"It wasn't screaming in pain.It was singing to itself."
The arena screamed.
Not the creature—the shrine itself.
As Violet's essence poured into the bone-veined floor, the runes flared bright enough to sear the edges of reality. The stone cracked in perfect, spiraling glyphs. The air thickened, hot and wet, like standing in the lungs of something awake and dying at the same time.
The Amalgamation reeled back—its eye torn, chest leaking trails of black rot that sizzled on contact with the ground.
But it wasn't retreating.
It was changing.
Matte stepped back toward Violet as the Amalgamation's massive torso convulsed violently—spines erupting from its back, flailing like centipede legs. Its limbs folded inward. Its heads twisted and screamed and collapsed into each other.
And from that writhing mass…
It birthed something else.
A second creature.
Smaller. Faster. Cleaner.
It crawled out of the main body's side like a shadow torn loose, hitting the ground with a wet slap and immediately sprinting on all fours across the arena—no eyes, only rows of serrated teeth running from chin to stomach.
Matte barely dodged as it screeched past him, slashing through the air with bladed elbows. He spun and countered with a backhand slash, catching the thing in the ribs—it hissed and kept moving, circling.
"They're multiplying now," he muttered. "Great."
Behind him, Violet had gone still again.
But this time… she wasn't afraid.
Her hands were pressed to the glyphs, and her hair had begun to lift slightly—like something was rising beneath her skin. Her irises flickered between violet and silver, and a faint hum bled from her chest.
"Matte…"
Her voice was two-toned.
Old and new.
"The shrine was never just a tomb. It was a song. A rhythm to bring them back."
The Amalgamation roared—not at them, but at her.
It recognized her.
Feared her.
"You're part of it," Matte whispered.
"I was born near one," she said. "I think… I've always carried its memory."
The creature lunged again.
This time, Matte didn't dodge.
He caught it—barehanded, slamming it into the ground and driving his blade through its spine.
It shrieked and writhed, spraying black ichor across his face.
"No more mouths," he growled.
But the moment he killed it—
Two more burst from the original body.
Violet shouted something—but her voice wasn't her own anymore. It echoed around the chamber like a thousand overlapping memories.
"THEY WERE NEVER ONE. THEY ARE A CHOIR."
Matte felt it in his ribs.
The shift.
The entire arena dropped six feet at once, like a vertebrae collapsing in a spinal fracture. A second layer of the floor opened beneath them, exposing a vast pit of flesh and darkness that sang without sound.
It wasn't music.
It was hunger harmonized.
The Amalgamation laughed—not vocally, but through every body part it had stolen.
Dozens of throats erupted in dissonant joy.
"WE SANG YOU INTO THIS WORLD."
Matte jumped back as three more sub-creatures emerged, crawling on the walls, teeth clattering like windchimes made from bone.
They circled.
Bit.
Tore.
He struck one down—slammed his knee into its spine and drove the blade through the jaw. Another bit into his shoulder. He grunted in pain—the first time since the fight began.
Blood sprayed.
His blood.
And the Amalgamation absorbed it.
Then something snapped.
Not in the arena.
Not in the shrine.
In Violet.
Her hands rose, glowing now—fully glowing—and her body lifted a few inches off the ground.
Not floating.
Carried.
By something within her.
She turned toward the creature.
And it stopped moving.
Every sub-body.
Every mouth.
Every face.
Still.
"You wanted a song?" she whispered.
Her voice cracked with static and sorrow.
"Here's mine."
She let out a scream so raw, so primal, it shattered two of the glyphs around her.
Not Essence.
Not NULL.
Something older.
Something personal.
Matte felt it, even mid-strike—his blade vibrating like it had heard a truth it never wanted to carry.
The Amalgamation reeled, spasmed, split open—five new mouths screaming in silence.
Matte dove forward.
Struck at the open chest.
Direct hit.
The creature collapsed, folding into itself like melting wax.
Its eye closed.
But didn't die.
Because this wasn't its final form.
The pit below began to boil.
The arena breathed inward.
And from the depths, something deeper, something colossal, began to rise.
Not with rage.
Not with speed.
But with purpose.
Matte stepped back, barely able to keep his footing.
Violet stumbled beside him, now coughing, essence flaring around her uncontrollably.
They both looked into the pit.
And the final voice came:
"You were not made to kill me.""You were made to carry what I leave behind."
The words didn't echo.
They clung.
Matte could feel them writhing beneath his skin—like seeds, freshly buried and trying to take root.
The air around him trembled. Not from volume, not from pressure—but from grief.
Whatever the Amalgamation was…
It wasn't angry.
It was remembering.
From the pit below, something began to rise.
Not fast.
Not violent.
But inevitable.
A colossal limb—formed of fused corpses and glistening tendons—emerged first. It wasn't moving toward them. It wasn't even reaching.
It was offering itself.
Like a birth canal opening in reverse.
Matte backed up slowly, keeping Violet behind him. Her glow had dimmed now, flickering like a dying ember. The outburst had taken something from her—something she didn't know she had to give.
Her voice was hoarse.
"I saw it. Matte, I… I saw where it was born."
He didn't look back.
"Where?"
"Inside someone. Inside everyone. It's a memory. It's a hunger we all left behind. But down here... it never stopped growing."*
Matte's jaw clenched.
"Then we end it before it's full."
The creature continued to ascend.
From the limb came a torso, bloated and steaming—covered in a tapestry of hands, each one frozen in mid-reach. Some grasping. Some shielding. Some praying.
A massive, vertical maw split its sternum, not opening—just breathing.
Waiting.
Matte felt his blade vibrating at his side, pulsing with resistance.
Not against the creature.
Against what it meant.
"You feel it too, don't you," Violet whispered.
He nodded.
"It's not just a monster."
"It's a piece of us."
She looked at him then—really looked—despite the tears, despite the blood drying at the corners of her lips.
"If we kill it… we kill that part."
Matte's voice came low.Heavy.
"Then it dies screaming."
The arena began to shift again—this time sloping downward, tilting into a spiral. The shrine itself was guiding them toward the final chamber, the place it had been protecting, gestating, all along.
The Amalgamation's true body still hadn't fully emerged.
But it was close.
Matte turned toward Violet and offered his hand.
"One last descent?"
She took it.
Her fingers were ice.
But her grip?
Solid.
As they walked toward the spiral mouth of the shrine, past the burning remnants of dead skin-walkers, spiderborn, and malformed limbs, Violet said quietly:
"Matte… if I lose myself down there…"
He didn't let her finish.
"Then I'll bring you back."
She hesitated.
"And if you can't?"
He didn't blink.
"Then I'll stay lost with you."