Chapter 7: Descent into Madness

But I'm still *hungry*.

It's not just hunger, though. It's something deeper, something primal. It's a gnawing emptiness that grows stronger the more I consume. No matter how much I eat, how much blood I spill, it never fills the hollow space inside me.

I wipe the blood from my mouth with the back of my hand, but it only smears across my face, mixing with the grime already there. My breath comes in ragged gasps, the air thick with the metallic stench of blood and death.

The room falls silent again, except for the faint hum of the machines surrounding me. Their blinking lights seem to pulse in time with the beating of my heart, a constant, steady rhythm that keeps me grounded in the madness.

I glance down at the creature's remains, barely recognizable now—just a pile of blood and shredded flesh. I don't feel guilty. There's no room for that. No room for *anything*, really. I need to survive. I need to keep going.

The vent I crawled through is behind me, and ahead, the room stretches out into darkness. I take a few tentative steps forward, my feet slick with the creature's blood, but the hunger—no, the *emptiness*—drives me onward. There's no turning back.

The machines around me hiss softly, their strange, alien forms glowing faintly in the darkness. I don't understand what they are. I don't care. They're just obstacles, things in the way. My thoughts are still a fog, disjointed and unclear, and there's no memory of what these machines are or why I'm here.

But one thing is clear. I have to get out of this place.

My legs feel steadier now, the weakness that clung to them earlier slowly fading away. Each step feels more certain, more *alive*. It's like every creature I consume strengthens me, makes me more than I was. It doesn't make sense, but nothing about this place does.

I move through the room, my eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of movement. The air feels thick, like something is watching me, lurking just out of sight. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, a low, simmering tension running through me.

I pause for a moment, listening—there's something here. The softest shift in the air, the barest hint of movement, like a breath that's almost too quiet to hear. My fingers tighten instinctively. Whatever is here, it's not friendly.

There's another door up ahead, half-hidden by the looming machines. I don't hesitate. I push it open and step through, into another corridor.

The walls here are the same—cold, metallic, dripping with moisture. Pipes run along the ceiling, gurgling with some unknown liquid, and the faint smell of rot still hangs in the air, clinging to everything. It's a maze, an endless labyrinth of twisting hallways and dead ends, each one identical to the last.

My footsteps echo in the silence as I move forward, the sound bouncing off the walls in a way that makes it feel like I'm not alone. I'm not sure if that's comforting or terrifying. The echo makes it impossible to know if I'm being followed, or if it's just my own madness playing tricks on me.

As I move deeper into the labyrinth, the hunger starts to rise again. It's always there, lurking just beneath the surface, waiting to consume me. I can feel it gnawing at me, a constant reminder that I need more. More food. More strength. More *everything*.

The walls close in around me, and I quicken my pace, desperation rising in my chest. I stumble through another doorway and find myself in a smaller room, cramped and dimly lit. There's something here—another creature.

It's smaller than the ones I've seen before, hunched over in the corner, its body covered in dark, scaly skin that shines in the faint light. It doesn't see me yet.

My breath catches in my throat. I move silently, my breath shallow, my body coiled tight with anticipation. The hunger sharpens, the emptiness growing more intense as I creep closer. I can already feel the strength this thing will give me, the surge of power that will fill my veins when I tear it apart.

My eyes lock onto its misshapen form. Its body twitches, its back hunched and covered in spines that bristle with every movement. It's feasting on something—another monster, maybe. Its jaws work mechanically, ripping flesh from bone in gruesome, wet bites.

I pick up a heavy piece of metal from the floor, its weight comforting in my hands. My fingers tighten around it as I close the distance between us. The creature shifts slightly, but it still hasn't noticed me.

I raise the metal bar high above my head, my muscles tensing with the effort. The creature lets out a low, guttural growl, but before it can react, I bring the bar down with all the strength I can muster.

The impact is brutal. The metal connects with a sickening *crunch*, sinking into the back of its head. It lets out a high-pitched screech as the force of the blow drives it into the ground, blood splattering across the walls in thick, black arcs.

But it's not dead yet.

The creature thrashes, its body convulsing as it tries to stand. I don't give it a chance. I bring the bar down again, and again, each strike sending another wave of blood splattering across the floor. My breath comes in short, ragged gasps, but I don't stop. I *can't* stop.

The creature lets out one final, pitiful whimper before its body goes still.

I stand over its corpse, the metal bar still gripped tightly in my hands. My chest heaves with exertion, but I barely notice the ache in my muscles, the strain in my lungs. All I can focus on is the hunger, the emptiness that still gnaws at my insides.

I drop the bar and fall to my knees, my hands trembling as I tear into the creature with my bare hands. The taste is still disgusting, still foul, but it doesn't matter. I rip and tear, devouring the flesh, feeling the strength flood my body once again.

My teeth sink into its scaly flesh, the taste of blood filling my mouth. It's revolting—like biting into something rotten and decayed—but the hunger drives me on. With every bite, I feel a surge of energy, a warmth spreading through my veins. The creature's power becomes my own.

When it's over, I wipe the blood from my mouth and stand, my chest heaving with exertion.

Stronger.

But the hunger is still there, lurking, waiting. Always waiting.

I push open another door and stumble into the next corridor, the faint hum of machines following me. The labyrinth stretches on endlessly, and I wonder if I'll ever find a way out. But I can't stop. I won't stop.

There's something ahead. Something more.

And I need to find it.