Jared's world was nothing but agony. Each breath felt like a jagged knife being forced into his lungs, every movement an excruciating reminder that his body was not meant to endure this kind of pain. The creatures were on him again, dragging him to the ground, their claws sinking deep into his flesh.
One of them had pounced from behind, its talons scraping across his back as it pulled him down. He tried to scream, but it was drowned out by the deafening sounds of its monstrous growls. The air around him stank of rot, blood, and death. The pain in his side flared as the creature's claws punctured deeper, shredding through his skin, and his vision went white with the shock.
Then the weight of the world crashed down on him, and everything went black.
The next thing Jared knew, he was back. His body was wrecked, torn apart in places, but somehow, he was alive. He gasped, the world around him spinning, blood pouring from his wounds, but he was breathing. The pain surged back into his body like fire, each pulse in his veins a reminder of what had just happened.
More monsters began surrounding him.
They loomed over him , their dark eyes glowing with hunger. Claws reached down, tearing into him once more. His screams were hoarse, his body trembling, but he couldn't escape. Each time he died, he was reborn—only to face the same fate, again and again. The monsters never stopped. They never relented. He couldn't even think, couldn't even process, just fight and feel every bite, every tear, as his body was devoured.
The creature's fangs tore into his throat. His blood spilled like a river, and he was pulled into the blackness again, but it wasn't permanent. It never was.
Jared's body lurched back into existence, raw, broken, and covered in his own blood. His limbs felt heavy, and the pain was unbearable. He struggled to move, tried to rise, but his body refused to obey. And then, the monsters returned.
The same creatures that had torn him apart before. The same hunger in their eyes. The same clawed hands raking across his skin. They were tireless, relentless, and they were taking their time with him.
He wanted to scream, wanted to beg for it to end. But all he could do was feel—feel the rending of his flesh, the snap of his bones, the pulsing, overwhelming agony of it all.
Each time he died, he was brought back to life, to face them once more. The pain stretched on, an endless loop. His limbs were barely working, his strength drained, and yet somehow, he kept standing. He couldn't stop. He couldn't even fight back.
Moments stretched on for an eternity, each one a sharp echo of the last, where time was no longer a concept, just an endless cascade of agony. Jared's body had become a fragmented thing, his skin an unrecognizable patchwork of torn flesh, and his bones a brittle, unfeeling cage. His limbs barely moved, his strength drained to the point where even breathing felt like an impossible task. And yet, despite it all, despite the relentless, overwhelming urge to simply stop, to let the pain consume him completely, he kept standing.
His movements were mechanical, like a marionette pulled by invisible strings. He couldn't stop. He couldn't fight back. Every time he tried to summon enough strength to strike, to defend himself, his body crumpled, failing him in a thousand different ways. But somehow, despite the bone-deep exhaustion, despite the despair that clawed at him like one of the creatures themselves, Jared kept standing.
It wasn't courage. It wasn't heroism. It was the basic instinct to survive, even when survival felt like a cruel joke. He was no longer fighting to win. He was simply fighting to end the pain.
The monsters closed in around him again, their claws dragging across his flesh, their breath hot and rancid against his skin. He could hear the growls, the sickening noises of tearing meat, but Jared was numb to it now. His body was in a constant state of shock, and the pain was something that no longer made sense—it had become as much a part of him as his beating heart, a constant, unrelenting presence.
Jared's body trembled with each shallow breath, the air thick with the stench of death and decay. His muscles screamed in protest, and his vision blurred from the pain. Every inch of him felt as though it was being slowly shredded, and yet, he still drew breath. Why am I still alive? The question echoed through his mind, as hollow and broken as his body.
The creatures were closing in again. He could feel their eyes on him, hear the faint scrape of their claws on the floor as they prowled, waiting for the next moment to strike. They were relentless—monsters born from nightmares—and Jared had become nothing more than their plaything. Every death was followed by a rebirth, each time more agonizing than the last. His body was torn apart, and yet somehow, he was brought back. To face them. Again. And again.
He tried to move, but his limbs were like lead, his body unwilling to obey. His hands shook as he tried to push himself up, but the effort was too much. A scream tried to claw its way out of his throat, but it died on his cracked lips. There was nothing left. No strength, no will—just an endless, gnawing ache that devoured him from the inside out.
As his mind began to fade, the world around Jared grew dark, his body sinking into the depths of exhaustion. But then, through the haze of pain and despair, he heard it. A sound.
A horn.
Its blast was sharp, like a signal, cutting through the chaos and the endless growls of the monsters. Jared's heart thudded painfully in his chest, and for a brief moment, the creatures paused. The air seemed to freeze, as if even the horrors that surrounded him could not ignore the strange, otherworldly sound that rang out through the room.
The monsters, which had been circling him like vultures, halted. Their bodies twitched, their eyes wide with confusion and fear. The air itself seemed to crackle with tension, the creatures hesitating, their movements sluggish and uncertain. It was as if the horn had unlocked something inside them—something primal that told them to retreat.
Jared could barely keep his eyes open, the weight of his pain threatening to drag him into unconsciousness. But as the horn sounded again, he felt a strange surge of hope—a flicker of possibility amidst the endless torment.
The creatures were backing away.
One by one, they turned, their frantic movements a stark contrast to the way they had been relentlessly closing in moments ago. They were retreating, vanishing into the shadows from where they had come, their eerie growls fading into the distance.
Jared's vision wavered, but he forced his eyes to stay open, clinging to the precious moments of respite. The monsters were gone. The battle wasn't over—but for the first time, there was silence.
As he lay there, bloodied and broken, the sound of the horn still echoing faintly in his ears, he allowed himself to believe, just for a second, that this might be the end of it. That maybe, just maybe, the cycle of torment might finally be broken.
He closed his eyes , and the world slipped into darkness.