The air shifts as I ascend the final staircase. There's a weight here, a tension that coils tighter with each step I take. My body, still throbbing from the last fight, feels both heavy and light—a strange mix of exhaustion and adrenaline. I've grown stronger. Faster. More lethal. But even now, I can sense that something awaits me up ahead. Something… different.
I step into the final set of floors, and the layout changes immediately. No more twisting corridors of metal and concrete, no more endless traps waiting to tear me apart. Here, everything is designed for defense. The walls are thicker, lined with layers of steel reinforced with dark materials I can't identify. Massive barricades block the main pathways, constructed with brutal efficiency.
And then I see them—the guards.
They aren't the panicked, desperate humans from the lower floors. These are the elite. Their armor is sleek, polished, almost too perfect in the dim light. Energy shields hum softly in front of them, rippling with a dangerous glow. Automated drones hover above their heads, scanning the room with glowing red eyes. I can see the outline of energy cannons embedded in the walls, their barrels aimed directly at me, ready to fire at the slightest movement.
They've been waiting for me.
A flicker of amusement runs through me. The futility of it all—these humans, clinging to their last defense, thinking they can stop me. They should know better by now.
I step forward, and as soon as I do, the world explodes into chaos.
The energy cannons fire first. A bright flash of light fills the room as the cannons release powerful bursts of energy, crackling with deadly heat. I dodge to the side, the blast missing me by inches, but the heat still scorches the air around me. My muscles coil, and I launch myself forward, running directly toward the first line of soldiers.
Their rifles rise, unleashing a barrage of energy rounds. Each shot hums with lethal force, burning holes into the ground and walls, but I'm too fast. My body moves with inhuman speed, darting from side to side as I close the distance. One of the soldiers reaches for something on his belt—some kind of explosive—but I'm already there.
My claws tear through his chest with ease, the sharp crack of bone splitting beneath my fingers. He gasps, eyes wide with shock, as I fling him into the line of soldiers behind him. His body slams into them, scattering them like toys.
Before they can regroup, I grab a shard of metal from the debris, hurling it toward one of the drones. It slices through the air, hitting its mark with a satisfying *crunch*. The drone sputters, sparks flying as it crashes to the floor in a heap of twisted metal.
I turn, my gaze locking onto the next group of guards. They're backing up now, retreating toward the barricades, but I can see the fear in their eyes. They've seen what I've done, and they know they're next.
They fire again, and this time, I charge through the blasts. The heat sears my skin, but I don't stop. I grab the closest soldier, slamming his head into the wall with a sickening crack. His helmet crumples, and blood spills down the steel surface as his body goes limp.
Another soldier swings at me with an electrified baton, but I catch his wrist mid-swing. I twist, and the sound of bones breaking echoes through the room. He screams, but I silence him with a swift strike to his throat, sending him crumpling to the ground.
The fight is brutal, relentless. Each step I take is marked by blood and carnage, and the walls around me are painted red. I rip through their defenses with a savage efficiency, using whatever I can find as a weapon. Shards of glass, metal rods, even the broken bodies of the soldiers themselves—it all becomes part of my assault. There's no room for hesitation, no room for mercy.
But as I tear through them, something shifts inside me.
I don't feel human anymore. Not even close.
With each kill, with each strike of my claws, I feel myself slipping further into something darker, something more primal. The soldiers' screams fuel me. The wet crunch of bone and the spray of blood excite me in a way that should terrify me—but it doesn't. It thrills me.
I grab another soldier by the neck, lifting him off the ground with one hand. His legs kick helplessly in the air, his eyes wide with terror. He's human—just like I used to be. But as I watch him struggle, I feel nothing. No pity. No connection. Just the raw satisfaction of knowing I'm stronger. That I've become something more than human.
I crush his throat without a second thought, dropping his lifeless body to the ground as I move to the next target.
As the last of the soldiers fall, I stand amidst the wreckage, panting heavily. My body is drenched in blood—some of it mine, most of it not. The drones have been destroyed, the energy cannons silent. The barricades have been shattered, the defenses torn apart.
And yet, I don't feel victorious.
I stare down at my hands—clawed, covered in gore—and for a moment, a flicker of something unfamiliar passes through me. It's not regret. No, I don't regret any of it. But there's something else… something darker.
I've lost something. I've lost the part of me that was human.
I flex my fingers, watching the blood drip from my claws, and the realization sinks in like a stone. I don't even care. The part of me that might have once hesitated, that might have questioned the violence I've unleashed—it's gone. I've become something else now. Something savage. Something unstoppable.
I feel my lips curl into a grin, the taste of blood thick in my mouth. There's no going back now. I *enjoyed* the carnage. I *wanted* it. And now, I want more.
Whatever's waiting for me at the top of this tower, whatever creature or monster stands in my way—it doesn't stand a chance.