First murder on the road to life

A black flash, calm, therefore frightening.

Before his death, the man could see many different emotions: the anger of the murderer, perhaps joy or pleasure at the revenge delivered.

But...

Nothing could be more frightening than the indifference in the stare of death. It did the worst thing to life - it belittled life to nothing.

His life wasn't worthy of even the slightest emotion, that's what Olan felt when the black flames reflected in his empty eyes.

Tap.

Tron's palm touched his chest, the round wound as if carved into glass showing its contours.

Flesh with streams of blood came out, sending a lonely chill down Olan's back, it didn't have time to reach his heart as it was already lying on the ground, continuing to beat sparsely...

Olan slowly raised his hand, looking at the bloody palm with his wide-open eyes.

"Am I going to die now...?"

He received no curses or apologies in response, which was to be expected from the man, but his killer was not.

"I don't know, can you survive with a wound like that? I guess I'd better ask Morbia about that."

Tron turned in her direction.

Bam.

Before he could say anything, Olan's body fell to the ground, letting out its last breath.

Morbia smirked as she stepped forward confidently. Unlike Tron, she had seen people die hundreds of times before.

"How does it feel? Do you feel the bloodlust building up in you, or the secret pleasure?"

Only a calm look full of incomprehension was given to her.

"Agh... Come on!"

Crackle.

Suddenly, Tron's entire body arched at a strange angle, his joints were ready to twist, and it seemed like a demon had possessed him.

Without hesitation, Morbia took a step back, but soon she realized what was wrong.

Her eyes reflected Tron's right hand, it straightened sharply in Olan's direction. Then, black flames emerged from his palm, joining Olan's body at many points like a net.

The cords of flame trembled like veins that carried streams of blood in unusually large volumes.

The smooth, supple skin of Olan's young body wrinkled, the life draining out of him even though he was already dead.

A few seconds were enough to turn his corpse into a mummy with dark, cracked skin, dried out like some fruit that had had all its juice extracted.

Then, the stream of black flames stopped, and Tron's body returned to normal followed by a deep sigh.

Click.

There was a loud click like a clock, only Tron heard it as it came from the depths, from the Void.

His consciousness was forcibly transported to see the Death Clock. The massive white hand had already passed several divisions, only 66 hours left before Tron would turn into a monster, losing his opportunity to become a human.

Tremble. Tremble. Tremble.

The death clock shuddered as another, gray one appeared under the white massive hand.

With slow motion, the gray hand went forward across the dial, leaving a white field behind it. Reaching 1/12th of a division, the hand stopped.

Six hours have passed, it was 72, it became 66, and 6 from 72 is also 1/12. Thus, the gray arrow caught up with the white one for a moment, still moving.

Tron opened his eyes as he slowly looked at Morbia.

In a heartbeat, Morbia's gaze became wary, preparing to release the terror that was beginning to brew in the depths.

"Hahaha..."

Tron let out a short laugh that he had no control over.

"How strange, Morbia you don't know what I'm feeling? What emotion is this...? I... I like it!"

Morbia gulped at Tron's grimace.

His eyes shone with delight, it seemed nothing strange, but... his smile, was split. One part was calm, while the other half curved into a satisfied grin.

'I see... Slowly he's getting closer to becoming human. Good, it's weird, but I guess it's normal. Morbia thought, trying to get used to Tron's smile that she was in no hurry to leave.

Humans were born completely right away.

The phrase seemed to have no depth, but if a Blank like Tron was in the background, things became more complicated.

From flesh to emotion, at birth, a human had it all. It took time to learn how to behave in society and to gain experience, but anyone from childhood knew how to feel both anger and joy.

The Blanks were different, they weren't human, and the few of them who had the opportunity to become the Black One were on the path to becoming human.

Tron was gradually acquiring the emotions that every human had originally possessed before they were born in the womb.

The corners of her lips lifted up forming a bitter smile on Morbia's face, she watched Tron's reactions intently.

'No father, no mother, no brothers or sisters, no friends or enemies, no thoughts or actions, just emptiness.'

Her gaze shifted to Olan, who had been in the afterlife for what seemed like a few seconds now.

'Yet he took the life of a real person to get only part of it for himself. Hah, unlike murderers like me, he at least has a purpose - he wants to live. Which one of us is the monster?'

Step.

Carelessly stepping over Olan's body with her broad stride, Morbia narrowed her eyes.

"That was the Death Clock, right?"

Tron nodded.

"1/12 turned white. Does that mean I need to kill eleven more people, and I'll become human?"

"Maybe yes, maybe no. I know very little about it, you're a rare case, you know?"

Then, Morbia turned and looked toward the Sacrificial Crystal, protected by a barrier.

Earlier, Tron would have asked what to do, but... a strange feeling inside him told him that Morbia wanted to take the crystal.

It was an intuition, a hint of which Tron could only touch now.

Step. Step. Step.

Tron headed straight for the crystal, a confident step.

"Agh...?" Morbia glanced at Tron, "Wait! We have to destroy the barrier first! It could be dangerous to touch it!"

But... she was too late, it was already too late.

Tremble. Tremble. Tremble.

A fingertip touched the barrier, an active ripple traveled across the surface like a calm water surface being disturbed.

Barriers had only one primary purpose - to protect something of value from intruders - humans or Ghosts.

However, no one set up barriers against the Blanks, against those who weren't part of the real world.

Tremble.

With little resistance, Tron moved forward, his body passing through the barrier like a dense and resilient mass, though it should be a solid, impregnable wall.

Morbia's eyes went wide, her surprised gaze following Tron's determined steps, his hands, his fingertips that very soon touched the purple crystal, taking it into his empty embrace.

The Sacrificial Crystal was torn from the altar, revealing that the main treasure was lost.

An active shudder went through the barrier, it shook in waves like a bubble ready to burst, soon all the power went sharply into the ground, disappearing in a white flash.

A weak earthquake had begun.

"Damn it!"

Morbia exclaimed shifting her weight from one foot to the other, in an attempt to regain her balance.

At this time, Tron peered curiously at the Sacrificial Crystal, his eyes fixed on the tongue chained in the glass prison.

It was his path to the Damned Door, the way out into the real world.

Crackle.

Suddenly, something grabbed Tron's wrist and pulled on him.

He slowly looked up to see Morbia, who was dragging him forward, her face filled with anxiety.

"Hurry up! That shudder, that's our signal! The others should be getting out by now!"

Step. Step. Step.

A multitude of footsteps were heard from behind the wall accompanied by a shuddering and chaotic echoing like a battlefield.

Running with all her might following her leader, Lorana turned around at the squad of guards, exclaiming in a worried voice:

"Fuck! They're catching up to us! How do we plan on getting out of here?!"

Next to her, Hygon was making powerful strides, moving like a calm giant while multi-colored projectiles flew over him, crashing into the unstable wall.

Whoooooooosh.

Two silhouettes emerged from the passageway, catching Gex's attention with a green eye glowing in the darkness, one of them holding a purple crystal.

Then, a sly smirk appeared on Gex's face.

"Don't worry, our lifesaving ticket should be coming any minute now!"

The echoes running from the cascade of footsteps traveled outside the lighthouse only to collide with the currents of a strong wind.

This wind was not natural, it was created by the powerful force of a living creature possessing two broad, eerie nightmare-like wings.