The worst feeling wasn't fear. It wasn't pain. It was the absence of belonging. What he once called home now felt like a distant, unreachable memory, slipping further away with every passing second. Logic had lost its grip on this world—only survival remained. And the mind, desperate for reason, would twist anything to justify its existence.
Noah had been walking for hours, searching for shelter, yet the world around him continued to shift and change. The towering boulders and jagged mountains had vanished, swallowed by an expanse of endless black lakes. It was surreal, dreamlike, and yet painfully real.
He was running out of time.
If the twin suns rose before he found cover, their scorching heat would be the end of him. A slow, agonizing death he couldn't afford to let happen.
Despite the exhaustion gnawing at his bones, his mind refused to stop working, analyzing every detail, searching for patterns. It was a habit, one that had served him well before—but here, he wasn't sure if logic would save him.
The two suns set almost simultaneously. That meant longer nights than days. This world's rotation was slower than Earth's. It was a small advantage, one he had to cling to.
The nights, though dim, carried a pale glow from the massive moon overhead. With each step, the cold sand beneath his boots made a sound like cracking glass. In some places, thin layers of ice formed just beneath the surface. A flicker of hope stirred in his chest. Water.
Kneeling, he dug his fingers into the sand, prying loose the frozen chunks and stuffing them into his coat pockets, ignoring the sharp sting of the cold against his skin. It wasn't much, but it was something. He could melt it later, or eat it as it was. Water was just one of many problems he needed to solve.
By his rough estimate, the nights lasted nearly ten hours longer than the days. That meant more time to move. He scoffed under his breath.
"Well, well, I guess I'll be seeing my dear friend less often," he muttered, glancing down at his shadow, a wry smirk tugging at his lips.
He wasn't sure when he had started talking to it—or if it was even real. Maybe it was the isolation. Maybe it was something else. But sometimes, just for a split second, he could swear it moved on its own.
Still, there was more to learn. He needed to track the moon's cycle, observe his body's changes. He had survived this far by sheer luck, but from now on, he needed control.
His fingers brushed against the strange device embedded in his chest. Through all the chaos, he hadn't had time to truly question it. Yet, somehow, he felt its presence—warm, humming softly, like a parasite latched onto his very being.
Every action had a reaction. That was the law of the universe. Everything had a reason.
But not all reasons were meant to be understood.
Was this fate? Or something else? Did everything he had endured have a purpose?
He exhaled sharply, shaking the thoughts from his head. Now wasn't the time for questions. It was time for action.
Noah pressed on, navigating carefully around the black lakes. But every so often, something shifted beneath the sand.
A ripple. A tremor. Just subtle enough to make him doubt himself.
His throat tightened. "I'm going crazy," he muttered. "Just imagining things. But…" His voice trailed off as unease crept up his spine. Something wasn't right.
His fingers curled tighter around his coat. His instincts screamed at him. A gut feeling. A sixth sense.
But he pushed it aside, forcing himself forward. Step after step. Losing count of the endless strides. Time warped in isolation. What felt like an eternity could be only a few hours.
Yet the worst part wasn't the endless walking. It was the silence. The way solitude twisted the mind, how buried thoughts clawed to the surface, warping the line between reality and dreams. All the distractions of daily life were gone, leaving only the raw, unfiltered thoughts he had ignored for so long.
Noah had reached his limit. His mind was drained, no longer capable of rational thought, no longer crafting solutions. Exhaustion gripped him. Yet his body pushed forward, driven by pure survival instinct. Every fiber of him ached for rest. But how could he stop?
Until…
Until his body collapsed.
His legs gave out, his limbs too heavy to lift. He crumpled onto the cold sand. Unconscious, yet still breathing. His body had finally forced him to shut down, plunging him into the darkness of sleep.
The world, however, did not rest with him.
Beneath the surface, something stirred. The sand shifted, rippling, like something alive slithered beneath it. A predator. Something built to survive this harsh world.
This time, it wasn't his imagination.
The disturbance crept closer, the sand tightening, crushing against itself. The ground beneath him loosened, swallowing him inch by inch.
And then, it touched him.
The moment it did, the sand shifted violently. An unseen force pulled him downward, the earth itself claiming him, dragging him into its depths.
Then—
"WA…KE U…P."
The voice rang inside his mind, not just a sound, but a vibration in his very bones. It wasn't external—it was inside him.
"WAKE… UP… WAKE UP!"
His eyes snapped open, his breath coming in sharp gasps.
The sand clung to his skin, sliding into his sleeves and boots like writhing fingers. It was cold—too cold. The pressure around his chest tightened, crushing the air from his lungs. Every movement only dragged him deeper. The shifting grains whispered like hungry voices, consuming him inch by inch.
Panic surged through his veins. He fought, struggling against the pull, but the more he moved, the deeper he sank.
His heart pounded as the horrifying truth set in—
The more you move, the faster it takes you.
Noah stopped struggling, holding his breath in the suffocating grip of the shifting sand. If this thing was a predator, then maybe—just maybe—it would lose interest if he remained still. Earth's hunters loved the thrill of a chase, the struggle of prey. But once that fight was gone, some would simply abandon their kill.
But this thing was different. It didn't stop.
The sand swallowed him whole.
He plunged downward, the sinkhole stretching at least five meters deep—maybe more. The impact was brutal, pain jolting through his limbs as he crashed into the ground. Dazed, his vision blurred, he forced his eyes open, expecting to face whatever had dragged him under.
Instead, what he saw turned his blood to ice.
His breath hitched as he locked eyes with the creature beside him.
It was massive—at least ten meters long—its thick, lizard-like body supported by four powerful legs. Two additional arms extended from its torso, each ending in three elongated talons, sharp enough to tear through flesh like wet paper. Its long, sinewy neck led to an elongated head, its maw lined with jagged fangs. And its eyes—four black, soulless orbs—were fixed solely on him.
The creature let out a screech, the sound unnatural, vibrating through Noah's skull and sending waves of terror through his body.
"Oh god. Oh god."
His mind reeled, fear gripping him in ways he had never known. "How the hell am I supposed to fight this?"
The thought barely had time to settle before the creature lunged.
It moved like an arrow—fast, impossibly fast. Its size should have made it sluggish, but instead, it was terrifyingly agile.
Noah barely managed to twist his torso, narrowly dodging the incoming talons. The effort sent white-hot pain searing through his body, his injuries screaming in protest. He hit the ground hard, rolling, his fingers instinctively finding the grip of his silver gun.
Without hesitation, he fired.
Bullets cut through the air, but the creature was too fast, its movements unpredictable. Every shot missed by a wide margin.
Noah's heart pounded as the beast sprinted toward him again. But this time, instead of striking head-on, it twisted mid-charge, its long black tail slicing through the air like a whip.
The impact struck his side with the force of a battering ram.
The world blurred as Noah was sent flying. His body crashed onto the uneven ground, pain ripping through him as he skidded across the dirt. His vision darkened at the edges, the sheer force of the blow knocking the air from his lungs.
Gritting his teeth, he forced himself up just enough to see his surroundings.
The sinkhole wasn't just a pit. It was connected to something deeper—an entire network of underground tunnels.
"I think…" He clutched his side, struggling to breathe. "I think this is it. How the hell am I supposed to fight this thing?"
His gaze remained locked on the monstrous predator. It had stopped moving. Watching. Waiting. Playing. The realization sent a cold shiver down his spine—this thing enjoyed the hunt. It wanted to savor the moment before the kill.
Noah's fingers tightened around the gun. Every muscle in his body screamed in protest, but he gritted his teeth and forced himself to his feet. His breaths came in sharp gasps, his vision swayed, but he stood.
"Do your worst, fate." His voice wavered, but his eyes burned with defiance. He straightened his stance, forcing a smirk. "My end? Not in a million years. You hear me?! I won't go down without a fight! COME AT ME! LET'S BOTH GO TO HELL!"
The creature reacted. It let out an ear-splitting screech that rattled Noah's bones, vibrating through the air like a war cry. In a blink, it charged. Too fast.
Noah braced for impact, throwing up his arms. He had no time to dodge—
Then—
A searing heat surged from his chest, flooding his veins like liquid fire. His vision sharpened unnaturally, colors bending, details crisp and overwhelming. The machine embedded in his body pulsed violently, its hum turning into a deep, resonant roar.
The air around him exploded.
A powerful shockwave tore through the tunnel, hurling the creature backward with terrifying force. The impact sent Noah skidding across the dirt, pain jolting through his battered body.
A sickening crack filled the air.
The predator screamed—a sound of agony this time. Noah's breath hitched as he saw it—its right arm, torn clean off. The severed limb twitched lifelessly on the ground, its black claws still curled.
The creature's four eyes burned into him, not just with rage, but something else. Recognition.
Noah, stunned, stared back.
For a moment, neither moved. The only sound was the deep, unrelenting hum from his chest, the faint glow of blue light flickering against the tunnel walls.
Then, with a guttural snarl, the predator twisted its massive body and bolted into the darkness. It vanished into the shadows, leaving only dust and the fading echo of its screech.
Noah barely registered it. His hands trembled as he touched his chest, feeling the machine still embedded there. The glow was already dimming, the hum fading back to its usual rhythmic whisper.
His mind reeled. His heart pounded.
"What the hell just happened?"
Noah stood frozen, his breath ragged, hands trembling. Was it shock from what had just happened? Or fear of what might come next?
The force of the blast had sent a deep, thunderous explosion echoing through the tunnels, strong enough to sever the creature's massive arm. Yet, as Noah clutched his aching side, struggling to stay upright, one thought clawed at his mind.
It's not dead.
He could still see it—that look the creature had given him before it fled, a mixture of agony and something far worse. Understanding.
Noah swayed where he stood, the machine in his chest still dimly humming as the last of its energy faded. It had taken everything out of him. His skin was pale, his wounds throbbing, his strength nearly gone.
"That thing…" he muttered, forcing himself to breathe through the exhaustion. "It's dangerous… It's intelligent."
He leaned back against the tunnel wall, every muscle in his body screaming for rest. The air was thick with dust and the sharp scent of blood.
"Whatever, man… It is what it is." He let out a shaky breath. "I survived. It lost."
But even as he said it, he knew better. This wasn't over. The tunnels still echoed with distant, guttural roars. He wasn't alone down here.
Noah let himself rest for only a moment, just enough to steady his racing thoughts. Then, with a groan, he pushed himself off the wall. His coat was torn, his body battered, but he had to keep moving.
That's when he saw it.
The severed arm.
It still twitched, the thick black scales gleaming under the dim tunnel light. Even detached from its owner, the thing looked powerful, deadly. The sheer size of it made Noah's stomach tighten. The creature had stood so much larger than him, towering with those long, bladed fingers—each talon at least half a meter long, curved like scythes.
He exhaled sharply.
"That thing was built to kill."
And it was still alive somewhere.
A thought struck him as he crouched beside the severed limb. He was running low on bullets—he couldn't afford to waste another shot if he didn't have to.
"If I can break these claws off," he muttered, running his fingers over the razor-sharp edges, "I could turn them into a weapon…"
But as he tried to pry one free, he quickly realized—this thing's hide was like iron. He had nothing sharp enough to cut through it.
"Damn it." He clenched his jaw. Not yet, anyway.
With a grunt, he hoisted the severed limb onto his back. It was heavy, cumbersome—but he'd carried worse.
And if that thing was still out there, waiting, watching… he needed every advantage he could get.
Noah was ready to move, but escape wasn't an option—at least not through the sinkhole. The opening loomed more than five meters above him, with no way to climb out. His only choice was forward—through the tunnels, through the unknown, dodging whatever creatures lurked in the darkness.
But the tunnels weren't a single path. They branched off in every direction, a maze of twisting corridors, each one a potential dead end. One could wander here for days… maybe even forever.
His jaw tightened as he exhaled sharply.
"What now? Do I just keep moving without a plan?"
Out of instinct, he glanced down at his shadow—only to remember that here, in the depths of this suffocating dark, there was none. The thought unsettled him more than it should have.
"Damn…" he muttered, rubbing his temple. "Am I actually missing you now?" A hollow chuckle escaped him. "Guess five years together will do that. Even the most annoying things start to feel like home."
Turning his attention back to the six diverging paths, he studied them carefully. Choosing at random could be a death sentence. But the middle path stood out—not because of anything visible, but because of what he felt. It was quieter than the others, yet a steady flow of air moved through it.
If air is moving, that means there's space ahead… maybe even an exit.
With cautious steps, he pressed forward, keeping his senses sharp. His gaze traced the tunnel walls, where deep claw marks lined the surface—etched in by the same creatures that ruled this underground abyss.
"They carved these tunnels out themselves… hiding from the hell above?" he murmured under his breath. "If there are no greater predators down here, that would explain how they've thrived…"
But something told him they weren't just animals. There was more to them—more than just instinct.
The deeper he went, the harder it became to see. The only light source came from the faint, pulsing glow of the machine embedded in his chest. It wasn't much, just enough to make out his surroundings—but it also made him a beacon in the dark, an easy target for whatever might be watching.
Then, he reached another split—two new paths stretching into the abyss.
This time, there was no air current to follow. No clear way forward.
But something about the left path… felt different.
A strange warmth radiated from it—not physical heat, but something deeper. Something familiar.
Then—
"Come… Co…me…"
Noah's breath caught in his throat.
The voice wasn't echoing through the tunnel. It wasn't carried by sound.
It was inside his head.
The same low, vibrating call he had heard before—back when the sinkhole had swallowed him whole.
His pulse pounded in his ears. His lips parted, his mind grasping for an explanation, but the only thing that left his mouth was—
"You heard that too, right?"
Silence.
His fingers twitched as the realization hit him again. The shadow's gone. No more second guesses, no more imagined company.
He clenched his fists, shaking his head. Get it together.
But the voice returned, urgent now—insistent.
"Come… come… Noah… this way… before they find you."
Fear prickled at his skin. No. This isn't normal. I'm losing it. I have to be. What else could it be?
And yet… that warmth in his chest, that pull toward the left tunnel—it wasn't just fear. It was something else. Something that quieted his panic just enough to make him hesitate.
He swallowed hard.
"No way that's my imagination," he muttered. His voice barely sounded like his own.
Could be a trap.
Could be salvation.
Either way, standing still wasn't an option.
Gritting his teeth, Noah took a step forward—toward the voice, toward the unknown.
And into the dark.