To the brink

A pack of giant centipedes burst from the shadows—six, maybe seven of them. Fin barely had time to think. Right now, he just had to fight.

The first lunged, its mandibles wide open. Fin didn't flinch.

He drove his fist straight into its face, right between the mandibles. The impact echoed through his bones as the creature's armoured head exploded, chitin and ichor spraying across the stone floor.

The second came from the side—Fin dropped low, the air hissing as its fangs sliced through empty space above him.

"I just have to survive," he thought to himself

He spun, eyes catching the third just as it coiled to strike. Without hesitation, he grabbed its thick, wriggling body and, grunting with effort, snapped it like a whip. The writhing corpse cracked into the second centipede, smashing it into the wall with a sickening crunch.

"What the hell am I doing? How am I this strong?"

His breath came fast, chest heaving—not from exhaustion, but from adrenaline. The remaining centipedes hesitated now, circling. Watching. The three that were left mirrored his moves while observing him. When he took a step forward, they took a step back, and vice versa. They were locked in a standoff.

Fin was a bit relieved since he could take a small break. Sweat was dripping down his face like Niagara Falls.

"Hey! You have to snap out of it or else they're going to kill you!"

"He's right, you know. You may be stronger, but one moment of inattention and they're going to kill you."

Fin didn't know where the voices were coming from, but he recognized them. They were the voices of Ephie and Cornelius.

"I might have completely lost my mind, but they're right. I must do something!"

With this new madness-fueled gusto, Fin suddenly roared into action. He ran in a straight line toward his enemies, startling them for a second—that was all he needed. One of the arthropods jumped into the air while the other two flanked him. He caught the one in the air with his bare teeth, crushing it with one bite, and strangled the other two to death.

The fight was over, but he still had something to do. He puked his guts out—or more precisely, the guts of the beast he had just chomped on.

"How can something taste so foul? This should be illegal," he muttered, while projectile vomiting.

When he finally stopped, something strange happened. He felt a weird but powerful energy surging inside him, coming from the bodies of the centipedes.

"I don't understand… but this is amazing," he said, a shaky laugh escaping his lips.

He looked around, trying to find Ephie or Cornelius—but they were gone. Had they even been there at all?

"I'm going mad," he realized. The essence he absorbed had healed his body, but his mind was unravelling.

If this trial went on much longer, he wouldn't just die—he'd lose himself completely.

Still, he walked on, wandering through the labyrinth with no sense of direction. There was no way to tell which way was forward, so he just kept moving.

He couldn't sleep. Couldn't eat—the wolf meat was long gone. Couldn't cry—his body didn't even have the water left to make tears.

His mouth was so dry, he couldn't even talk to himself anymore.

And that's when he finally collapsed.

His body had stopped working, but he hadn't lost consciousness.

"Finally... maybe this is it," he thought. "Maybe escaping means dying. I can't do this anymore."

He lay there, broken and motionless, time slipping past in silence. For what felt like hours, he mourned his life—his fate. And then, through the haze of suffering, a memory stirred.

He remembered his life.

He had always wanted to die.

But for some reason, he had always kept fighting.

When his father beat him—he fought.

When he lived on the streets—he fought.

When he had to beg for food and water—he fought.

And even when he was trapped in a coma for five long years, his body unresponsive—he still fought.

Finally, he remembered the friends he made at the academy. They had not formed a really strong bond, but they had still formed one.

Then his mind was filled with determination. He was going to do everything in his power to survive.

"Curse you all who stand in my way. I am going to live no matter what happens. I won't even let death or fate get in my way, because their will is weaker than mine," he growled.

Then he planted both of his fists in the ground, pushed, and stood up. He leaned on the edges of the labyrinth and walked slowly. He walked and walked—but then something happened. He felt as if he knew where he was. And as soon as he realized that, he saw something that made his blood curl.

The exact same wolf-like beast he faced on the day of his arrival.

The monster charged him. He was so weak that he couldn't dodge such a simple strike, so he let himself get bit. The fangs of the wolf pierced his skin and sank deep into his side—blood flowed like a fountain, and the pain was blinding. But Fin didn't give up.

He started pounding on the beast's head, feeling its skull crack until it backed away. It jumped a few feet back and attacked again—this time aiming for his throat. Fin managed to block it—preserving his throat, but damning his left arm. The beast pulled, ripped, and chewed his flesh, tearing his arm off.

"AAAH… FUCK!!!" Fin screamed.

The monster grinned, letting the dead limb flop to the ground. Then it stood up on its two hind legs and looked down on Fin's pathetic body.

"THINK. Something—FAST!"

The beast raised its arm and brought it down, trying to behead Fin with its claws. At that exact moment, Fin mustered all the strength he had left. He was truly putting everything on the line. He kicked the monster's legs, knocking it off balance, grabbed his torn-off arm, and used it like a club—beating the beast to death with it.

The smile on the monster's face was replaced with bruises and broken teeth.

Fin had won.

But he was bleeding out.