The chamber shook, trembling under the monstrous breathing that tore through the air—deep, ragged, fractured like the beast itself. Each inhale was a broken gasp, each exhale a shuddering groan that echoed in the dank, suffocating darkness. The walls seemed to bend inward under the weight of the creature's tortured existence, as if the chamber itself mourned the ancient abomination trapped within.
The Knight stood unmoved, a pillar of resolve beneath the cold steel of his helm. His gaze pierced through the gloom, fixed on Adraval who slumped against a shattered pillar, drenched in blood and madness. The man's grin was wide and wild, stretching across his face like a wound infected with delight and cruelty.
"Do you see it now?" Adraval's voice cut through the thick silence, sharp and manic. "Do you understand, Knight? The fragile threads that bind flesh to soul, that twist man into monster—and monster into perfection?"
He lurched forward, arms sweeping like a mad conductor orchestrating chaos only he could hear. "The pact demands perfection. I will deliver it! The perfect human! And you... you are perfect for my masterpiece!"
The Knight's fingers clenched the hilt of his sword with raw fury, knuckles whitening beneath gauntlets slick with grime.
"That abomination," the Knight said slowly, voice heavy with finality, "is no longer man. You.....you are the true monster."
"No..." Adraval spat, eyes wild. "No! Perfection is born in pain! And pain... pain is power!"
A sick, twisted smile crawled across his lips, a grimace of madness rather than mirth. "You fight me over what? Justice? Redemption? Those human chains only bind us farther from the truth—perfection demands sacrifice!"
The Knight took a deliberate step forward, the weight of every battle he'd fought pressing him into the moment, grounding his spirit.
Silence stretched between them—then Adraval's laughter burst forth, raw and shattered like broken glass. "Silent? Coward? Then fight!"
The beast lunged, grotesque limbs tearing through the stale air as steel met flesh with a wet, sickening thud.
The Knight fought desperately, his blade severing twisted limbs one by one. The creature's mouths—horrifying and many—screamed in agony, voices laced with terror and desperation.
"Father... Father! Help me!"
Adraval's fury snapped like a whip. "Crush him, you failure!"
The beast's assault grew savage, relentless—a tidal wave of raw power and pain. The Knight staggered but held firm, parrying and striking with every ounce of strength left in his battered body.
Then, in the midst of the chaos, a spark of clarity struck the Knight.
With a sudden flicker, his sword vanished—disappearing into thin air—leaving his gauntleted hand empty.
Confused, the beast hesitated, uncertain.
The Knight charged straight at the creature, moving faster than it could react.
And then, from the shadows themselves, his blade reformed—solid, sharp, and deadly—materializing in his grip with a whisper of dark steel.
Without pause, the Knight drove the blade deep into the beast's central mouth—an abyssal maw filled with decay and darkness,but it's outward appearance was of a boy.
The chamber erupted in a terrible cacophony of agonized roars and desperate cries, a horrid symphony of pain that shook the damp walls.
Limbs thrashed violently, grabbing blindly at the Knight's armor, smashing into stone, sending shards flying like shattered glass.
And then—the thrashing slowed.
The monstrous body convulsed one last time before crumpling forward, broken and defeated.
The beast collapsed in a heap of rotted limbs and twitching flesh, a steaming pile of pain and failure. Its central mouth hung open in a silent scream, ichor spilling out in thick globs, dripping onto the stone floor like the last tears of a dying god.
The chamber fell silent.
For a moment, there was nothing—no breath, no scream, no sound at all.
Then—
A slow, broken laugh.
Adraval stumbled forward, the gleam in his eye no longer brilliance but fracture—shattered glass reflecting delusion. He clutched his stomach, wheezing with breathless laughter, stepping over the twitching corpse of his creation as if it were nothing but discarded art.
"You... You killed it?" he whispered. "My child... My perfect failure..."
He staggered again, knees buckling. "You don't get it, do you?! This isn't a defeat! This is transition! Do you hear me?! This is just the catalyst!"
His hands reached up and clawed at his own face, blood from earlier wounds smeared across his mouth like warpaint. The Knight walked towards him.
"I'll make another. I'll make hundreds. Thousands. The pact—The pact still—"
Crack.
The Knight's armored boot slammed into Adraval's right knee.
The alchemist screamed, collapsing like a puppet with its strings torn out. Before he could process the pain, crack—the second leg followed.
His cries turned animalistic.
The Knight remained silent. No words.
"You... You can't!" Adraval spat, voice breaking between sobs and snarls. "You think you've won? I still have—!"
A wheezing noise interrupted him. The sound of the beast.
The beast. It still moved, barely. One grotesque eye, ruptured and half-melted, rolled toward Adraval. The beast then asked confusingly, innocently:
"...Father...?"
Adraval's head whipped toward the creature, his voice softening instantly, tears mixing with blood on his face. "Yes... I'm here. I'm still here, my child. I—I didn't abandon you. You understand me, don't you? You were perfection! But....you...you!!"
The monster didn't move. Only a faint twitch in its ruined jaw. But the word came again—quiet, choked, and somehow... almost gentle.
"...Father..."
Something in Adraval cracked then—not bone, but spirit. His entire body collapsed into a heap beside the beast, one arm draped across the cooling mass of flesh and eyes and mouths.
"I did this for you... I did it all for you..."
The Knight turned, walking forward slowly.
No fury. No mercy.
Just....well,even he didn't know.
A shadow passed over the two—man and monster, clinging to each other like father and child.
The chamber dimmed.
There were no screams anymore.
Only silence lived on.
Moments later, when the torchlight flickered once more and the darkness lifted, the Knight stood alone.
The fallen beast, and the madman who birthed it—gone.
The chamber did not mourn.How would it? It wasn't alive.
The Knight dematerialized his sword and walked on, the echo of his footsteps the only sound that remained.