His Motivation

Slowly, the will that had taken over Seven's body began to weaken.

It resisted, pushing back with whatever strength it had left, but it was losing ground. Seven was overwhelming it.

Maybe it was because the will had been left here for centuries, lingering in this place, decaying over time. Maybe it had once been powerful, a force capable of bending others to its command, but now? It was old. Fragile. Dying.

And Seven? He was alive. He was fighting. He was burning.

With every ounce of his will, he crushed down on the foreign presence, suffocating it, burying it under the sheer force of his resistance. He could feel it now, its desperation, its fading strength. It twisted and coiled like a wounded beast, trying to tighten its grip, but it was no longer in control.

Seven was.

His vision blurred for a moment, and then suddenly, his fingers twitched.

His fingers.

His body, his own body, was finally responding to him.

The entity screeched inside his mind, a soundless wail of agony and fury, but Seven didn't care. He had the upper hand now.

And he was going to crush it completely.

"How do you like this, Bastard"

Seven kept pushing, digging deeper into his mind, his will like a raging storm tearing through the shadows. He wasn't just reclaiming his body, he was making that parasite suffer.

The entity thrashed and writhed, clawing desperately for control, but Seven had already seized it in his grasp, like a predator sinking its fangs into dying prey. He could feel its distress, its agony, like an insect squirming under his boot, trying to escape its fate. But there was no escape. No mercy.

This wasn't just a fight for his body.

No, this was everything. His entire life had been leading up to this moment. Every ounce of frustration, every time he had been used, every time he had been powerless—all of it fueled him.

He had motivation.

Motivation to strike back at the world that had never given him a fair chance, that had tossed him aside like trash.

Motivation to take back control, to never again be someone's puppet, to break free from the chains that had bound him for years.

Motivation to be the one in charge, to seize power for himself and carve his own path, no longer bound by rules or expectations.

And most of all, motivation to get back to Rain.

His sister. His only family. The one person who had never abandoned him, who had always been by his side. He couldn't leave her alone. He wouldn't.

Something inside him snapped.

Seven gritted his teeth, pouring everything he had, every ounce of his existence, into one final push. His willpower exploded outward, an unrelenting force, smashing into the parasite like a tidal wave. The foreign presence shrieked, a horrible, ear-piercing wail that resonated inside his skull. The darkness in the corner of his mind shuddered, cracked, and then,

It shattered.

The entity's presence erupted into nothingness, scattering like ash in the wind. A wave of exhaustion hit him, his body trembling from the sheer force of what had just happened. But he didn't care.

He had won.

For the first time in his life, Seven had taken control.

Seven, still trembling with the force of his victory, suddenly regained full control of his body. His mind, once a battleground, cleared as the foreign presence was finally gone. The weight that had been pressing on him lifted, but with it came an overwhelming rush of emotions.

He was furious. His body was his own again, but the anger that had been building for so long, the resentment toward the world that had used him, the frustration at being powerless, at being controlled, flooded him. His heart pounded in his chest, adrenaline coursing through his veins, but it left him disoriented.

The sudden return of control didn't come without a cost. The disorienting force of it all hit him like a tidal wave. His vision swam, his legs buckled under him, and before he could stop himself, he collapsed to the ground. His body hit the cold floor with a harsh thud, face-first, the impact jarring his senses.

It didn't matter. He couldn't even bring himself to care.

He lay there for a moment, chest heaving, trying to process everything. His thoughts felt scattered, as though everything he had just been through was too much for his mind to handle all at once. He wanted to scream, to rage, but for now, all he could do was breathe, his fists clenched tightly as if to hold himself together.

He wasn't sure how long he stayed there.

But one thing was certain: he wasn't going to let anyone control him again.

Seven lay there for what felt like an eternity, though it was likely only seven seconds. Time felt warped in that moment, stretched thin and heavy as the rush of emotions and adrenaline began to settle. His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, his body still tense, as though waiting for something to happen.

But nothing did.

All that remained was exhaustion. The kind that seeped into his bones, making it difficult to think clearly. His mind was utterly drained, a weary fog hanging over him. He didn't have the energy to process the chaos of what had just happened, didn't have the strength to think about anything at all.

Taking a deep breath, Seven forced himself to calm down. His body felt like it was still on fire, but he steadied his breathing, closing his eyes for a brief moment to gather what little strength he had left.

For the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to just be. He didn't push himself, didn't try to analyze or figure anything out. He simply let the stillness take over, his mind too tired to do anything but exist in that moment.

And that was enough.

Then, a voice suddenly echoed in the room.

"Aha haha Bwahahahahahaha ahahahahaha"

Mad laughter rang out, sharp and unhinged. It was Seven's voice, but twisted in a way he couldn't comprehend. He laughed like a madman, his breath ragged, his chest heaving with the intensity of it.

It was victory.

It was madness.

And in that moment, he could feel the weight of both.

**

At that moment, Seven's hand instinctively shot to his pocket, his fingers brushing against something that felt unnervingly warm. He froze, a cold realization washing over him, the crystal ball. He had forgotten about it, buried in his pocket by the very entity that had controlled him moments before.

It wasn't this hot before.

The heat coming from the ball was unlike anything he had felt before, unnatural, almost like it was alive. His heart began to race again as he pulled the crystal from his pocket, the glow from within it almost blinding in the dimly lit space. The faint greenish hue had intensified, radiating with a ferocity that made his skin crawl.

Seven's breath hitched as he stared at it, unable to look away. There was a pulse of energy, a strange vibration, almost as though the crystal was reacting to something, reacting to him.

It felt like the world around him had shifted once more. Something was coming. That sensation of being watched, controlled, it returned with full force. The crystal hummed in his hand, as though calling to something, or someone.

He gripped it tightly, sweat beading on his forehead, as the heat increased, almost as though it was burning him. But the pain was bearable. What he couldn't bear was the sense of powerlessness, of being caught in something much larger than himself.