Pain.

  Crushing, suffocating pain. It swallowed everything.

  James lay sprawled on the cracked concrete, his body barely responding, his mind screaming at him to move. Every breath was a struggle—ragged gasps through bruised ribs and aching lungs. Blood trickled down his face, stinging his eyes, blurring his vision. Every inch of him throbbed from being slammed through the floor.

  And before him, towering like a nightmare made flesh, stood the beast.

  Its massive frame heaved with each breath, the air around it thick with the stench of blood. But it wasn’t just its grotesque form that sent a chill through James—it was the Crimson Brand etched into its chest. The mark, shaped like a shattered sun, pulsed with an eerie glow, radiating something beyond sight, beyond comprehension. He felt it watching him. Studying him. Mocking him.

  The battle had begun with hope. Now, only despair remained.

  It could end him at any moment. And yet, it didn't.

  Instead, it watched. Its glowing eyes glimmered with cruel amusement.

  James forced himself to his feet—a broken warrior grasping at the last embers of defiance. His legs trembled, his vision swam, but he lifted his sword. The blade—half-shattered, barely more than scrap metal—felt heavier than ever.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  "Why?"

  The word escaped in a whisper, carried by the wind thick with the scent of death. His grip on the hilt tightened, knuckles turning white.

  "Why am I the last one left?" His voice cracked. "Why are you taking those I swore to protect? Are you—" his breath hitched, raw emotion bleeding into his words, "Are you mocking my resolve?!"

  The beast tilted its head, as if contemplating his words. Then, slowly, it smirked.

  James’ stomach twisted.

  It had played with them. It had dangled victory before their eyes—only to rip it away. One by one, his friends had fallen. Their screams still echoed in his mind.

  And now...

  He was alone.

  A deep, guttural chuckle rumbled from the creature’s throat as it stepped forward. Blood dripped from its claws, spattering against the ruined floor. The sound was deafening in the silence.

  James clenched his sword, his hands shaking. Not out of courage, but because he knew—he couldn’t run.

  He was too weak. Too weak to fight. Too weak to protect them.

  And now, too weak to survive.

  The monster loomed over him, its hulking form casting a shadow that swallowed what little hope remained. It wanted him to understand. To feel the weight of his failure. To drown in it.

  Its claws rose.

  James exhaled.

  This is it.

  He could see it—the exact moment his life would be snuffed out.

  A sharp gust of wind howled through the ruins, carrying the scent of death. Time slowed. His heartbeat was a distant echo in his ears. The monster’s claws came down, slicing through the air—

  And then—

  BOOM.

  A shockwave erupted.

  James' body seized, his muscles igniting in searing pain as something deep within him shattered. Power surged through his veins—wild, untamed, unstoppable. The world around him trembled. The cracked ground beneath him splintered further.

  And for the first time…

  The beast took a step back.