Relic’s Carnage

Near Buck, the Prism of Sin glowed with a malevolent red aura, growing in intensity as it touched the lamb's flesh. The air around it felt heavy, saturated with a dense and unsettling energy.

The body, once connected to the relic, began to wither at an alarming rate. It was like watching a stream vanish into a desert, the flesh disappearing until only traces of an ephemeral existence remained. The prism not only drained the power residing in the corpse but also fed slowly on Buck's vitality and his stash of meat.

His right hand, clutching the relic, suffered the worst effects. The skin turned waxy pale, with bluish veins grotesquely bulging beneath the surface. Each second holding the object brought him closer to something irreversible.

[Sync with the 'Prism of Fear' complete.]

The dead creature's body, along with the remains of the meat stored in Buck's backpack, began dissolving into a thin, grayish-orange substance. The liquid seeped between the grains of sand as if the earth were eager to absorb it, while Buck's horns were freed from their makeshift prison.

Ahead of him, chaos reached epic proportions. The battle between the turtle and the abyss ants turned the ground into a field of destruction. Blood and acid mixed, creating a scene of carnage where neither side seemed willing to retreat.

Buck knew this was his chance. With the relic in hand, he stood, trembling but resolute. Staying there meant certain death, and facing the creatures directly wasn't even an option. He was no fighter. He had no training, no proper weapons, and not nearly enough courage to face those creatures head-on.

He had only one choice: to flee.

Running in the opposite direction of the conflict, Buck tried to stay out of sight. His mind raced with frantic thoughts as he assessed his chances of escape. The cloak covering him was in tatters, stained with blood and sand. His backpack, now empty, was almost dead weight, but he still clung to it instinctively.

The prism, which had earlier radiated palpable menace, now seemed silent. But Buck knew that wasn't a sign of safety—just a pause before the next disaster.

Then he heard the sound he dreaded most. A crunch in the sand, followed by a faint, eerie hiss. Glancing back, he saw two gigantic ants charging toward him. The earlier battle had held their attention, but now the scent of fresh blood and Buck's movement made him an easy target.

He could barely fathom how the turtle had managed to face those creatures with such ease. Their exoskeletons glinted under the faint light of the abyss, impenetrable like polished black metal.

Why does life love rubbing my bad luck in my face?

Buck thought bitterly, his feet sinking into the sand with every desperate step.

His hands gripped the prism tightly. Perhaps it could offer some advantage, some hidden power to help him survive. He racked his frantic memories for anything—anything—that could be done with the relic.

[Prism of Fear] – When fed with Stardust, the relic can convert it into a terrifying aura.

What? That's it?

The revelation hit him like a blow. All the malign power he thought resided in the relic seemed to be nothing more than a fear manipulation trick. A cheap ploy.

A scream of frustration welled up inside him, but he held it back. Making noise would only invite more creatures to hunt him. Yet his desperation needed an outlet, and the prism was the only one available.

He raised it, a glint of defiance in his eyes, channeling all his energy into the relic.

[Prism of Fear activated its ability: 'Fear'.]

A burst of red light consumed the surroundings, spreading like a wave of terror. The aura was thick, suffocating, like the very touch of death.

The wave of fear was so intense that even Buck felt its effects. His breathing grew erratic, his eyes widened, and panic seeped deep into his mind. He wasn't immune to the relic's power. The fear it emanated seemed to attack his very essence, dragging him into the most terrifying moments of his life.

The weight of the sensation caused him to stumble for a moment, but the creatures chasing him weren't immune either. The ants hesitated, their mandibles opening and closing erratically as their bodies trembled. The relic made them reconsider their instinct to hunt.

Buck, however, couldn't afford to stop. Despite the growing dread, he ran, driven by an animalistic energy born of fear and desperation. He knew that if he stopped, he'd be doomed.

But the aura wasn't just a shield against his pursuers. It was a mirror of Buck's own terror, amplifying his deepest fears. He felt as if he were back in Captain's clutches, thrashing helplessly against capture. His entire body shook, and his already exhausted mind nearly gave in to the urge to give up.

Then he made a fatal mistake. Driven by instinct, he looked back.

The ants, once slow and hesitant, began moving again—not with the confidence of predators, but with the determination of cornered creatures. Their multifaceted eyes gleamed dully, reflecting both the relic's light and the abyss's darkness.

Buck tried to regain control. He stashed the chromatic prism at his waist, his trembling fingers adjusting it to keep it secure inside his cloak. Armed only with the sharp tooth he'd saved earlier, he prepared for the inevitable confrontation.

The first ant lunged, but Buck was faster. He leaped to the side, dodging the attack, and drove the tooth straight into one of the insect's eyes. The impact was followed by a grotesque squelch as yellowish fluid oozed from the wound.

The ant's body convulsed violently before collapsing, its legs folding in spasms.

[You have slain a Lesser Black Ant.]

[The Stardust dances around you.]

The brief relief was quickly replaced by a new wave of panic. The second ant wasted no time. In a split second, it sprayed a jet of acid directly at Buck.

The corrosive liquid struck Buck's cloak, burning through not only the leather but also pieces of poorly cut flesh he had left behind. The acid seared his skin, causing an intense, unbearable pain. A scream caught in his throat as he dropped the tooth.

The pain forced him to stop, but the fear still drove him forward. He had to survive.

Ignoring the acid burning his left hand, Buck made a desperate leap, landing on the creature's dorsal carapace. His hands gripped the ant's thin antennae with all the strength he had left, yanking them fiercely.

The antennae tore off with a nauseating sound, and the ant's body spasmed uncontrollably. It ran in frantic circles, lashing out at the air and biting at anything in its path, including its fallen companion's corpse.

But Buck knew time was running out. His vision began to blur, and his lungs burned. The prism's aura slowly faded, leaving the environment quieter but no less dangerous.

He scanned his surroundings for an escape route. The battlefield behind him was almost entirely decimated. The turtle's shell lay abandoned, scratched and empty, while the remaining ants reorganized, searching for new targets.

And he was next.

Buck ran again, every step weighted with exhaustion. His left arm burned from the acid's damage, but he couldn't stop. The desperation in his chest overpowered any physical pain.

The landscape around him, marked by red sand and trails of carnage, seemed endless. Every shadow, every movement on the horizon, made his heart race. The idea of escape felt as fragile as he was.

He knew he didn't have much time left. The weight of fatigue finally began to take over, and the adrenaline masking his pain and fear was fading. He needed to find shelter or a place to hide.

In the distance, he spotted a small rocky formation that stood out against the flat terrain, half-buried in the sand. The stones rose, their cracks and crevices offering a potential temporary refuge. It was his only chance.

With the last of his strength, Buck headed for the rocky outcrop. He stumbled and nearly fell several times, but he kept going, driven by pure survival instinct.

Behind him, the surviving ants began to scatter—some returning to the turtle's remains, others drawn by distant noises, burrowing back into the sand. The relief this brought was small, as Buck knew the abyss never granted reprieve for long.

Reaching the rocks, he found a narrow gap between two stones. Without hesitation, he squeezed through, ignoring the pain of scratches on his hands and arms as he forced his way inside. On the other side, he discovered a small cavity, just large enough for him to curl up and catch his breath.

There, shielded by the darkness of the crevice, he finally stopped. His breathing was heavy, and the silence was almost deafening after the chaos he had left behind. He looked at his left hand, where the acid had left deep scars. The flesh was red and swollen, and every movement brought searing pain.

His gaze fell to the prism, now tucked into his waist beneath the cloak. The small object glowed faintly through the leather, as if mocking him.

You almost killed me…

he murmured, his voice a weak whisper.

But he knew that, as much as he hated the relic, it had saved his life. Without the prism's power, he wouldn't have been able to fend off the ants or survive the chaos he had faced.

Exhaustion finally overtook him. His eyes began to close, and his once-tormented mind surrendered to involuntary sleep. Yet even as he drifted off, fear lingered in his chest, a constant shadow.

In the quiet of the small cave, Buck dreamed of stars. Lines of light sparkled in a black sky, forming patterns he couldn't comprehend, floating above a garden frozen in time. It was a glimpse of something greater, something beyond the abyss.

But the stars were fleeting, disappearing as quickly as they had come. When he awoke, he knew he'd still be in the heart of the abyss, surrounded by unimaginable dangers.

Still, as sleep embraced him, a small spark of hope flickered within. He was still alive.

And in the abyss, that was enough.