The beast roared once more, its deafening cry sending shockwaves through the dungeon. Stone walls trembled, cracks snaking through the pillars as bits of debris rained down. The creature's three heads moved in perfect synchrony, as though communicating silently, their glowing eyes filled with more than just primal rage. There was a dangerous intelligence behind them—a cold, calculated focus as if it was studying its prey.
Killian stood panting, his muscles screaming in protest. His aura flickered weakly around him, barely holding on. Every slash, every strike had drained his energy, his body trembling from exhaustion.
One more strike... just one more, he thought, but his body refused to cooperate, weighed down by fatigue and pain.
Aiden, too, was nearing his limit. His massive wolf form crouched low, every breath a rasping, labored sound. The beast's impenetrable golden scales had deflected every one of his attacks, leaving his claws useless against its armored hide. And the worst of it—every roar, every echo of the creature's dominance pushed Aiden further into submission, his beastman instincts demanding he yield to the superior predator. His body froze, the crushing weight of the beast's overwhelming aura pressing him down, mind and body betraying him.
Killian's thoughts raced. Even if I call for reinforcements, it won't matter. This thing will slaughter my men before they can even get close.
His sword felt like lead in his hand, too heavy to lift. He glanced at Aiden, who was barely holding on, his once fiery resolve dimming under the oppressive presence of the beast.
I can't let Aiden die here. This is my fault... I should've known better.
"Aiden... go," Killian rasped, his voice hoarse but firm.
Aiden's amber eyes snapped toward him, flashing with defiance. "What do you mean, go? I'm not leaving you behind!" His growl carried a dangerous edge, fury lacing every word. "We fight together."
"There's no time for this!" Killian barked, forcing his aching body upright. "I'll hold it off, but you need to escape! Warn the others—if this thing reaches the surface, it'll destroy everything!"
Aiden's hackles bristled. "I won't abandon you, Kil! I won't leave you to face this monster alone!" His voice, full of raw determination, refused to waver.
"You're always like this," Killian thought, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. You still see me as that weak kid. His eyes softened for a fleeting moment before hardening with resolve. "Fine. Then we finish this now."
The beast let out a low, guttural roar that shook the ground, each step of its massive body creating tremors as it charged. Killian didn't hesitate. In one fluid motion, he leaped onto Aiden's back, and the beastman surged forward. Aiden's powerful legs propelled them away from the oncoming onslaught, his speed keeping them just out of reach of the lightning bolts erupting from the creature's gaping maws.
"We've got one chance," Aiden growled, dodging another blast. The air crackled with electricity, the heat of the blasts searing the stone around them.
"I know," Killian replied, a small, almost feral smile tugging at his lips. One strike... that's all I need.
The beast's heads turned in unison, sensing the danger. Their eyes gleamed as they opened their jaws, readying another barrage of lightning aimed directly at them.
"NOW, KIL!" Aiden roared.
With a mighty leap, Aiden scaled the massive creature, his claws digging into the cracks between its scales. Each movement was precise, calculated, his body working in perfect coordination with Killian perched on his back. Killian's sword glowed faintly with the last remnants of his aura, the weight of it familiar in his hands despite his exhaustion.
They were almost there—just a little closer to the weak spot Killian had damaged earlier. But the beast was faster than anticipated. Three heads turned toward them, unleashing a flurry of lightning bolts.
Aiden twisted midair, dodging the first two strikes with agility, but the third bolt was too fast. It struck his side, sending him crashing onto the beast's back with a pained yelp. The impact left him sprawled against the creature's massive form, stunned.
Killian saw the chance slipping away but forced his body to move. He leaped off Aiden's back, every ounce of strength pouring into one final, desperate attack. His sword flared brighter, the golden aura surrounding it intensifying as he drove the blade into the beast's weak spot.
The sword pierced through the crack in the creature's armor with a sickening crunch, sinking deep into its flesh. Killian roared, his voice filled with defiance, forcing the blade deeper.
The beast let out a shrill cry of agony, thrashing violently as blood gushed from the wound. Its heads whipped around in a frenzy, and before Killian could pull back, one of the massive jaws clamped down on him, teeth sinking into his side.
"AAAHHH!" Killian's scream echoed through the hall, blood spraying from his mouth. The searing pain threatened to overwhelm him, every nerve alight with agony, but still, he refused to let go of his sword.
"KILLIAN!" Aiden's howl reverberated through the chamber, filled with rage and desperation. He scrambled to his feet, but before he could reach Killian, another head lunged at him. He dodged the first strike, but the second hit him square in the chest with a powerful blast of lightning, sending him crashing into the stone wall. Smoke rose from his fur as he lay still, darkness creeping into his vision. His body twitched once before everything went black.
Killian, still trapped in the beast's jaws, felt his strength slipping away. Blood poured from his wounds, pooling beneath him as his vision blurred. But even through the haze of pain, he could make out Aiden's motionless form.
"Aiden... no..." he whispered, stretching out his arm toward his fallen friend. The beast tightened its grip, crushing his ribs, his breath growing shallow as blood filled his lungs. This can't be how it ends...
-----------
Flashback
As Killian's consciousness began to flicker, a buried memory surged to the surface—a memory so deeply ingrained that it refused to stay forgotten, no matter how much time had passed.
He was a little boy again, back in the slums of Arlecia.
The air was thick and damp, heavy with the scent of rain-soaked earth and the stench of decay. The narrow alleyways seemed to close in on him, suffocating under the weight of poverty and misery that clung to every corner. The distant hum of voices floated through the air—indistinct murmurs of people too caught up in their own suffering to care about anyone else. No one ever noticed him. No one ever cared.
He had always been alone.
His mother, bedridden and frail, was the only constant in his world. Her once-beautiful face had withered with sickness, her body too weak to leave the crumbling shack they called home. Every day, Killian scoured the streets, rummaging through refuse and discarded scraps, desperately searching for anything that could feed them or stave off her illness. Medicine, in their world, was a distant dream—a luxury only afforded to those who could pay the con men masquerading as doctors, peddling cheap remedies that did more harm than good.
His small hands trembled as he recalled those desperate days—days where he would return empty-handed, guilt gnawing at him like a relentless parasite. He had been so young, barely old enough to comprehend the harsh realities of the world, yet already forced to carry the crushing burden of survival.
One particular afternoon stood out, more vivid than the others. The rain had been relentless, drumming against his skin like cold, merciless fists. His clothes were soaked through, his tiny body trembling as he searched for anything—anything—that might help. After hours of fruitless wandering, he finally spotted a piece of stale bread, half-buried in the mud. His heart leapt with a fleeting glimmer of hope. He picked it up, clutching it tightly, ignoring the gnawing hunger in his stomach. He couldn't eat it—wouldn't eat it. It was for his mother. She needed it more than he did.
But as he made his way back to their shack, a group of older boys noticed him. The slums were a cruel, unforgiving place, and food—no matter how rotten—was worth fighting for. They cornered him, their eyes glinting with predatory hunger. Killian tried to run, but it was useless. They descended on him like wolves, kicking and punching until his small body was battered and bruised, the bread slipping from his hands and falling into the mud.
He watched through tear-blurred eyes as they devoured the bread, the very thing that was supposed to keep his mother alive. His heart shattered in that moment, and for the first time, he truly understood the depth of their world's cruelty.
By the time he made it back to the shack, he was barely standing. His limbs ached, his vision swam, but none of that mattered. He staggered inside, calling out to his mother in a voice hoarse with desperation.
There was no answer.
His heart pounded, a rising tide of dread swelling in his chest. He called out again, louder this time, stumbling toward her. She lay still on the cot, her frail body barely more than a shadow. Her eyes were open, unseeing, her lips slightly parted as if trying to speak—but no sound came.
"Mom... please... wake up..." His voice trembled as he knelt beside her, his small hands shaking as he reached out to touch her cold skin. But he knew. Even before the words left his lips, deep down, he knew.
She was gone.
That night, Killian cried until he had no tears left. His small body, wracked with exhaustion and hunger, finally collapsed next to hers, clutching her cold, lifeless hand as if holding on might bring her back. His eyes, swollen from grief, soon grew dim, the world around him fading into darkness. He could no longer see. Grief had stolen his sight, plunging him into a black abyss where nothing mattered anymore.
Days passed, though to Killian, they felt like years. He stayed by her side, unwilling—unable—to move. The smell of decay filled the small shack, the stench of death suffocating him, but he didn't care. Nothing mattered anymore. He stopped eating, stopped drinking, simply waiting for death to come and take him too.
And then, one night, after the rain had finally stopped, he heard footsteps approaching. At first, he thought nothing of it—just another passerby, someone who would ignore him like everyone else. But then, the door creaked open, and someone stepped inside.
"What... What the hell?" The voice was young, startled, as if they hadn't expected to find anyone there. "I didn't think anyone lived here."
Killian didn't respond, didn't move. His voice was flat, lifeless. "There's nothing here for you to steal," he muttered. "So leave."
There was a long pause before the stranger spoke again, softer this time. "Are you... blind?"
The voice sounded curious, but not unkind. The stranger waved a hand in front of Killian's face, but he didn't react. "Yeah, you are..."
Another silence followed, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Finally, the boy spoke again, his tone dropping to a near-whisper. "Look, I know this might sound crazy, but... do you want to come with me? I'm new in town, and I've got my own problems. Some bad people are after me, so I thought this shack might be a good place to hide out. I didn't know anyone lived here."
Killian's mind was too numb to process the offer. He had nothing left—no reason to care, no reason to go on. But there was something in the boy's voice, something that didn't carry pity—only a strange, awkward sense of kinship.
"I lost my family too," the boy continued, his voice softer now. "They burned my home and killed everyone I knew. So... I know how you feel. Maybe we can help each other."
Killian remained silent for a long time, the darkness around him pressing in. But eventually, something stirred within him—something small, fragile, but undeniable. With trembling fingers, he reached out, his hand finding the boy's.
From that moment, everything changed.
Time passed, and Killian found himself living on the outskirts of Arlecia with the boy who introduced himself as Aiden. They built a home from scraps and stolen materials, a makeshift camp hidden deep in the forest. Though Killian's world remained cloaked in darkness, he learned to rely on Aiden. The beastman would hunt, bringing back fresh game, and for the first time in Killian's life, he tasted real food—an unimaginable luxury in the slums.
Slowly, almost miraculously, his sight began to return. The thick, gray fog that had shrouded his vision began to lift, and one day, colors bled back into his world.
He remembered that day vividly.
Sitting by the campfire, feeling the warmth of the flames against his skin, Killian had looked up—and there he was. Aiden, his friend, grinning from ear to ear, amber eyes gleaming in the firelight as he handed Killian a roasted rabbit.
Killian's eyes had filled with tears, his voice trembling. "I... I can see again," he whispered, overwhelmed by the sheer joy of it.
Aiden's eyes widened in surprise, then broke into a wide smile. "You can? Really?" He smacked Killian playfully on the back of the head, laughing. "Why didn't you say something sooner? I thought I made you cry!"
Killian had wiped away his tears, a smile breaking through his emotional storm. "I can see you now," he said, his heart swelling with gratitude. For the first time in years, his world was full of color, warmth, and hope.
Aiden, ever the optimist, had handed him the rabbit with a grin. "Good! Now eat up. You said you wanted to be strong like me, didn't you? You've gotta eat if you want to keep up."
Killian had laughed through his tears and took the rabbit, each bite filling him with the strength he had once thought lost forever.
Flashback ends
The memory faded, but Killian's will surged. He could still feel the beast's teeth digging into his side, the searing pain coursing through his body—but he wasn't broken. Not yet.
Aiden... He couldn't let his friend down. Not after everything they had been through. Not after everything Aiden had done for him.
With one final, desperate surge of strength, Killian tightened his grip on the sword still lodged in the beast's body, his mind ablaze with the memories of Aiden who had saved him so long ago.
"I won't... let it end here."