Chapter 11: Feeding the Void

Eventually, the sound of the elves and orcs fades, their shouts growing distant as I crawl deeper into the vent. The metal is cold and slick beneath my hands, every movement sending waves of pain through my body, but I don't stop. I can't. The farther I get, the safer I'll be—at least for now.

I finally collapse, my body shaking with exhaustion, my breath coming in ragged gasps. The darkness in the vent is suffocating, but it's safe. Safer than out there, where they're still hunting me. My hands are trembling, covered in blood—my own blood this time. The wound in my shoulder is still bleeding, the bullet lodged deep in the muscle.

I grit my teeth, pressing a hand to the wound, trying to stop the bleeding, but the pain is overwhelming. It flares white-hot, making my vision blur, and for a moment, I think I might black out. My head swims with dizziness, the walls of the vent seeming to close in around me, but I force myself to stay conscious. I can't afford to lose focus now.

I let out a low groan, curling up against the side of the vent. My body feels like it's been through hell. The axe blow to my ribs, the orc's punch to my jaw, the bullet in my shoulder—it all adds up, piling on top of the hunger that never leaves me. It's a constant, gnawing pain that twists my insides, making it impossible to think of anything but survival.

But worse than the physical pain is the growing *desperation*. I've been pushed into hiding, beaten, and left with no strength to fight back. The rush of adrenaline is fading, and now, all I'm left with is the cold, stark reality that I might not make it out of this place.

My wounds are healing—slowly—but not fast enough. Not this time.

The hunger gnaws at me, more insistent than ever. I can feel my strength draining away, my muscles weakening, my vision darkening. The brief surge of power I felt after killing the humans is long gone, replaced by an all-encompassing emptiness that feels like it's consuming me from the inside out.

*I need to eat*.

If I don't, I'll die here. Alone in the darkness, like the other creatures I've killed. Forgotten.

The thought sends a wave of panic through me, my heart pounding in my chest. I try to push myself to my feet, but my body refuses to cooperate. My limbs feel heavy, sluggish, like they're weighed down by invisible chains. Every movement sends a jolt of pain through my shoulder, and I can feel the blood still oozing from the wound, slow but steady.

I have to keep going. I have to *survive*.

But my strength is fading, faster than I expected. The healing process is slowing down, and I can't seem to shake the feeling that I'm running out of time. If I don't find something to eat soon, I'll collapse. I'll die.

I can't let that happen. I've come too far to give up now.

I glance around the vent, searching for something—*anything*—that might help me. But it's empty. Just cold metal and darkness. There's no food here, no creatures to hunt, no blood to drink. Just me and the hunger, growing stronger with every passing second.

My hands clench into fists, my nails digging into my palms. The pain helps me focus, helps me stay awake. I can't afford to lose consciousness now. Not when I'm so close.

*There has to be a way out*.

I force myself to crawl deeper into the vent, every movement sending a fresh wave of pain through my body. My muscles tremble with the effort, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps, but I don't stop. I can't.

As I crawl, I feel the walls of the vent pressing in on me, the darkness growing thicker, more oppressive. The air is stifling, thick with the stench of sweat and blood. My vision blurs, the edges of the world flickering with dark spots that dance in front of my eyes.

I don't know how long I crawl—minutes, hours, it all blurs together. Time doesn't matter in this place. All that matters is the hunger, the need to feed, to survive. My body moves on autopilot, my hands scraping against the rough metal of the vent, my knees bruised and bleeding from the constant pressure.

And then, finally, I see it—a faint light, shining through a small opening at the end of the vent.

*An exit*.

I push myself forward, my heart racing with a mix of hope and desperation. My hands tremble as I reach the opening, my fingers gripping the edge of the vent as I pull myself out.

I collapse onto the cold, hard floor, my body shaking with exhaustion. The light in this new room is dim, but compared to the suffocating darkness of the vent, it feels blinding. I shield my eyes with my hand, taking in the surroundings.

It's another room—another part of the labyrinth. But this one is different. The walls are lined with strange, glass chambers, each one filled with a thick, green liquid. And inside those chambers... are creatures.

I don't recognize them. They're not like the monsters I've fought before. These are... *different*. Their bodies are twisted, misshapen, as if they've been fused together from different parts of different species. Their skin is pale, almost translucent, and their eyes are closed, as if they're sleeping.

But I know better.

They're alive. Barely.

And they're trapped here, just like me.

My stomach growls, the hunger surging inside me with renewed intensity. My body is screaming at me to eat, to devour something—*anything*—before it's too late. My hands tremble as I push myself to my feet, my legs weak beneath me.

I glance around the room, searching for a way to open the chambers. The glass is thick, reinforced with metal bars, but I can see the faint outline of a control panel on the far wall. My breath catches in my throat as I stumble toward it, my vision blurring with every step.

I don't know what these creatures are. I don't care.

I just need to feed.

I reach the control panel, my fingers fumbling over the buttons. The symbols are foreign, incomprehensible, but I press them anyway, driven by instinct, by *desperation*.

A low hum fills the room, followed by the sound of hissing air as the glass chambers begin to open. The green liquid drains from the chambers, and the creatures inside stir, their bodies twitching as they wake from their slumber.

I don't hesitate.

I lunge at the nearest one, my hands wrapping around its neck as I slam it to the ground. Its eyes snap open, wide and terrified, but I don't care. I tear into its flesh, my teeth sinking into its pale skin, and the taste of blood fills my mouth once again.

It's not like the humans. It's not as sweet, not as rich. But it doesn't matter. It's food. It's blood. And that's all I need right now.

The creature lets out a gurgling scream as I tear it apart, ripping chunks of flesh from its body, devouring it piece by piece. My muscles tremble with the effort, but I can feel the strength returning to me, the pain in my shoulder dulling as my body begins to heal.

I move to the next creature, and the next, devouring them all with the same ferocity. The hunger is still there, always there, but it's more manageable now. The emptiness inside me is still gnawing at my insides, but the food helps, even if just for a moment.

By the time I'm finished, the room is silent once again. The creatures are dead, their bodies torn apart, and I'm standing in the middle of the carnage, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

I wipe the blood from my mouth, my hands shaking with exhaustion. My body feels stronger, but the hunger is still there, lurking beneath the surface, waiting for the next meal.

But for now, I can move. I can *survive*.

I turn toward the far wall, where the door to the next corridor waits. My legs are steady again, my wounds slowly healing, the bullet in my shoulder working its way out of the flesh. The pain is fading, replaced by a dull ache that I can ignore.

I have to keep moving. I have to find a way out of this place.

But as I reach for the door, I hear something—a faint clicking sound, coming from the vent I crawled through.

They're still hunting me.

The elves, the orcs—they're not giving up. And they're getting closer.

I grit my teeth, my hands clenching into fists. I can't afford to fight them again. Not in my current state. But I can't stay here, either. They'll find me. They always do.

*I have to keep moving*.

With one last glance at the vent, I push open the door and step into the next corridor, my body tense, my senses on high alert.

The labyrinth stretches on before me, endless and unforgiving.

But I can't stop. I won't stop.

Because I'm still *hungry*.