Faces in the Dark

Chapter 19: Faces in the Dark

The corridor twisted unnaturally, its walls damp with condensation and streaked with old blood. Faint, flickering lights overhead buzzed like dying insects, casting elongated shadows that slithered across the floor. Ryo's footsteps echoed in the silence, slow and cautious, every fiber of his being on edge.

He had descended into a forgotten level of the Maw, one rarely spoken of and never officially acknowledged—a place known only in whispers as "The Hollow." It was here, he'd heard, that discarded fighters were sent—those deemed too far gone, broken by the serum or madness. Not dead, but not truly alive either.

As Ryo pressed forward, the atmosphere grew heavier. The air stank of rot and something fouler, something that clung to his skin and invaded his lungs. The silence was not empty—it was pregnant with presence. Eyes watched him from the cracks in the walls. Breathing, shuffling, barely perceptible movement came from ahead and behind, but nothing ever revealed itself fully.

Until now.

A sound—like chains dragging—scraped along the floor ahead. Ryo stopped, his hand flexing open and closed. He didn't want to fight. Not here. Not like this.

But the Beast's Maw rarely cared what its fighters wanted.

From the shadows, a figure emerged. No… not a figure. A collection of limbs stitched together by desperation and violence. The man—if he could be called that—was gaunt, his skin pale and stretched thin over bone. His eyes, once human, were glassy voids. But what struck Ryo most wasn't the grotesque appearance. It was the markings on the man's chest—a tattoo.

Ryo recognized it. He had seen it on a boy during his first round in the Maw. That boy had smiled nervously, spoken of a family waiting back home. He hadn't survived past the third trial.

Yet… here he was. Changed. Hollow.

"Ryo…" the creature rasped, its voice cracked like old wood. "Is it… really you?"

Ryo's breath hitched. "Do you know me?"

The creature took a step forward, jerky and unstable. "We… we fought once. I remember your eyes. You didn't look away… even when I bled."

His mouth trembled. He looked like he was about to cry, but no tears came—only a trembling shudder that rippled through his frame.

Ryo took a cautious step back. "What happened to you?"

"I passed the trials," the Hollow whispered. "But the serum… it didn't let me go. It whispers. Screams. I see faces in the dark. Yours… his…"

"His?" Ryo asked sharply.

The Hollow's head twitched violently. "Your brother. He watches us. We're his soldiers now."

A chill ran down Ryo's spine.

Before he could speak again, a different sound cut through the corridor—a roar, guttural and full of fury. The Hollow's eyes widened with terror.

"He comes. The one with no name. He feeds on those who remember."

The Hollow darted away, crawling into a crevice in the wall like a spider disappearing into its web. Ryo turned just in time to see a new figure storming toward him, massive and barely humanoid, his skin cracked and burning with energy. This was no ordinary fighter—he was a beast created entirely by the serum's corruption.

Ryo braced himself, dodging the first swing that shattered part of the corridor wall. He couldn't outmatch this thing in strength—not without risking the serum's hold on his own mind.

He ducked low, landing several precise strikes to the creature's knees and neck, but it didn't flinch. It was like fighting a nightmare. For a moment, Ryo was tempted to tap into the serum's strength. He felt it pulsing in his veins like a seduction—use me… use me…

But he remembered what had happened in the last fight. The hallucinations. The voice that wasn't his own, laughing in his ear. He clenched his teeth and held back.

Instead, he used speed. Precision. Every bit of technique Ren had once taught him. It wasn't about brute force—it was about timing, patience, and endurance. He chipped away at the beast, slowly but surely, until it began to falter.

A final leap, a twist mid-air, and a driving strike to the creature's temple sent it crashing down.

Ryo landed, panting. Blood dripped from his lip. He stood in silence for a moment, heart pounding.

Then came the whispers.

Dozens of voices, all around him.

He turned to see them—other figures, other "Hollows." Some looked barely human. Others still retained a shred of themselves—enough to speak, to tremble. One wore a school jacket, torn and bloodied. Another clutched a broken toy in her hand. One had no eyes but kept muttering prayers under his breath.

They surrounded him, but didn't attack.

"You're still one of us," said a woman with shattered teeth. "But not for long."

"You'll lose yourself," said a man with his arms bound behind him by bone-like growths. "The more you fight, the more the Maw claims you."

Ryo's throat tightened. "Why are you telling me this?"

"To warn you," another said. "Because we weren't warned. We trusted the Maw. We trusted… him."

"Who?" Ryo demanded.

They all turned—slowly, simultaneously—toward a corridor sealed by chains and bloodstained symbols. The air around it vibrated, humming like a broken machine.

Ryo felt it before he saw it—something powerful, something aware.

"Ren," one whispered. "He's deeper inside. But he isn't your brother anymore."

Ryo's fists trembled.

"I'll decide that for myself."

The figures slowly faded back into the darkness, their forms melting into the shadows like ghosts returning to rest. Only one remained—a girl, no older than fifteen, her face half-burned but her eyes still bright.

She stepped forward, placing something in Ryo's hand—a tattered piece of cloth. A symbol etched into it. A fang coiled around a heart.

"He wears this now," she said. "Like it means something."

Ryo looked at the symbol, then at her. "Thank you."

She smiled weakly, then turned and disappeared into the dark.

Alone again, Ryo stood in the silence. The Maw had shown him its ugliest face yet. But it had also shown him the truth:

The serum didn't just kill.

It consumed.

It twisted.

And it used.

Ren had become part of it—an enforcer of this nightmare. But why? Was it by choice? Or had something darker claimed him?

Ryo didn't know the answer yet.

But he would find it.

Even if it meant facing the monster his brother had become.

Even if it meant becoming one himself.

As he turned toward the chained corridor, the symbol clenched in his fist, Ryo knew there was no turning back.

The final trial was near.

And the faces in the dark would soon have names.