Chapter 2: The Devil’s Breath
Chapter 2: The Devil's Breath
The corridor stretched on forever.
Alex didn't know how long he'd been walking. Minutes? An hour? There was no sun. No clock. Only the slow, rhythmic beat of red light pulsing through the cracks in the floor like a heartbeat that wasn't his.
Each step scraped his already-aching legs. His shoes—regulation issue—were scuffed and torn. His ribs hurt worse than before. Maybe cracked. He could still breathe, but not easily.
He kept the bone shard gripped tight in one hand. His only weapon.
His ears were sharp now. Every distant drip of water, every gust of stale air brushing against the walls, sent shivers through him.
He wasn't alone on this floor.
Something was hunting him.
The first ambush came fast.
A pair of long-limbed beasts darted out from a corner just as he stepped into a wider chamber—taller than him, eyes glowing blue this time, claws curved and twitching. They didn't roar or growl.
They just moved.
Alex spun, slashed wide with the bone blade. The first missed him. The second didn't. Its claw raked across his shoulder, tearing into cloth and skin.
He screamed and staggered back.
Too fast. Too many. Not like the last one.
He backed up until his heel caught on loose stone and he nearly fell.
One of the creatures lunged.
Now or never—
He clenched his fists and reached inward.
That second heartbeat inside him pulsed again, stronger.
Do it.
He let it out.
[DEVIL TRANSFORMATION: ACTIVE]
He exploded.
His skin cracked with glowing red veins. Steam hissed off his shoulders. The smell of burning flesh filled the air. Black and crimson energy pulsed from his spine like fire ripping through a pipeline too narrow to contain it.
Bone popped. Muscle stretched. His eyes blazed devil red.
Time slowed.
The creature's claws came down—he caught its wrists mid-air.
They didn't move.
He crushed them. The bones snapped like dry twigs in his hands, and the monster shrieked—high-pitched and alien.
He didn't wait.
Alex slammed his forehead into its face. Once. Twice. Bone shattered. Black blood splattered across his cheek.
He grabbed the creature by the neck and swung it into the stone wall with a thunderous crack. The impact left a crater.
It twitched once, then stilled.
The second one tried to back away.
He didn't let it.
Alex shot forward, tackled it to the ground. His fists came down like hammers—over and over—until its skull collapsed like wet clay under a boot.
Blood sprayed across the floor. It soaked his arms. His face. His chest. He couldn't tell where his injuries ended and the monster's began.
Then the power cut off.
His strength left with it. Legs shaking. Arms trembling. Breathing ragged and wet.
Then the aftershock hit.
He dropped to one knee, gasping, eyes wide. His skin felt like it was tearing apart. His chest burned. His vision blurred again—not from fear, but from his body screaming at him.
Stamina... gone. Muscles tearing. Skin rupturing. Devil mana burns from the inside out.
That wasn't magic. That was a curse wearing my body like a coat.
He lay there for minutes, maybe longer.
Eventually, he sat up, clutching his side. The gash from earlier was still bleeding, but he could move.
Barely.
He looked at the corpses. Still warm.
One of them had a jagged claw, long enough to make a decent weapon. He snapped it off, wrapped the base in cloth from his ruined shirt, and made a makeshift dagger.
He stood again, slower this time.
The pain wasn't gone—it wasn't going anywhere—but it was familiar now.
One minute of power… and I nearly died. If I use it again too soon, I might not get back up.
He moved on.
The next chamber wasn't far—a wider space with jagged stalagmites rising from the ground like teeth. The smell hit first: rot, mold, and copper. Something was dead here—not long ago.
He crouched beside a small corpse.
Not a monster.
A human.
Their armor was shattered. Their throat torn open. But they still clutched something in their dead hands: a utility belt with vials, a rusted blade, and half a protein bar wrapped in foil.
Alex grabbed it all without hesitation.
They don't need it anymore.
The protein bar was stale, half-crushed, but it tasted like heaven.
He downed it in two bites, eyes stinging with sudden emotion.
I don't want to die down here. I'm not going to die down here.
The red cracks in the floor pulsed faster.
Alex looked up. A distant rumble echoed from deeper within the dungeon—not close, but not far enough to ignore.
The next fight was coming.
He tightened the makeshift grip on his new blade, stood tall despite the ache, and faced the corridor ahead.
No end in sight. No map. No mercy.
And then he disappeared into the dark.