The Price of Escape

The chamber trembled, the echoes of the Vendigo's screech lingering in the air like the remnants of a nightmare. The oppressive darkness had retreated momentarily, but the battle was far from over.

And then—

The Vendigo returned.

One moment, the chamber was eerily silent. The next, the shadows writhed and coalesced, birthing its form once more.

Viole barely had time to react before the darkness lunged. Tendrils shot out like spears, wrapping around his arms, his legs, his throat—cold as death, unyielding as steel. His katana slipped from his grasp, the weight of the Vendigo's power pressing down on him like a crushing tide.

His breath hitched.

Noctis flared inside him, screaming for release, but even his power—his hunger—couldn't break free.

The Vendigo stepped closer, its shifting form stabilizing as it loomed over him.

"Did you truly believe you could escape me?"

The voice wasn't just sound—it was a whisper inside his mind, slipping through the cracks of his consciousness like black ink spilling through water.

"You wield the blood of monsters, yet refuse to embrace it."

Viole's teeth clenched.

"You believe yourself beyond the Hunger. Beyond the Void."

The Vendigo's form flickered—too many eyes, too many mouths, an endless abyss shaped into something almost humanoid. Its gaze bored into him, stripping him bare.

"But you are not beyond it, little swordsman."

It leaned closer, and for the first time, Viole felt it—true hunger. Not his own, not Noctis, but something deeper, more ancient.

A void that would never be filled.

His vision blurred.

He was sinking—no, being pulled—into it.

His mind reeled, his heart pounded. The darkness wasn't just a power; it was a force, a weight pressing against his very existence. He wasn't fighting an enemy.

He was fighting nothingness itself.

And he was losing.

Then—

A hand on his shoulder.

Reality snapped back into focus.

Ha-eun.

She had grabbed him, her grip firm, grounding him. "Stay with me," she said, voice low but urgent.

Viole's breath came in ragged gasps, but the moment of clarity was enough.

He clenched his fists.

Noctis surged inside him, and this time—this time, it responded.

Not just as a weapon.

But as a part of him.

Viole exhaled, his vision sharpening. He looked up at the Vendigo, and this time, he didn't feel small.

He felt defiant.

"You talk too much," he muttered.

The Vendigo tilted its head slightly. "And yet, you listen."

A flick of its hand.

The shadows tightened.

Pain lanced through Viole's body as the tendrils constricted, threatening to crush him where he stood. His muscles screamed, his vision dimmed, but he gritted his teeth.

Not like this.

Not again.

Then—

BOOM.

A colossal force struck the Vendigo, shattering the shadows binding Viole. He gasped as the crushing weight vanished, stumbling back.

And then he saw him.

The Guardian.

It had risen.

The ancient protector, its massive stone body cracked and burning with molten energy, stood between them and certain death. Golden lines pulsed across its form like veins of fire, and its towering presence seemed to push back the Vendigo's very existence.

"No," Azael said sharply, stepping forward. "You cannot—"

"It is already done." The Guardian's voice was deep, steady, and final.

Its gaze met Viole's. Even with no face, no expression, Viole felt the weight of its intent.

"Go."

Viole's hands clenched into fists. "We can still fight—"

"GO."

The Vendigo hissed, already reforming, already striking. But the Guardian moved first.

Its massive stone fist slammed into the ground, and the entire chamber shifted. The stone beneath them cracked, not in collapse, but in controlled movement.

A path.

An escape.

"You dare defy me?" the Vendigo snarled, its darkness spiraling into madness.

"I was made to protect." The Guardian's molten eyes burned. "And I will fulfill that purpose."

It lunged.

Not to flee.

To fight.

Viole's instincts screamed at him to stay, to fight alongside the Guardian. But he knew.

This wasn't a battle they could win.

"Move!" Ha-eun grabbed his arm, yanking him toward the opening.

Kairos had already leapt through, followed by Azael. Viole hesitated for only a second longer—then he turned, shoving down his fury, and ran.

The last thing he saw before the passage sealed behind them—

Was the Guardian standing tall.

And the Vendigo's darkness consuming it whole.

---

THE AFTERMATH

They landed hard in a collapsed ruin, coughing as dust swirled around them. The chamber was gone. The fight was over.

And they had lost.

For a long moment, no one spoke. The weight of what had just happened pressed down on all of them.

Viole exhaled slowly. His body ached, his power still pulsing inside him, but something was different now.

The Vendigo's words haunted him.

"You wield the blood of monsters, yet refuse to embrace it."

"You believe yourself beyond the Hunger."

Noctis had always been a tool—a power he used, a weapon at his disposal. But for the first time, he realized something unsettling.

It wasn't just a weapon.

It was part of him.

And he barely understood it.

Kairos broke the silence first. "Okay, so. That sucked." He let out a heavy breath, rubbing his face. "Like, a lot."

Ha-eun didn't respond. She just wiped the blood from her blade, her expression unreadable.

Azael stood apart from them, their cloak still shimmering faintly. "The Guardian made its choice," they said, their voice devoid of emotion. "It was not in vain."

Viole clenched his jaw.

Wasn't it?

They were still alive. But at what cost?

He looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers. The blood of monsters ran through his veins. A power stronger than anything he had ever known.

And the Vendigo had made one thing clear.

He wasn't strong enough.

Not yet.

But he would be.

Viole exhaled sharply and rose to his feet. His body screamed in protest, his wounds still raw, but he ignored it. He turned to the others, his eyes burning with something new.

Not just anger.

Not just determination.

Resolve.

"We are not done."

Kairos raised a brow. "Oh? You got a secret plan to make us strong enough to punch that thing in the face?"

Viole's grip tightened around his sword. It was still whole, still intact—but for how long?

No. He couldn't rely on just this.

The Vendigo had challenged him.

It had mocked him.

And Viole had no intention of running forever.

"We will become stronger," he said, voice unwavering. "And when we face it again—"

He looked up, his crimson eyes burning in the darkness.

"We won't lose."*

The night stretched on, the echoes of the Guardian's sacrifice still fresh in their minds.

And somewhere, deep in the abyss, the Vendigo watched.

Waiting.

Hungry.