The acid had filled the chamber. It swallowed the floor in seconds, thick yellow-green liquid bubbling violently as it devoured everything it touched. Bones melted into nothing. Flesh dissolved like wet paper. The slime that coated the ground turned into steaming mush, hissing and popping as the fumes rose in choking waves.

  The boy didn’t have time to react. He barely even had time to think. He jumped as high as he could to avoid the deadly concoction . His hands slammed into the ceiling, fingers digging into the pulsing flesh above him. It wasn’t solid like rock. It was soft and wet vibrating slowly. But his grip held anyway. His nails tore into the tissue as his weight yanked downward.

  He hung there, arms trembling. Below him, the acid churned like a boiling cauldron. The fumes burned his eyes. Every sensation of his body was invaded by the gas. His boots dangled just a few feet above the rising liquid, and he could feel the heat radiating upward like an oven. Every time the grub shifted, the acid splashed and surged, creeping higher as if it wanted him to join its symphony of death..

  The boy gritted his teeth, breath shaking. As his ribs gave him a deep, grinding pain that felt like shards of bone were scraping against each other every time he inhaled. Hanging from the ceiling did him no favors either. Gravity pulled his body down and forced his ribcage to stretch. His side throbbed violently. Every second felt like a knife twisting deeper.

  His arms began to burn almost immediately. He was slipping. Not quite yet, but he could feel his grip threaten to loosen.

  His hands were slick with slime. His fingers were already numb from the task of clinging to the ceiling. The ceiling pulsed, tightening and exhaling as the grub’s body moved. It gave the same sensation as hanging from a living throat.

  The boy stared down at the acid. Then his eyes shifted to the heart. It was still beating strong.

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  A grotesque mound of muscle hung in the cavity beyond the torn wall, pumping dark fluid through thick veins. It looked like a machine more than an organ—like an engine made of disgusting flesh. The boy’s stomach twisted as he watched it pulse. It shouldn’t exist—but it did— And it was the only thing keeping the grub alive.

  The boy’s jaw tightened. He needed the black residue. He needed it badly. He tried to summon it. He focused his mind and clenched his fists. He tried to force that weight in his chest to respond the way it had earlier.

  Nothing.

  His arms shook harder. His vision was getting blurry. The residue wasn’t crawling up his skin anymore. It wasn’t answering him. It wasn’t even whispering. It was gone.

  The boy swallowed hard. His breathing came out in uneven gasps. His mind felt foggy and it weighed on his skull. He felt tired and drowsy. His thoughts were slow and dragging through mud.

  His very soul felt tired. The fact of his very existence was exhausted. He blinked slowly, eyes struggling to stay open. He had to force himself to stay conscious

  The acid rose another inch. The boy’s heart pounded. He couldn’t climb. The ceiling was too slick. Every time he tried to pull himself forward, the flesh stretched like rubber and refused to give him leverage. And the heart… the heart was too far.

  It wasn’t unreachable. But too far for a tired body to climb towards. Too far for someone whose arms were already failing. The boy stared at the heart, breathing hard.

  Outside… he could still hear faint echoes. They were muffled and distant but very real. The sounds of screams, shouting, a roar, and falling rocks.

  They were still buying him time. And here he was hanging here like prey.

  His fingers slipped slightly causing his stomach to drop He tightened his grip instantly, nails digging deeper. Pain shot through his palms as the flesh tore. The boy hissed through his teeth.

  He couldn’t stay here. But he couldn’t climb. He obviously couldn’t fall and he still couldn’t summon the residue.

  He was trapped.

  The boy’s head tilted back against the ceiling for a moment, eyes squeezed shut. His breathing came out shaky. His ribs felt like they were splitting apart. His arms felt like they were being ripped from their sockets.

  His mind began to spiral. He had no intention of dying here. The boy’s eyes snapped open. He stared at the heart again.

  It beat with steady arrogance, like it didn’t care. It felt like it was confident he couldn’t reach it. That bastard heart is acting so cocky, thinking it’s better than me. His mind might’ve been going mad from the drowsiness.

  The boy’s gaze sharpened. He forced himself to breathe slower. He slowly compiled his thoughts into order.

  Think. Think like you used to. He didn’t know who he was. But he knew he wasn’t stupid.

  His eyes flicked between the ceiling and the heart and slowly measured: Distance—Angle—Height.

  The heart hung like a fruit, connected by thick ropes of veins. It swayed slightly with every convulsion of the grub. The boy’s mind began calculating automatically. If he could just....—Suddenly, he got it. His eyes widened. Then, despite the acid, despite the pain, despite the fumes— The boy smiled. He finally had an idea that could work if he was lucky and skilled enough to pull it off.

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  “...Eureka,” he whispered.

  As his voice echoed faintly in the chamber. The boy began to swing. At first, it was small. Barely a motion. Just shifting his legs forward and backward. Using his body like a pendulum. Testing the rhythm. The acid below hissed louder. The chamber shook. The heart pulsed confidently. Thump. Thump. Thump.

  The boy swung again. Even harder than the last time.

  His ribs screamed in protest as his arms burned. His grip slipped a fraction each time, and every slip made his stomach drop.

  But he kept going. He swung wider. Back and forth. Back and forth. His boots cut through the air inches above the acid. The heat kissed his soles. The fumes rose into his nose, making him gag. He coughed violently, nearly losing his grip. He clenched harder. His fingers tore deeper into the ceiling flesh. The boy’s eyes locked onto the heart.

  Trajectory.

  Mass.

  Momentum.

  Angle.

  Probability.

  He calculated like his life depended on it. Because it did. His swing widened. The ceiling stretched under his hands. His mind was still foggy and felt like he was going to black out. But he pushed anyway. He timed it. Counting the beats in his head as he tried to find a good tempo. Then he waited for the perfect arc.

  He swung backward, as far as his body would go. He swung back so far that his boots reached the ceiling as well. He then pushed off the ceiling and swung forward with everything he had. The boy’s body launched through the air. For one brief second, his hands left the ceiling. The heart filled his vision while the acid boiled below. The boy’s stomach twisted. If he missed, he died.

  His body slammed into the heart with a squelch as he tried to find an area to cling too. The surface was slick and pulsing, and coated in dark fluid. His hands slipped almost instantly. His boots slid down the side of it.

  “No—!”

  The boy clawed at the heart, fingers scraping uselessly. His ribs screamed helplessly as his body slid further. The acid was waiting beneath him.

  Then—His chest weight flared. It was weak, but it was there. A faint black residue crawled across his arm like a dying ember. The boy snarled through clenched teeth, forcing every last ounce of will he had into that residue. It responded with little enthusiasm, but he didn’t need a lot, he just needed enough. The boy slammed his fist into the heart.

  The residue surged, giving him enough power to puncture the organ. His fist sank into the heart’s flesh like it was mud. The heart began convulsing. The boy’s arm lodged deep inside it. Finally got you—you cocky bastard. How does it feel, heart? His mind was definitely not all there. The boy’s body jerked. The acid below splashed violently.

  And the grub outside writhed in pain. Harder than it ever had before.

  The boy gritted his teeth, panting, arm still buried in the heart. The heart beat against his forearm like it was trying to crush him. Thump. Thump. Thump.

  He could feel it in his bones. But he was alive. The boy yanked himself upward, using his lodged arm as an anchor. He climbed onto the heart’s upper surface, clinging to it like a parasite. As he finally pulled his arm free and laid there for a second. He let himself take huge breaths as he huffed air greedily. His ribs felt shattered. His arms felt useless. The fumes were everywhere and his soul felt like it was unraveling.

  Then his weight pulsed again. Not with power this time—but with unimaginable pain.

  The boy’s eyes widened. His head jerked downward as if something grabbed his mind. A sharp, splitting pressure stabbed into his skull. His hands flew to his head.

  “...Ah—!” The boy’s vision blurred as the chamber around him darkened. His hearing began to warp.

  And suddenly— He wasn’t alone anymore. Voices filled his mind. Not voices he could hear with his ears. Voices inside his head—echoes ringing in his skull. Memories that weren’t his.

  The boy’s breath caught as images flashed behind his eyes. A man screaming as teeth crushed his legs. A woman praying with her hands held up as the acid reached her waist. A child crying, calling for someone who wasn’t there. A strange animal limping away. The boy’s eyes widened.

  “No… no…”

  The images kept coming in flashes. As the boy experienced a feeling of someone dumping hundreds of lives into his skull all at once. His mind couldn’t handle it. His brain screamed in agony. He clutched his head tighter.

  The heart continued to beat beneath him. Thump. Thump. Thump.

  Each beat felt like a hammer striking his skull. The boy’s mouth opened in a silent scream.

  Then, suddenly— One memory hit harder than the rest.

  It wasn’t random. It was clear. The boy saw the jungle. And he saw her. Knell. He saw through her eyes. He felt her fear. He could feel her breath shaking. Felt her legs sinking in the mud as she ran.

  She looked back. She saw the grub. She saw the terrifying mouth open. She screamed— And then she was pulled backward. Her nails tore into the ground. Her fingers broke. She screamed until her throat bled. And then the sharp teeth hit. The grinding plates. And darkness followed soon after. Her final thoughts were not rage or anger. It was regret. She felt bad about not being good enough, like it was her fault.

  The boy’s eyes snapped open. His entire body convulsed. He screamed. A raw scream that tore from his throat like his soul was being ripped apart. He clutched his head, rolling on the heart as the memories continued pouring in. He couldn’t stop them. He couldn’t block them. He couldn’t breathe nor think. His mind flooded with death. The boy screamed again, louder. He felt himself slipping. Like his consciousness was being crushed under the weight of everyone who had died inside this beast.

  He was seeing too much. Feeling too much. Dying too many times. His vision flashed white. Then black. Then white again. His hands clawed at his own face, desperate to rip the images out of his mind.

  “STOP… STOP… STOP!”

  The boy’s body finally gave out. His arms went limp. His head slammed onto the heart’s surface. He lay there, twitching, chest heaving, eyes wide and unfocused. The boy’s breathing slowed. It was not because he calmed down. It was because he was fading. His eyes fluttered and his mind went blank for a second.

  Finish it. I have to finish it.

  The boy’s fingers twitched.vHe coughed, causing blood to spill from his lips.

  His ribs felt like dust and his body was done. But something inside him still refused to die. The boy’s eyes slowly focused again. He stared at the ceiling. Then observed his surroundings. The boy slowly forced himself up. He rose like a reanimated corpse. He picked up his club, which had been snuggled in his coated before he jumped. His hands trembled so badly he could barely hold it. He looked down at the hear—the memories in his head still echoed faintly.

  He could still feel the screams—the fear—the regret.

  The boy swallowed. His voice came out hoarse.

  “…It’s time to finish this.”

  The heart beat beneath him. Thump. Thump. Thump. And the boy raised his weapon.