"Monsters aren't born. They're made."
The tower ruptured with a sound like a dying animal's scream, its surface splitting open to release a cloud of almost invisible spores. They billowed outward with impossible speed, catching Jagbir in a full-body embrace before he could even think to step back. He inhaled reflexively, his eyes widening in the split second before the spores took effect.
His scream curdled the stale cavern air. It wasn't a sound of pain or fear, but something deeper—primal terror ripped from the throat of a mind under siege. Jagbir dropped to his knees, the [Ember Snake] dissipating as his concentration shattered. His body convulsed violently, limbs thrashing in spasms that seemed to bend his joints beyond their natural limits.
"Hold him down!" Ayan shouted, already moving forward. "Before he hurts himself!"
The other disciples hesitated, uncertainty and fear warring in their eyes as Jagbir's convulsions intensified. Kanshul himself retreated, his hands swatting away at the air, as if to deflect the spores. Ayan cursed under his breath, diving into Jagbir with reckless determination. His fingers dug into the Senior disciple's shoulders, but it was like trying to pin down a whirlwind.
"Help me!" he yelled again, and this time, two others sprang into action. Together, they pressed Jagbir against the cold cavern floor, their combined weight barely enough to contain his spasming body.
Jagbir's eyes rolled back, dark pupils lost to a storm of white. The tendons on his neck stood out like thick cables, and foam flecked the corners of his mouth.
"Snakes in my veins," Jagbir babbled, voice cracking. "Faces in the walls. They're watching. They're always watching!" His fists slammed against the ground with enough force to split his knuckles, but he seemed beyond physical pain.
Ayan gritted his teeth, feeling the tremors beneath him like the aftershocks from a deep quake.
"He is a Steel ranked disciple. How is this possible?" a craggy-faced disciple muttered, his voice thick with disbelief. Beads of sweat glistened on his brow as he struggled to contain his grip on the flailing Jagbir.
Ayan ignored him, focusing on keeping Jagbir restrained.
"Back off!" Kanshul ordered as Reni gasped in horror, struck by one of Jagbir's flailing arms. The disciples backed away, their faces masks of shock and revulsion.
Kanshul stood with his arms crossed, expression cold. "It's too late for him."
Ayan didn't flinch. He tightened his grip on Jagbir's shoulder, refusing to let go. "We can still help him!"
"I said back off!" Kanshul moved forward, pulling Ayan away from Jagbir with surprising force.
Ayan stumbled but rounded on Kanshul, eyes blazing with defiance. He pushed forward, but Kanshul blocked his path, shoving him back with a hand to the chest. "Stay out of this. You'll make it worse."
Ayan didn't back down. He met Kanshul's gaze directly, something he rarely dared. "The spores attack only the closest ones—those who usually caused the disturbance!"
Kanshul's gaze swept over the disciples, doubt flickering in his eyes. Ayan seized the moment.
"The spores have infected and hallucinated him. If we don't treat him soon, he'll become more than crazy," Ayan shouted, urgency spilling into each word. "He'll transform into a monstrosity, controlled by the Bloom towers!"
His declaration hung in the dank air like a death knell, freezing the disciples in place. Even Kanshul looked shaken.
"You can't be serious," Sharav whispered, eyes darting between Ayan and Jagbir's convulsing form.
Ayan's voice was level, almost cold with certainty. "We only have sixty seconds. I have a plan."
Jagbir's thrashing grew wilder, a guttural moan escaping his lips as though the fight within him was reaching his peak. His skin seemed to ripple unnaturally, veins bulging and twisting beneath the surface.
"We need to restrain him," Ayan insisted, desperation creeping in. "Now! Or soon he'll become one of them!"
Kanshul hesitated, but then nodded curtly at Sharav. "Make it fast."
Sharav and the other disciples swarmed around Jagbir with renewed urgency, fighting to pin his writhing limbs as Ayan reached into his satchel. His fingers closed around a small vial—Dreamroot distillate, carefully harvested and distilled from the rare plants that grew only in the deepest parts of the Hollow. As an experienced hauler, he always carried one; he couldn't afford more.
"Hold tight!" Ayan urged as he kneeled beside Jagbir's convulsing form. He popped open the wax seal with his teeth, the bitter scent of the distillate hitting the back of his throat. With one hand, he pinned Jagbir's shoulders with surprising strength, while the other forced the disciple's jaw open just enough to pour half of the smoky green liquid under his tongue.
For several agonizing seconds, nothing changed. Then, gradually, the violence of seizures subsided. Jagbir's body gave one final, massive shudder before going almost completely still, his chest heaving with ragged but steady breaths. His eyes fluttered as if waking from a nightmare, the wild panic in them receding to a dull confusion.
"Keep him steady," he instructed, focused on Jagbir's calming breaths. Silence fell over the group. He rose to his feet, ignoring the stunned stares of the disciples. He didn't have a chance to catch his breath before a scream pierced the air.
Reni.
She staggered, eyes wide with horror, as she looked down at her arms. Tiny, writhing veins of black spidered under her skin where the spores had touched, spreading with terrifying speed toward her heart.
"No!" She clawed at the creeping tendrils in a futile effort to stop them, panic setting in. "Get it off me! Please!"
Ayan's hand clutched the distillate clutched protectively in his hand. Half of the medicine was still there. His mind raced, calculating if he had enough Dreamroot left to pull her back from the brink.
"Reni!" he shouted. "Don't worry! I can stop this!"
But as he moved toward Reni, Kanshul stepped into his path like an immovable boulder. His massive arm shot out and clamped Ayan by the wrist.
Kanshul loomed over him, eyes cold and unyielding. "She's done," he said flatly. "Give that to me."
"What? No!" Ayan struggled against Kanshul's iron grip, but it was like trying to bend steel.
"He's stable," Ayan turned, observing Jagbir's slow, but regular breaths. "More medicine won't help; he just needs rest. Please…"
Kanshul's grip tightened in response, making Ayan drop the vial into the bully's outstretched hand. A sneer twisted his face as he roughly spun away from Reni.
"Jagbir's still alive," he said to Sharav, holding up the vial. "He needs this more than she does."
Reni collapsed to her knees, a choked sob tearing from her throat as she lost all the strength to fight. Ayan watched in helpless fury as Kanshul walked back toward Jagbir, who now lay in a restless stupor.
"You can't just—" Ayan started, but Sharav cut him off with a look of disdain.
"I can," Sharav replied coolly. "And I will. We don't waste medicine on weaklings."
"Please, she's suffering," Ayan pleaded, his voice choked with emotion and desperation. "Show some mercy."
"Hauler," Sharav hissed, the word a venomous whisper in the still air. "This is what mercy looks like."
The other disciples stood back, their silence an affirmation of Sharav's words. Some glanced at Reni with pity; others couldn't even meet her gaze.
Ayan raged against the unfairness of this cruel world. Reni's infection, caused by only a few spores, should have been easily cured, sparing her a torturous end. Instead, the disciples' selfish negligence condemned her to a slow, agonizing death.
The black veins spread across Reni's skin like wildfire now, pulling tighter and darker until they seemed ready to burst from within. She clawed at her arms, sobbing and gasping as her body convulsed.
"Please…" she choked, locking eyes with Ayan. For one flicker of a second, she was still her—frightened, in pain, trusting him to fix this.
Then her jaw snapped sideways with a wet crack.
Bones bulged beneath her skin, realigning, twisting. Her scream turned guttural, raw. Fingers split at the tips, becoming claws. Veins blackened, skin mottled gray-green and bloated, stretched taut over thickening muscles. Her ribs pushed outward like something inside was trying to tear through.
Ayan stumbled back, bile rising in his throat.
"Reni…"
But it was too late.
Her face twisted, mouth stretching into a maw too wide for any human. What had been Reni collapsed inward—replaced by something monstrous.
Where there had been a frightened girl only seconds ago was now something monstrous: an abomination whose mouth opened wide to unleash a guttural howl that shook dust from the cavern walls. The spores had done more than corrupt; they had remade her entirely.
"Reni!" he shouted, desperation tearing through his voice as he reached out with a trembling hand. But it was no use; reason had fled her eyes, replaced by something raw and untamed.
Ayan stumbled back, heart pounding at his ears while bile rose in his throat—not just at Reni's fate, but at the brutal indifference that had let it happen.
Then—her glowing, corrupted eyes locked onto him.
She let out a bone-shaking howl and surged forward, faster than anything Ayan had ever seen.
Claws extended.
Mouth unhinged.
No hesitation.
And she was coming straight for him.