The air shifted.Every grain of black sand seemed to tremble under an unseen rhythm.
Karn stood still, the dead creature at his feet leaking black ichor into the warm sand. Its steam curled into the air like warning smoke.
Beyond the jagged coral ribs, dozens of heartbeats pulsed — no longer patient. No longer circling.They were coming.
The intruder's amber eyes glinted in the violet light.
"The thing about the Black Shore, boy… it never sends just one."
The sound hit first — a rolling, low-frequency rumble that wasn't quite a growl and wasn't quite thunder. It made the bones in Karn's jaw vibrate.
Then they emerged.
From fissures in the sand, from gaps between coral ribs, from pools of black water that hadn't been there a heartbeat ago — they crawled, slithered, and stalked into the open.
Some were lean and wolf-like, plated in wet black armor, their mouths lined with serrated fangs. Others towered like mantises made of bone and shadow, spines twitching like antennae. A few… didn't have shapes Karn could describe — just shifting silhouettes wrapped in dripping black cords.
Each one had a heartbeat.Each one was different.
The intruder spread his arms, almost welcoming them.
"Feel it. Let it drown you. If you want to live here… you stop being prey."
Karn ignored him. He shut his eyes.
The world peeled away, sound by sound.The rasp of wet claws in sand.The crack of coral under weight.The faint hiss of ichor evaporating on the warm shore.
He counted the beats.Twelve creatures closing from the front.Five flanking on the right.Three hanging back, waiting to strike when his focus broke.
No… sixteen. One of the front heartbeats was two, overlapping perfectly — a parasite clinging to a host.
He inhaled deeply, grounding himself. The air burned. His veins felt heavy with heat.
The first lunged.
Karn moved before it left the ground. His shard slammed into its throat in an upward arc, severing tendons before its claws reached him. It crumpled mid-leap, skidding across the sand.
The second struck immediately, aiming low. Karn pivoted, the attack glancing off the coral shard, then spun the weapon in his palm to drive it through the attacker's jaw.
He didn't have time to finish the kill — three more were on him.
Sand exploded as Karn leapt back, landing atop a rib of coral. It thrummed beneath his feet, alive. Without hesitation, he tore a length of it free. It fit in his hands like a spear.
He hurled it with perfect precision — not at the closest beast, but at the one hanging back, its heartbeat too calm. The coral spear pierced it through the chest, pinning it to the ground.
The intruder laughed softly, voice carrying over the chaos.
"You're starting to listen. Good."
Two mantis-like predators scissored their bladed forearms toward him. Karn stepped between their swings, catching one blade in each hand, the force driving lines of pain into his arms. He twisted, forcing the two creatures into each other, then ducked low as they impaled one another.
But more kept coming.
A wolf-thing hit him from the side, knocking him into the sand. Its weight crushed his ribs, its breath hot and foul in his face. Karn jammed the coral shard up under its jaw, shoving until its skull cracked, then rolled away just as another creature's claw tore a furrow through where he'd been.
His breathing was sharp now, but his eyes burned brighter — molten gold flickering at the edges of his vision. The beats were clearer, sharper, like the Black Shore itself was amplifying his gift.
The intruder's voice cut through the carnage.
"This is why you're here, boy. Not to kill them… but to survive them. If you survive long enough—"
Karn didn't let him finish. He drove the coral shard into the sand beside him, anchoring himself as three predators lunged at once. His free hand grabbed a handful of the warm black grains and flung them upward — the sand igniting in a burst of violet sparks.
The beasts flinched, just enough for Karn to move.
He tore his weapon free and moved like lightning, every strike fueled by a rhythm only he could hear. Black ichor sprayed in arcs, spattering across his face and arms. His breathing was calm. His eyes, feral.
The intruder's grin was sharp, satisfied.
"Yes… that's him."
The last heartbeat in the distance faltered. Karn turned toward it — the biggest, slowest, and most deliberate of them all. It stepped forward, larger than the rest, its form cloaked in shifting shadow.
The smaller predators backed away. Even the intruder's smirk thinned.
"Careful, boy," he murmured. "That one… doesn't bleed."