The Monster Part 2

Minho had stood over the now-fading sigil as its faint glow retreated into the cracked earth-like embers dying in a fire.

The forest has gone eerily silent, as if holding its breath, but was heavy with the oppression of the presence of the Tower. The air here was heavy and thick with ash and an acidic bite that nipped at his lungs.

He cleaned his blade off against his sleeve, and the ichor of the twisted creature clung to its edge obstinately. Seared into his mind was the image of Jiwoo—or what was left of her—her words echoing in his mind.

*"Does that make what you did any less real?"

*He chased the thought away. There simply wasn't room for ghosts—not even ones he couldn't avoid—here.

The faint hum of energy still emanated from the sigil, calling to him. It wasn't just a mark—it was a door, a thread connecting this cursed forest to the deeper veins of the Tower. Minho could feel it, pulling at him like the tide. He hesitated, the weight of his dagger strangely comforting. "Only one way forward," he muttered and placed his hand over the sigil.

The world convulsed.Heat exploded beneath his palm, racing up his arm and into his chest like fire coursing through his veins. He barely had time to gasp before the forest around him dissolved into a blur of light and shadow. His stomach lurched as the ground vanished beneath his feet, and for one heart-stopping moment, he felt as though he were falling into an abyss.

Then, with a bone-jarring thud, he landed. Minho staggered to his feet, his breath coming in ragged gasps as the world sharpened around him.The forest was gone.

In its place stretched a barren wasteland of ash and stone, the ground split by veins of glowing crimson light that pulsed like the heartbeat of some vast, unseen beast.

The air was cold now, yet it bore the sharp tang of sulfur and rot. A low, rhythmic *thrum* vibrated through the ground beneath his boots, steady and unrelenting. Ahead, a wasteland stretched toward a great black monolith, its jagged spires piercing a sky the color of fresh blood. Shifting a little as he watched, the surface writhed like a living thing. Minho's heart pounded. This wasn't some natural place—it was the Tower itself, or at least a fragment of its twisted reality.

He stepped forward, and then again. The earth cracked and hissed beneath his boots, sending up wisps of smoke with every step. Shadows darted at the edges of his vision, flicking between jagged rocks and crumbling ruins that studded the landscape.The whispers returned louder now.

The words curled round him like mist, just beyond his grasp, their tones switching between mockery and despair. His jaw clenched tight as he dared not let these sink into his mind.'*You cannot get away from yourself, Minho,*' hissed one voice in a low poison.He did not notice the Tower, the *thrum* growing loud in his ears as he listened to it as a heartbeat sounded in his chest. Over the rise of broken earth, he crested to freeze.A gigantic shape stood before him, its outline sharp against the pulsing veins of the earth.

It was hunched and unnatural, a monstrous amalgam of insect and stone. Obsidian plates covered its segmented body, and long, spindly limbs ended in jagged claws that scraped at the earth as it moved. Its head was eyeless, dominated by a gaping maw that split open in a sickening spiral of jagged teeth.

The creature hadn't seen him yet, its bulk moving slowly as it prowled the wasteland. Minho crouched low, his breath shallow. He'd seen many of the Tower's creations before, but this thing was different—larger, more deliberate. It wasn't a mistake born of madness; it was a predator.

He clutched his dagger tightly, his mind racing.

He could try to avoid it, but the creature stood between him and the Tower. Worse, the ground here was treacherous, every step sending faint cracks through the ash.The creature paused, its head tilting as if listening. Then, with a sudden burst of speed, it lunged.Minho hardly had time to react. He rolled to the side as the huge claws slammed into the ground, chipping stone and ash off everywhere.

The earth shook under his feet as if the force was going to toss him off balance.The creature's maw split wide, letting out a deafening screech that reverberated through the air like shattering glass.

Minho winced, the sound cutting through him like a blade. The creature lunged again, and this time he countered, darting beneath its bulk and slashing at one of its limbs.

His blade found purchase, cutting through the joint with a sickening crunch. Black ichor sprayed from the wound, sizzling as it hit the ground.

The creature howled, rearing back, but its movements were unnervingly fast for something so massive.Minho ducked as one of its claws slashed overhead, then darted forward, aiming for the softer flesh beneath its armored plates. His dagger struck true, sinking deep into the exposed muscle. The creature thrashed violently, its tendrils whipping through the air and striking him across the chest.

The blow sent him sprawling, his back slamming into the ground. Pain flared through his ribs, but he forced himself to roll to his feet, his dagger still clenched tightly in his hand.It loomed over him, its maw opening impossibly wide as it let out another screech.

The sound was a physical force, leaning upon him, but he powered through the pain and launched himself forward, driving his blade into its throat.It convulsed, limbs flailing every which way, when one of the tendrils wrapped round his leg and brought him to his knee, though he didn't let go of the dagger, twisting it deeper in the creature's flesh. And with one last, gurgling roar, the creature collapsed, its body twisting once and lying still, dark ichor seeping from underneath.Minho staggered to his feet, his chest heaving. His entire body ached, and the stench of the creature's blood clung to him, acrid and metallic. A blue mysterious portal appeared in front of him, that will lead him to the next floor.

Minho wiped his blade on his sleeve and took a step forward. The path ahead was treacherous, but he had no choice.the whispers grew louder, their words blending into a single, haunting chorus. *"You are ours, Minho."

He didn't answer.