The thing's eyes locked on him—two burning coals set in a face stretched too thin. Its skin was mottled grey, veins crawling under the surface like dark rivers. The jagged teeth weren't human. Neither was the way it moved.
Adam barely threw himself aside before claws slashed through where his head had been. The wall behind him cracked open under the impact, scattering splinters across the floor.
Instinct took over. He grabbed the nearest object—a rusted metal pipe—and swung. It connected with a wet, solid sound, but the creature barely flinched.
It turned slowly, head tilting, lips pulling into a grotesque grin.
"Nope," Adam muttered, already backing away.
It lunged again, faster this time. Adam dropped low, rolling under its swipe, the claws missing by inches. He came up near the shattered window, rain stinging his face. Below, the street was crawling with armored hunters. The black-armored woman from before tilted her head up, as if she could sense him.
Trapped.
The creature hissed, dragging its claws over the wall. Sparks danced briefly in the gloom.
Think. He needed space, an opening—anything.
A broken beam jutted from the wall to his left. Adam grabbed it, yanking hard. Wood cracked, the beam snapping free with a sharp splintered end. Not much, but enough.
It came at him again. Adam thrust the beam forward, catching the thing in the ribs. This time, it screamed—a piercing, rattling sound that made the walls vibrate.
For a heartbeat, it staggered.
Adam ran.
He barreled through the splintered hole the thing had made when it entered, crashing into a narrow corridor that reeked of damp and dust. Behind him, the scream cut off. Silence.
Too silent.
He pushed forward, boots pounding the warped boards, turning corner after corner. The hallways didn't match the layout he'd seen before—doors where there hadn't been doors, stairs that climbed into shadow without end.
Something whispered. Not words—more like the sound of breath too close to his ear.
Adam spun. Nothing.
He kept moving.
Up ahead, light spilled through a half-open door. He shoved it open—
And froze.
It was the same room he'd just left. Same broken ceiling. Same rain dripping in uneven beats. Only now, Lena was gone. The armored woman was gone. The fight was gone.
The only thing that remained… was the creature.
It was waiting.
Adam's grip tightened on the makeshift spear. "I don't know how the hell you're doing this," he said, voice low, "but I'm not dying here."
The thing lunged again, but this time Adam met it head-on. He dodged to the side at the last second, driving the spear up under its jaw. It shrieked, convulsing, its claws tearing deep grooves into the floorboards before it collapsed in a twitching heap.
Adam didn't wait to see if it stayed down.
He ran for the nearest door, shoving it open—
—and stepped out into open air.
No street. No building opposite. Just a black drop, stretching endlessly down into a fog so thick it looked solid.
A voice drifted from somewhere behind him.
"You shouldn't be here yet."
He turned sharply. A figure stood in the shadows at the far end of the platform. Not Lena—taller, broader shoulders, wrapped in layers of tattered fabric that shifted in an unseen wind. A mask covered their face, smooth and featureless except for two vertical slits where eyes should be.
"Who are you?" Adam demanded.
The figure tilted their head. "Someone who knows what hunts you. And what wants you."
The boards under Adam's feet groaned. He glanced down—cracks were spreading fast.
"Run," the masked figure said simply.
The platform gave way.
Adam fell—past the crumbling edge, into the choking fog. The last thing he saw before the mist swallowed him was the masked figure turning away… as if they knew exactly where he was going to land.