Soul flame

As Speed writhed in the spider's web, helpless against their deadly advance, he closed his eyes and whispered a silent prayer—a desperate cry for salvation. His mind spiraled into the depths of his consciousness, where the oppressive darkness gave way to a flicker of light, faint yet steady. In that fragile glow, a figure appeared, one that brought both comfort and a deep pang of loss.

It was his mother.

She stood before him, her face soft and kind, but her presence radiating a strength that he had long forgotten. Her voice was a whisper, gentle yet commanding. "Speed," she said, her tone unwavering. "You are more than this moment. You carry the blood of something far greater. Wake up. The beast within you… free it."

Her words echoed, stirring something deep within him—a primal force that had always been there, dormant and waiting. Before Speed could speak, the vision shifted violently, the warmth of his mother's presence replaced by a cold, unyielding sensation. He stood now before a towering **gate**, carved from obsidian and etched with intricate runes that pulsed with crimson light.

The gate loomed over him, immense and foreboding, as though it had been forged by the will of the gods themselves. Speed felt drawn to it, his heartbeat syncing with the hum of its ancient power. On the other side, he could feel it—a presence, fierce and untamed, clawing to be released. Without hesitation, he reached out, his trembling hands pressing against the cold, unyielding surface.

"Open it," his mother's voice echoed faintly in his mind, just as the gate gave way with a thunderous groan.

The moment the gate swung open, a surge of unimaginable power erupted from within, enveloping him in a storm of light and shadow. The energy tore through his body, reshaping it, strengthening it. His muscles tightened, his veins burned with molten energy, and his Spirit magic, once chaotic and fleeting, now roared to life like a raging inferno. Speed's eyes flared open, now glowing faintly with an aura that mirrored the dragon's essence.

As the transformation completed, Speed rose to his feet, the silken strands of the spider's web dissolving into ash around him. He stood taller, his body coursing with power that felt both familiar and foreign. His birthmark burned brightly, its spiral pattern now etched with glowing crimson veins that pulsed in time with his heartbeat. His breaths came slow and steady, his fear replaced by a calm, predatory focus.

The spiders hissed and recoiled, sensing the change in him. The voice from the shadows returned, taunting as ever. *"So, the beast awakens,"* it drawled, its tone laced with dark amusement. *"But even a beast is nothing without claws. Come now, Dragon Mage. Show me how you fight… a warrior without a weapon."*

Speed's lips curled into a determined smirk, his glowing eyes narrowing as he faced the spiders. He didn't need a weapon. The power surging through him was enough. Clenching his fists, he allowed the energy to flow freely, unleashing the untamed might of the dragon within.

Here's how the intensity of this scene could escalate as Speed battles not only his enemies but his limitations:

The spider's body split apart beneath Speed's hands, its black carapace shattering as he unleashed a primal fury fueled by his newfound power. The beast let out a shrill, gurgling screech before crumpling to the ground, its legs twitching spasmodically. Speed didn't stop. As if overcome by a madness he couldn't control, he launched himself at the others with the ferocity of a storm unleashed.

His glowing eyes burned with an untamed light, and his fists slammed into the beasts with enough force to crack their exoskeletons. Their acidic green blood splattered across the walls and floor, hissing as it burned into the stone. The spiders recoiled at first, their instincts faltering in the face of his savage strength, but Speed gave them no quarter. Each strike was filled with raw power, his rage a relentless tide that overwhelmed anything in his path.

But the frenzy couldn't last forever.

The glow of his birthmark began to flicker, the intensity of his power waning with every breath. The euphoria that had surged through him turned into a gnawing ache in his muscles, each movement slower than the last. And the spiders—the ones he hadn't slain—were far from retreating. 

From the shadows, a new wave of them emerged. These weren't the same as the ones Speed had torn apart; their grotesque forms were larger, their movements eerily calculated. Their black bodies glistened with a viscous, green liquid that dripped from their jaws and fangs. Poison. These spiders weren't here to overpower him—they were here to wear him down, to finish the hunt with their venom.

Speed staggered back, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. His hands were slick with the acidic blood of the fallen, his body trembling from both exertion and the lingering traces of adrenaline. The new spiders clicked their mandibles, circling him like wolves around a wounded prey. One of them lunged, its barbed legs slashing through the air. Speed managed to dodge, barely, but his footing faltered, and he stumbled against the cold, cracked wall.

The voice returned, colder and more taunting than before. *"So, this is the Dragon Mage? A beast without restraint, a warrior without a plan. Look at you now—cornered, desperate, your power fading. Is this how it ends? Your story cut short by the fangs of mindless creatures?"*

Speed gritted his teeth, his stormy-gray eyes narrowing as he forced himself to stand upright. His legs quaked beneath him, but his resolve flared anew. The voice wasn't wrong—he had been reckless, and now he was paying the price. But this wasn't the end. It couldn't be.

One of the poison spiders hissed and sprayed a stream of green venom toward him. Speed barely managed to twist out of the way, the liquid sizzling as it struck the ground where he had been. He needed a plan. The madness of his transformation had given him strength, but now he needed control. His mind raced as he stared down the circling beasts, searching for something—anything—that could turn the tide.