Álkan ran with his heart racing, his feet instinctively moving over the cracked ground covered in gray dust. Behind him, the deformed monsters followed slowly, their sharp claws scratching the stones and their empty eyes fixed on their prey. Even though they hesitated, their predatory instinct pushed them forward.
As he advanced, Álkan passed through the ruins of ancient houses and structures. Stone walls had been torn down, ruined towers rose like bony fingers pointing to the red sky. Everything around him seemed like a graveyard of a forgotten civilization.
Exhaustion began to weigh on his body. He could no longer keep the sword of light active; the energy required to manifest it was too much for his current state. With no other alternative, he ran towards the rubble of a collapsed tower, passing through an opening in the wall.
Inside, the darkness dominated the environment. Even so, Álkan could glimpse broken capsules, twisted metal tables and the remains of rusty surgical instruments. Shattered vials and dried liquids stained the floor. The place seemed to have been an experimental laboratory, but there was no time to explore.
Continuing his escape, he found a corridor that led to an underground area of the tower. Prisoner cells were arranged against the stone walls, their bars rusted and doors open. The silence there was almost palpable, as if the air itself had given up vibrating.
Álkan hid in one of the empty cells, his breathing heavy and irregular. He needed a break, but he knew he couldn't stay there for long. Closing his eyes, he tried to feel that luminous energy inside him. He did some tests, concentrating, and discovered that he didn't necessarily need to summon a sword. He could create other, simpler and more economical forms, such as a light torch.
He didn't understand how he managed to summon the sword of light and the torch when he didn't even remember anything other than his own name. It seemed instinctive.
The ethereal flame floated in his hand, emitting a soft, steady glow. Álkan deduced that it used less energy than keeping the sword of light active. With this new discovery, he found a way out of the tower through a hole in the wall.
Outside, the world remained shrouded in destruction. The monsters that had followed him before now watched him from afar, fearing the light. Their grotesque forms trembled, and the ground beneath them seemed to writhe with the presence of the creatures.
Álkan climbed the rubble, seeking a wider view of the horizon. In the distance, a point of blue light shone, almost like a beacon in the darkness. However, he knew that reaching that point would be dangerous. His light energy needed to be restored, but the world did not seem willing to give him a moment of peace.
He weighed his options. The memory of the feeling of power when he killed the first monster surfaced in his mind. If killing those creatures made him stronger, perhaps this was his best chance of survival.
Making a bold decision, Alkan threw away the torch of light, allowing darkness to envelop him. Immediately, one of the closest monsters growled and lunged forward. Its toothy mouth opened, exhaling foul breath.
With swift movements, Alkan summoned the sword of light again and, in one precise strike, cut the monster in half. Black, viscous blood splattered onto the ground, evaporating at the touch of the blade. Wasting no time, he transformed the sword back into a torch, saving his light energy.
The effect was immediate. Alkan felt his body revitalized, his strength returning and his light energy replenishing. He looked at the other monsters, who remained paralyzed in fear.
Something inside him burned with an unexpected intensity. It wasn't just the need to survive. With each blow, with each monstrous life extinguished, he felt a growing satisfaction.
His eyes fixed on the hesitant creatures, he didn't just want to survive. He wanted to hunt them. Maybe, deep down, he actually enjoyed it.