The dungeon trembled violently, sending chunks of stone and dust cascading from the high arches above. The tremors reverberated through the ancient hall, and Benjamin was thrown against the wall with a force that knocked the air out of his lungs. Atty let out a sharp yowl, tumbling across the floor before coming to a dazed stop near the crumbling edge of the room.
The pulses from the hexahedron became more rhythmic, the vibrations shaking the room in waves. Benjamin groaned, blinking as his vision blurred. The artifact in the center of the chamber pulsed with an intense light, its intricate symbols glowing in patterns that seemed to ripple outward, each pulse sending a shockwave through the air.
---
Benjamin clutched his side, his ribs aching, as he struggled to focus. The pulses pushed against him like invisible hands, each one strong enough to force him back a few inches. His arms burned as he tried to steady himself against the floor.
"I need to get out of here," he muttered, his voice hoarse. His gaze darted to Atty, who lay motionless nearby.
Ignoring the pain, Benjamin crawled forward, dragging himself closer to the Attush with every pulse. Each wave of energy slammed into him, making his progress agonizingly slow. The hexahedron seemed to hover slightly above its pedestal now, rotating slowly as its light brightened.
---
As he reached Atty, the pulses began to weaken, though they still hit with enough force to make his movements clumsy. He cradled the small creature against his chest, its fur warm and faintly twitching as it began to stir.
"Almost there," Benjamin grunted, gritting his teeth as he crawled toward the exit.
But before he could make it, the hexahedron spoke.
"You will do."
The voice was deep, resonant, and filled the entire hall. It was neither human nor animal, but something ancient and amused, as if it had been waiting for this moment for millennia.
Benjamin froze, his heart racing as the air grew impossibly heavy. He turned his head, his body trembling, to see the hexahedron's light intensify. The pulsing stopped, replaced by a steady, blinding glow.
"No," he whispered, clutching Atty tightly. "Not me. Find someone else."
The hexahedron tilted slightly, almost as if regarding him, before it shot toward him with terrifying speed.
---
Benjamin twisted Kareya's ring, sending out every last charge of its force-pushing energy. A massive pulse erupted, meeting the incoming artifact head-on. The collision sent a shockwave through the room, shaking its very foundations.
Dust filled the air as stone cracked and crumbled. Benjamin coughed violently, his body slumping to the ground from the exertion. The light from the hexahedron dimmed, and for a moment, silence reigned.
When the dust settled, Benjamin was still on the floor, his hand clutching something cool and heavy. He blinked, his vision clearing, to see the hexahedron resting in his palm, its light faint but steady.
His body felt strange—alien. A heavy weight pressed on his mind, something that wasn't entirely his own. He struggled to breathe, his heart pounding as he tried to process what had happened.
Nearby, Atty stirred, crawling closer to his master. The Attush blinked its golden eyes, tilting its head in confusion as it gazed at Benjamin.
Then it froze.
Benjamin's eyes were no longer his. They glowed faintly, the color shifting and swirling like molten metal. Atty's fur bristled, its small body trembling as it let out a soft, frightened sound.
---
Benjamin smirked faintly, his expression unfamiliar even to himself. He looked down at the hexahedron in his hand, his grip tightening as its intricate patterns shifted subtly, almost alive.
"Yes," the voice from before rumbled again, though this time it came from Benjamin's mouth, his tone layered with something inhuman. "This will do nicely."
Benjamin's body relaxed, his movements slow and deliberate as he sat upright. Atty backed away slightly, its ears flattened against its head, watching its master with wide, fearful eyes.
The smirk on Benjamin's face widened, though the confusion and fear behind his own thoughts screamed in silence. What's happening to me?
The entity within the hexahedron spoke again, but this time directly into his mind.
"Finally," it said, its voice dripping with satisfaction. "After so long, I have a body."
--
Benjamin's body moved through the labyrinthine corridors with a steady, deliberate stride, but inside, his mind was a battlefield. He clawed at the edges of his consciousness, straining against the invisible chains that bound him.
Let me go! Benjamin screamed within his own thoughts, trying to will his arms to stop, his legs to falter—anything.
The entity within him only laughed, its voice echoing mockingly in his mind. "Why struggle, little worm? You are but a shell. Surrender and save yourself the humiliation."
Benjamin gritted his teeth, frustration boiling over. I won't let you use me.
"You have no choice," the voice hissed, its tone amused. "Your body is mine. Your soul? A trinket I'll discard once I've finished devouring this world."
---
Behind him, Atty followed cautiously, its movements uncharacteristically slow and hesitant. The Attush's golden eyes flicked between Benjamin and the shadows of the hallway, confusion and fear clear in its posture.
As they moved deeper into the dungeon, the Tyrans began to appear again, emerging from crevices and perched on stone ledges. But something was different now. The moment the creatures caught sight of Benjamin, they screeched in terror, their guttural cries echoing through the halls.
They scattered, their wings beating frantically as they fled, claws skittering against stone in their desperation to escape.
Benjamin felt the unease in their reaction, the primal fear that radiated from the creatures. They're scared of me, he realized. No, they're scared of it. Whatever this thing is... it's worse than them.
The entity chuckled aloud, its voice layered with amusement and cruelty. "Fools. They remember the taste of my power."
---
Eventually, Benjamin's possessed body approached another massive door, its surface engraved with intricate runes and symbols. The entity guided his hand to the center of the door, pressing the palm against it. A soft hum filled the air, followed by a resonant click as the door groaned and swung open.
The room beyond was vast, the ceiling arching high above and the walls lined with ancient, shattered murals. At the far end stood an altar, illuminated by a strange, unearthly light that seemed to pulse in time with the hexahedron.
The entity walked Benjamin's body forward, its voice slipping into an audible monologue.
"Trapped here for centuries, sealed away by weaklings who thought they could bind me. Fools, all of them. Now, their precious world will burn."
The voice dripped with malice, growing more fervent as they approached the altar. "They scratched their warnings on these walls, hoping to protect those who followed. But it will not matter. None of it matters. Khial will be mine again."
---
Inside, Benjamin listened, piecing together fragments of the entity's words while struggling against its control. He could feel his body, his muscles moving, his chest breathing—but he was powerless to stop any of it.
It's controlling me through the hexahedron, he thought, his mind racing. If I can break the connection…
He tried to calm himself, forcing the fear and anger aside. Focus, Ben. You've been in tight spots before. Think.
His thoughts shifted to Atty, who had been trailing him the whole time. The Attush wasn't far behind, its movements cautious but loyal. Benjamin reached out in his mind, focusing every ounce of his will on the bond he shared with the creature.
Atty… you can feel me, right? I need you. Please, listen.
---
Atty stopped a few paces behind Benjamin, its fur bristling as it stared up at the altar. Its golden eyes flicked to its master, then to the glowing hexahedron in his hands.
The Attush's ears twitched as if hearing something faint, something only it could sense. Its small body trembled, but it took a tentative step forward, then another.
The entity seemed unaware, too focused on its triumphant ascent up the altar's stairs. "The fools never realized that I was not their prisoner," it said aloud. "I was their reckoning. And now, I shall finish what they dared to stop."
Atty's movements grew bolder, its steps silent and precise. It crept closer, its golden eyes locked on the hexahedron.
Benjamin's presence flickered in its mind, faint but insistent. Now, Atty. Knock it loose!
---
Atty leapt, slamming its small body into the hexahedron with surprising force. The artifact wobbled, the glowing runes on its surface flickering erratically. The shockwave that followed was immediate—a blast of energy that threw Atty across the room and sent Benjamin's body slumping to the ground.
For the first time since the possession, Benjamin felt his body again. His fingers twitched, and he groaned, his head pounding as he tried to regain his footing.
But the victory was short-lived. The hexahedron stabilized itself midair, its glow intensifying with rage.
"You dare?" the entity roared, its voice a deafening thunder that reverberated through the chamber. "You miserable beast!"
Benjamin forced himself upright, his vision still blurry. He turned to see Atty lying on its side, its body trembling as it struggled to stand. The glow of the hexahedron reached out like tendrils, latching onto the Attush.
"No!" Benjamin shouted, his voice raw.
The entity sneered, its malice palpable. "If it wants to play hero, let it suffer like the rest."
The light surged, and Atty let out a pained cry as its body began to twist and contort. Fur gave way to strange, darkened flesh as the corruption took hold, spreading rapidly.
Benjamin's heart sank, his hands clenching into fists. This is my fault.
The hexahedron floated ominously, its glow pulsing with cruel satisfaction. "Watch, little worm, as your precious companion becomes mine."
--
Benjamin's mind plunged into a storm of visions, overwhelming him with images, sounds, and sensations he couldn't fully comprehend. The hexahedron was not just an artifact of power; it was a repository of history, knowledge, and something far older than the world itself. The torrent of information pressed against his consciousness, nearly drowning him in its weight.
And then, like a melody cutting through the chaos, a story began to unfold in his mind.
---
In the beginning, there was Asterion, the Source Beyond All. Neither male nor female, neither light nor shadow, Asterion was existence itself—a being of infinite will and creativity. From Asterion's thoughts came the world of Khial, woven into form by the sheer force of its will.
But Asterion's act of creation was not solitary. To bring harmony to the world, it shaped the Itharim, the stewards of Khial. Radiant spirits, each given dominion over an aspect of the world's balance: the tides and winds, the growth of forests, the coursing of energy, the laws of life and death.
Each Itharim was bound to Khial's fabric, their essence intertwined with the natural laws they governed. They sang their purpose into the world, their harmony shaping and sustaining Khial.
---
But there was one among them who was not bound to a single purpose. He was called Malachros, the Untethered, created with a spark of freedom unlike his brethren. Where the others existed to serve and sustain, Malachros was meant to explore, to question, to adapt.
At first, he reveled in this freedom, his song blending with the Itharim in new and creative ways. He wandered Khial, learning the depths of its creation and observing the mortal beings who began to populate the world.
But as the centuries passed, Malachros' wonder turned to envy. He saw the laws of Khial as chains, binding the world to a static order. Mortals, though weak, could choose their paths. They could err, defy, and grow in ways the Itharim could not.
"Why must I serve what was simply given?" Malachros whispered to himself, his voice echoing in the void.
The others did not understand his questions. To them, their purpose was joy—harmony was all they needed. But Malachros grew bitter, his mind twisting with resentment. He began to experiment, bending the natural laws, testing their limits.
---
"And so, the Untethered sang a song of his own, and it tore at the weave of Khial."
The balance began to falter. Plants withered where they should have thrived. Rivers reversed their course. Creatures twisted into monstrous forms. The Itharim, horrified, tried to intervene, but Malachros turned on them, wielding his understanding of Khial's laws as a weapon.
Asterion's sorrow filled the world as it saw its creation unraveling. It confronted Malachros, its voice not of anger but of mourning.
"Malachros," Asterion spoke, "your gift of freedom was not given to destroy but to uplift. Why have you strayed so far?"
But Malachros rejected the words. "Your balance is a lie," he said, his voice sharp and cold. "Only chaos brings growth. Only destruction brings creation."
Asterion would not destroy what it had made, but it could not allow Malachros to unmake Khial. And so, it sang the First Binding, severing Malachros from his full power. His essence was scattered into shards, each piece a fragment of his will, hidden within the fabric of Khial.
---
"The shards of Malachros slumbered, waiting for a voice to wake them."
As the visions faded, Benjamin gasped, his chest heaving. He staggered as the weight of what he'd learned pressed on him. The hexahedron was one of those shards—a prison containing part of Malachros's essence. And now, it had awakened.
The voice of the entity growled, low and thunderous, cutting into Benjamin's thoughts. "You think yourself clever, little mortal, for glimpsing my truth. But knowledge alone will not save you."
Benjamin clenched his fists, his breath steadying. "You're Malachros," he said aloud, his voice firm. "Or at least a piece of him. You're not a god. You're not even whole."
The shard pulsed in his hand, the light flaring angrily. "And yet, even broken, I am beyond your understanding. The Maker shackled me, but you—" The entity laughed, a sound that echoed with malice. "You've given me a vessel. Your body, your soul—they are mine to wield."
Benjamin's knees buckled as the shard's power surged through him. Images of destruction flashed in his mind—forests burning, rivers turning black, cities crumbling into dust. The visions weren't just threats; they were promises.
---
But then, through the chaos, Benjamin felt a faint connection—a warmth, soft and steady. Atty's presence, though corrupted and writhing, still lingered at the edge of his awareness.
The entity's voice grew sharp. "That creature? A speck of life clinging to existence. Let it go."
Benjamin's jaw tightened. "No," he said, his voice quiet but resolute. "This isn't over."
As the shard's glow flared, Benjamin focused all his will, reaching for the bond he shared with Atty. The Attush's trembling form shifted, its golden eyes meeting his briefly before it let out a weak but defiant growl.
The entity laughed again. "You can't win, little mortal. Surrender, and I will make your end painless."
But Benjamin didn't answer. Instead, he braced himself, his resolve hardening as he prepared for what was to come.