standing there, arms crossed, scowl as cutting as ever. She'd slipped up on me like a phantom; if the mark hadn't given me a heads-up, I'd never have seen her.

Did she come here to fight?

"Where's the old man?" she snarled, voice dripping with her usual venom.

I had no time to answer when Ren yawned beside me. "Hey, Sharp Tongue."

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

"It’s today, right?" she pressed.

"Yep. And we’ve got company." Ren clapped my shoulder with a grin.

"I’m not blind," she snapped, shutting him down before he could tease her further. Their banter almost made me smile—almost. But the smile never quite made it to my face.

"Kid, meet Iron," Ren said, gesturing to her.

Her mask slipped, showing an impressive face—short hair setting off a face that might have belonged to a goddess. But the fantasy was broken the moment she opened her mouth.

"What're you gaping at, pervert?"

I turned away, burning cheeks. I'd talked to a girl in years—not since my sister.

Not since.

"Call me Hunger," I snarled, the name spilling out before I knew it.

Iron taunted. "Good heavens, what a boring name. I suppose creativity's something you're short on." Her tone was sharp, but her hands painted an even more sinister picture—pitted with dried blood, harsh contrast to her beauty. She swore and did not fear, a tempest in human form.

We spoke no other word and walked, retrieved our equipment and left the shrine.

"Ren, got any ideas?" I asked.

"Iron's in charge. She knows it better than we do," he said.

We walked in silence to the gate—a hulking gate of blackened stone, its rim rent like shattered teeth. Two helmeted knights stood watch at it, their dead eyes casting a feeble sheen behind visors.

Ren cracked his knuckles. "Preparation for bloodshed."

"I'll take one down," I said, already moving forward.

"No one instructed you to do that, idiot!" Iron cursed, splashing towards me.

Ren caught her arm. "Wait. Let's listen to what the kid has to say."

The knight did not move until my sword was brushing against its throat.

Clang!

Steel clashed with steel. The knight's sword slashed wildly, as if by strings, yet it never did miss. My arms shook at each parry, yet something odd occurred—my sword lightened, sharpened, as if to savor the impact. The knight's motions slowed in my eyes, every spasmodic twitch of its muscles magnified.

Then the mark burst out.

Darkness fell across my right eye, and the world was off. I saw the knight's strength—the curve of its next strike, the pressure in its hold.

"BEHIND!"

Too late came the mark's warning. I spun through the air, avoiding the second knight's strike, to receive a boot into my stomach. The shock slid me across the floor. I hardly had time to rise to my feet before the knight loomed over me, sword falling.

Clang!

The ground jarred beneath me as I caught the blow. My eyes darted to Ren and Iron—both unharmed, observing. Ren thumbs-upped lazily, like it was some training exercise.

The mark burned beneath my skin, famished.

"Pathetic," it taunted.

I clenched my teeth and swung, cutting through the knight's hand. A kick sent it crashing to the floor. I could've ended it there—had thrust the blade through its throat—but I held back.

"PITIFUL," the mark mocked.

Then my vision fogged. The cave dissolved, and I was in hellish corridors of my childhood school. The knights were my tormentors—snarling, slowness, faces anticipating the revenge I'd conjured.

"WHY DIDN'T YOU KILL HIM?" the mark thundered.

My fists clenched until blood slid the hilt. The mark throbbed, pushing me forward. I swung, yelling—

Crunch.

Reality snapped into place. One of the knights was dead on the ground at my feet; the other stumbled around, armless. Its helmet bounced around on the ground, and milky eyes fluttered into sudden awareness.

"Spare. me," it rasped.

I drove my sword through its heart—because mercy had no place here

The mark trembled with excitement. "IT'S NICE, ISN'T IT?"

Ren clapped. "Good job."

Iron straightened her mask. "Not bad. for a pervert." But they were smiling tensely, their eyes on the gate.

Ren forced a grin. "Let's grab beer after this."

Iron and I shared vacuous grins. No one moved.

Then the voice of the gate thundered:

"ELIMINATE THE DEFECTIVES, AND FREEDOM IS YOURS."

The gates groaned open, and there stood an army—fifty knights, twenty mages, their lines immaculate.

Ren stretched. "Been too long since I've had a real fight."

Iron melted into her cape. "Don't die, pervert."

I let the mark dominate.

"WHAT A FEAST," it snarled.

No more pain. No more agony. Had the devil anything to give me, I would have accepted it.

"Let's eat," I said to myself.

The brand burned deeper.

Then—hobbling behind us. The rest of the Pit's prisoners appeared, their faces empty, their brands burning.

We were trapped.

—TO BE CONTINUED