PROTOCOL CHAOSBORN

The thirteen meter tall wolves swung their massive paws down to crush Robert, who remained frozen in place, paralyzed by the sheer overwhelming sensation that radiated from the summoned wolves. He had felt cold from the portal before, an unnatural, otherworldly chill that clawed at his bones. But this—this was something else. It felt like it was a thousand times colder. The cold was no longer just physical sensation; it seeped into his very soul, gnawing at his existence like an insidious parasite. It was not just cold—it felt—was the death of warmth, heat, the death of life itself. 

The longer the wolves stayed, the more the environment changed. The transformation was both beautiful and terrifying. Trees that stood for centuries disintegrated to fine ashes for several kilometers, scattered by an unseen wind that whispered of oblivion. The molten lava that had bubbled and raged beneath their feet slowly turned to frozen ground. The ground beneath them, once solid and sure, fractured like brittle glass, every step taken threatening to shatter it completely. Rocks, boulders, and anything that was within their vicinity was encased in an ethereal green solid ice before they too succumbed to the same fate—turning to dust and following the wind in a long journey.

Yet, none of that was what shocked and petrified both Robert and Mark the most. It was not the destruction, nor the unnatural transformation of the landscape. It was the green aura that pulsed from the wolves, shifting and writhing like a living thing, whispering of death made manifest.

As Robert and Mark were one at this moment, Mark's ability—ENERGY EYE—was activated for both, revealing the spiritual side of everything around them. What they saw was beyond comprehension, beyond horror. It was death—not just death, but every death. Every possible, conceivable, and inevitable end that awaited all creatures, all beings, all things. It was as if the universe itself had pulled back its veil, revealing the countless threads of fate, each one leading to annihilation. They saw the deaths of humans, of beasts, of things beyond mortal understanding. They saw their own deaths. Robert's fate played before him in a maddening loop—one where he died here and now, crushed beneath those colossal paws. Another where he perished in a war, drowned in blood and fire. Another where Mark was doused in an unknown liquid, his form dissolving into nothingness. And then there were the others—the ones so horrific that Robert's body could not handle them.

The flames that once burned upon Robert's body wavered, receding like a dying ember. The inferno that had once been his strength was now flickering, nearly extinguished as their wills were consumed by the vision of death before them. His eyes, once fiery and bright, returned to a more human-like state—yet they did not return to their original brown hue. They remained a deep, fiery red, as if the flames still smoldered somewhere deep inside of him, struggling to hold on.

Their visions blurred, their heads spinning from the overwhelming flood of information and terror. Blood streamed from Robert's eyes, and Mark, though lacking eyes of his own, perceived a similar sensation—his vision was painted red, an unending tide of crimson distorting reality itself. They were losing consciousness. Drowning in death.

Then the paw came down.

The swing of the wolves had so much force, it did not merely strike Robert: it up heaved the very ground where Robert was standing on was lifted and tossed with him and a chunk of frozen earth hurling through the air, as blood leaked from every hole in his body. He felt himself breaking. Bones snapped like brittle twigs beneath the weight of the blow. His body twisted, unnatural and grotesque, as he crashed against the ground, skidding across the frozen wasteland that had once been a battlefield of fire. Blood poured from every wound, from every orifice. His limbs—twisted, broken—betrayed him. The pain was unbearable, yet his mind was too clouded to even fully register it. He was a dead man walking, a broken puppet dangling by the last frayed strands of fate.

Both Mark and Robert were dizzy, their vision blurred and twisted, and colored red, because of the blood leaking out of his eyes. He wiped the blood from his eyes but it couldn't stop it, as it was continuously leaking blood. They faltering. His vision continued to blur and twist, his entire being drowning in the endless sea of crimson that painted his perception.

 Robert coughed, blood bubbling up from within him. He tried to move, but his body refused. He was helpless, a sitting duck waiting for the final blow. Yet, in this moment, faced with inevitable death, he laughed—a ragged, broken sound, filled with both madness and defiance.

"Even after I've sold my soul to a fucking devil," he s[at, blood trailing from his lips, "you still s…somehow managed to s…survive, like a f…fucking cockroach."

 His gaze flickered toward Darius, who knelt in the distance, his own body wracked with pain, blood flowing from his mouth as if he was a broken vessel. Robert's laughter grew louder, more unhinged, "HAHAHAHA!" He could feel the wolves approaching. Their bodies looked less real, less solid, and more illusionary. He understood now.

 "You can't keep them here for long." His voice was hoarse, his words strained, but was filled with malicious glee. 

"The longer they stay here, the weaker you grow. And if you don't send them back soon, you will die. So, all I have to do…" He began to crawl, dragging his broken body away from the wolves, who seemed to enjoy the desperate attempt of Robert to getaway from them, like a cat with its mouse. "…is make sure you don't send them back and we both die. And if you send them back in time, I get to kill you with my own hands, HAHAHAHHA!" his laughter grew even more unhinged if it was possible, imaging his hands around Darius's neck, squeezing it slowly, seeing as his eyes grew dimmer. His life leaving, the desperate plea he would hear, that would be a music to his ears. Oh..what a beautiful dream, but a dream nonetheless.

Darius, through blurred vision and labored breath, looked at Robert crawl away from the wolves with sorrow. He had not wanted this. He had been trying to send them back after their first attack. He had only wanted to rid Robert of whatever dark force had latched onto him, to purge the parasite that was latching onto his soul. He had never wanted them to come to this point.

"I'm sorry," said Darius, his voice barely a whisper.

Darius could feel the wolves feeding on him, draining him of every last ounce of astral essence. When he tried to send them back, the more they resisted. They knew how to use his astral essence to stay here longer. And he had a feeling that after they finished with his astral essence, they would go after his soul. He had no time. He had no options. And worst of all, he had no hope.

He wished he had more time to tell Robert about what happened back then. He wished they could go back to being brothers again, but it looks like both of them might die.

Though Robert was lucky enough to not see the wolf's aura, Mark was not. Since his sight was not through an eye but through astral essence and SOURCE ENERGY, his visions didn't change. He was still seeing the death of every being, including his own. Fortunately, he didn't have to experience the deaths he was watching, otherwise he would have gone insane.

Slowly, he was losing consciousness. Deep inside his soul, he sensed it… or perhaps, more accurately, he didn't sense it. His soul was slowly disintegrating, dissolving the longer he stared at the wolves. He was running out of time, and he didn't know how to save himself. He didn't even know what was happening. Mark had seen those auras on creatures or anyone who could use astral essence. Everyone had a unique aura, with different colors and images, but none of those had caused him to feel this way. And none of them had a consequence of watching it. 

If he wasn't preoccupied with the wolves, the redness of his visions might have struck him as weird, since he lacked eyes and blood. He would have questioned why, and he would have noticed the blaring red warning notice that had been popping up ever since the wolves walked into this plane of existence.

[WARNING: HOST MUST FLEE THE AREA IMMEDIATELY!]

[WARNING: IMMINENT DANGER DETECTED]

[WARNING: HOST SURVIVAL ZERO PERCENT]

[INITIATE PROTOCOL CHAOSBORN]

[CHAOSBORN ACTIVATED]