The storm had not eased by the time Oliver woke. The patter of rain against the shattered windows of the convenience store was relentless, accompanied by the occasional low rumble of thunder. He blinked at the dim light filtering through the clouded sky, the world outside painted in shades of gray.
The shard still sat on the floor beside him, its faint glow undiminished. Oliver stared at it for a long moment, weighing his options. The journal's warnings about the shards echoed in his mind. *They amplify the darkness within.* He didn't want to think about what that might mean for someone like him. He felt the weight of every decision—each mistake could bring him closer to the same corruption he fought against.
Still, there was no room for hesitation. He picked up the shard, holding it carefully in his palm. The warmth it radiated was almost soothing, and for a moment, he felt an odd calm wash over him, a stark contrast to the turmoil inside. He slid it into the pouch on his belt and began packing his gear. He had lingered long enough.
Once back outside, the city was as lifeless as ever. The rain had formed rivers in the gutters, carrying away the grime and ash that coated the streets. Oliver moved cautiously, weaving between abandoned cars and rubble. The faint crackling of his boots against wet debris was the only sound, but his ears were attuned to more. He knew better than to trust the quiet.
The journal had mentioned a safe zone to the north, a haven where remnants of humanity had managed to carve out an existence amidst the chaos. The warrior's notes hinted that it might be where others like him had gathered, those who had been marked by the same strange powers. If such a place still existed, it was his best chance at finding answers.
He passed a burnt-out pharmacy, its shelves looted and its walls blackened with soot. The skeleton of a car rested nearby, its hood peeled back like a sardine can. The sight brought a bitter pang to his chest—a reminder of the world before, and the stark contrast of what remained.
As he made his way deeper into the city, the rain began to ease, but the overcast sky hung low, oppressive. He paused at a crossroads, consulting the map scrawled in the back of the journal. The safe zone wasn't far—if he maintained a steady pace, he could reach it before nightfall.
Then, he felt it. The air around him grew heavy, charged with an energy that made his skin prickle. He turned slowly, his eyes scanning the deserted streets. There was no sound, no movement, yet the feeling persisted. A sudden wind whipped through the avenue, rattling loose pieces of metal and scattering debris.
And then, he saw it.
Emerging from the shadows of a collapsed overpass was a figure cloaked in darkness. Its form was humanoid, but wrong—its proportions stretched and distorted. Its face, if it could be called that, was obscured beneath a black void that seemed to ripple like liquid. The creature moved with an unnatural grace, its steps silent as it glided across the wet pavement.
Oliver's grip on his dagger tightened. His instincts screamed at him to run, but his legs refused to move. The air felt suffocating, and the faint hum of electricity in his veins flickered like a dying flame. The figure stopped several paces away, its presence radiating malice.
"You carry a shard," the figure rasped, its voice a discordant blend of whispers. "It does not belong to you."
Oliver swallowed hard, his throat dry. "Who are you?" he managed to say, his voice steadier than he felt.
The creature tilted its head, as if amused by the question. "A fragment of what you will become," it replied. "Unless you surrender it."
He shook his head, trying to steady his breathing. "Not a chance."
The void where the creature's face should have been shifted, and Oliver felt a wave of nausea. It raised a hand, its elongated fingers tipped with razor-like claws. "Then you will fall."
The creature lunged, faster than anything Oliver had faced before. He barely managed to dodge, the claws slicing through the air where he had stood a moment ago. Electricity crackled at his fingertips as he rolled to his feet, summoning a spark. He hurled a bolt at the figure, but it dissolved into shadow, the lightning striking only empty air.
It reappeared behind him, striking with a force that sent him sprawling. Pain flared in his side as he hit the ground, but he scrambled to his feet, his mind racing. The creature was faster, stronger, and seemed impervious to his attacks. He needed to think—needed to adapt.
The journal's words echoed in his mind. *Corruption feeds on fear. Hold your ground.*
Oliver steadied himself, gripping his dagger tightly. His breathing slowed, and he focused on the faint hum of energy within him. The creature lunged again, but this time, he didn't move. At the last moment, he sidestepped, slashing with his blade. The dagger caught the edge of the creature's form, and it let out a shriek that made his ears ring.
It staggered, and for the first time, Oliver saw a flicker of light within the darkness—a small, glowing core, similar to the shard he carried. His pulse quickened. *The core. That's its weakness.*
The creature recovered quickly, its movements growing more erratic, more desperate. Oliver knew he had to end this now. He focused, summoning every ounce of energy he could muster. Lightning sparked in his hands, growing brighter, wilder. The storm inside him roared to life, and he directed it toward the creature's core.
The bolt struck true, piercing through the darkness. The creature let out a final, deafening wail as it disintegrated, its form unraveling into nothingness. The oppressive weight in the air lifted, and Oliver collapsed to his knees, his chest heaving.
Where the creature had stood, another shard lay on the ground, its glow faint but steady. Oliver stared at it, his mind racing. If the first shard had been a danger and a key, what did this one represent? He hesitated, but eventually picked it up, placing it beside the first in his pouch.
The sky above remained gray, but the rain had stopped. Oliver rose slowly, his body aching but his resolve stronger than ever. Whatever these shards were, they were tied to his power—and to the darkness he sought to overcome.
With the safe zone looming ahead, he pressed onward, the weight of the shards heavy at his side. Each step was a reminder that the battle was far from over, but now, he carried the spark of something greater: the beginnings of understanding.