The world narrowed to the Zibo's gaping maw, rows of needle-teeth glistening with saliva and William's blood. Hot, fetid breath washed over Zaren, reeking of decay. Is this it? The thought was ice in his veins. Beaten in an orphanage yard, killed in a monster-infested forest? This is how I die? He clenched his teeth so hard his jaw ached, tears of rage and helplessness blurring the monstrous visage before him. No! I can't! Not like this! NOT BEFORE—
The massive claw tightened, crushing the breath from him. He was lifted off his feet. He saw William, pale as death, clutching his bleeding stump, eyes wide with horror. He saw Nira, limp and bleeding, stirring weakly. He saw the Zibo's jaws open impossibly wide.
"NOOOO!" The desperate cries of William and Nira merged into a single, agonized sound as the darkness descended.
Zaren felt pressure, then a sickening crunch that wasn't his own bones. Warmth, thick and metallic, sprayed across his face, momentarily blinding him. William, closer, was drenched. Then… nothing. Utter, suffocating darkness. Silence, except for the frantic hammering of his own heart.
Was I born for this? The thought echoed in the void. Always treated like shit. Beaten. Ignored. Worthless. I learned the sword… worked until my hands bled… but what good is steel against magic? Against… this? A wave of crushing despair washed over him. Why? Why me? Why am I nothing?
Suddenly, he wasn't alone in the darkness. A figure coalesced before him, a mirror image… almost. It was Zaren. But half his face was swallowed by shifting, inky shadow, and the visible eye glowed with malevolent crimson light. A cruel smile twisted the shadowed lips.
"You are nothing," the duplicate hissed, its voice layered with a thousand whispers, deep and resonant like grinding stones. "Just like your father."
Zaren tried to scream, to demand answers, but he had no mouth. No voice. Only terror and confusion.
The shadow-Zaren laughed, a sound devoid of humor, echoing with the shrieks of tormented souls. "So you crave power? Think it will change your pitiful life? Ha! Life is torture. Anxiety. Despair. You humans cling to it, blind fools, always chasing a 'better life' that doesn't exist." The figure leaned closer, its shadowed form radiating cold malice. "I can give you power. Power to crush everything that hurt you. Power to make them fear you. But you… you are too weak. Too human. You could never contain it. This world… it feeds on despair like yours. It thrives on it."
Before Zaren could even process the words, the shadow-Zaren dissolved into the surrounding darkness like smoke. Then, the shadows themselves surged forward, not just around him, but into him. Cold, alien power flooded his veins, icy tendrils wrapping around his soul, filling the void left by terror and helplessness with something vast, ancient, and terrifyingly dark. He felt, becoming one with the shadow. Then… nothing.
---
Back in the Grove
William stared, numb with horror and shock, at the spot where Zaren had been. Blood – Zaren's blood? The Zibo's blood? – dripped down his face. The Mid-Tier Zibo, having swallowed its prey, turned its monstrous head towards him, saliva dripping onto the forest floor. Nira, groggy and in agony, pushed herself up onto her elbows. Seeing the Zibo focus on the helpless William, she gritted her teeth.
"Gravitational… Push!" she gasped, focusing her dwindling power. The air rippled around William, trying to shove him away. But William was paralyzed, trapped in the shock of losing Zaren and his own maiming. He didn't budge.
The Zibo snarled, losing interest in the ineffective magic. It lunged for Nira instead, its massive claw reaching to snatch her broken form.
Suddenly, the Zibo flinched. It roared, not in hunger, but in sudden, unexpected pain. It stumbled back, releasing Nira who collapsed, gasping. Its massive form shuddered violently.
At that moment, Armen's rescue squad burst into the clearing, weapons drawn. They saw the downed recruits, the severed hand, the blood, and the writhing Zibo.
"Get back! Cover the recruits!" one ordered, moving swiftly towards William and Nira.
The other two focused on the Zibo, confused. "Why isn't it attacking?" one muttered, his weapon ready but hesitant.
"Something's wrong…" the other breathed, eyes wide. "Something's happening inside it!"
Before the words fully registered, the Mid-Tier Zibo exploded.
It wasn't just killed. It was annihilated. A torrent of gore, bone shards, and viscous black ichor erupted outwards in a horrific geyser. A warm, crimson rain drenched the clearing, coating William, Nira, the rescuers, the trees, everything. The sheer force of the blast knocked the rescuers back a step and sent Nira sprawling again.
Silence descended, thick and stunned, broken only by the dripping of blood and ichor. Fear, colder and deeper than any Zibo could inspire, gripped them all. What could do this?
Then, through the settling mist of blood, a figure emerged from the epicenter of the blast.
William, wiping gore from his eyes, choked out a disbelieving whisper. "Z-Zaren...?"
Nira stared, her face pale beneath the blood, uttering a breathless, "Oooh... holy shit..."
It was Zaren. But not the Zaren they knew. He stood tall, unscathed, radiating an aura of palpable, chilling power that pressed down on the clearing like a physical weight. In his right hand, he held a sword wreathed in pure, flickering black flame that seemed to drink the light. His eyes glowed with an unnatural, piercing black light, devoid of pupil or white. An aura of cold shadow clung to him, shifting like living smoke.
The rescue squad instantly snapped into fighting stances, weapons trembling slightly despite their training. The air crackled with tension.
"What is this feeli..." one rescuer breathed, his voice tight with awe and terror. "I've never felt power like this..."
"It's not just the power," the other rescuer hissed, his eyes fixed on Zaren's limbs. "Look! His arm! His legs! They were inside that thing! We saw the Zibo eat him! How… how does he have arms and legs? How is he standing there?!"
Zaren tilted his head slightly, the movement unnaturally smooth. The black flames on his sword danced higher. A slow, terrifying smile spread across his face – devoid of warmth, filled with an alien, chilling amusement. It wasn't the smile of their friend. It was the smile of something else entirely.
Nira pushed herself up, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and dawning horror. "Zaren...?" she whispered, then stronger, laced with accusation and terror, "Zaren! What have you done?!"
The figure wreathed in shadow and black flame merely smiled wider, the black light in his eyes burning brighter in the gloom of the Blackroot Forest. The air grew colder. The shadows deepened. The only sound was the hungry crackle of the dark fire.