Xin stood over the Queen's twitching corpse, his breaths ragged, his muscles trembling. His knuckles whitened around the spear, and without a word, he drove it into the monstrous womb.
Again.
Again
Again
And again.
Each strike was fueled by fury, by exhaustion, by something deeper he couldn't name.
The bloated flesh split open, yellow bile and half-formed fiends spilling onto the cavern floor. The creatures twitched and convulsed, their malformed bodies writhing as if resisting death.
Xin didn't stop.
He twisted the spear, ripping through the sac of flesh, ensuring there was nothing left to crawl out. His vision blurred with tears—was it from the methane? The rage? He didn't know, and he didn't care.
All that mattered was that they were dead.
The cavern was a tomb of silence now, the kind of stillness that only comes after chaos has spent its fury. The air was heavy, thick with the stench of rot, blood, and bile—a miasma that clung to everything it touched. It clung to their skin, their clothes, their lungs, as if the very cave itself sought to remind them of what had transpired. The Queen's final moments had been a grotesque spectacle, her offspring writhing and twitching in a pitiful dance of death before finally going still. The fight was over, but the aftermath was a different kind of battle.
Xin pulled his spear free from the carcass of the last of the Queen's brood, the shaft slick with thick, oozing filth. His hands trembled as he stumbled back, gasping for air. His entire body ached, every muscle screaming in protest, every joint feeling as though it might give way at any moment. He sank to the ground, his spear still clutched in his hands, its weight both a comfort and a burden. His breaths came in ragged gulps, each one a struggle against the oppressive atmosphere of the cave.
Belial was the first to move. He lowered his sword, its blade glistening with the same blackened ichor that coated Raven's gauntlets. For a moment, he stood there, watching the Queen's corpse, ensuring it was truly dead. His golden eyes, usually so sharp and calculating, were dim now, reflecting the faint bioluminescent glow of the cavern. Satisfied, he turned and slumped against the nearest wall, his body stiff from exertion. His mind, however, was anything but still.
Raven followed suit, collapsing to one knee, his chest heaving. His gauntlets were caked in the remnants of the fight, the ichor dripping slowly to the ground. He didn't speak, didn't even look up. His focus was inward, grappling with the toll the battle had taken on him.
For the first time since the fight began, they could rest. But rest was a relative term. The silence was heavy, laden with unspoken thoughts and unprocessed emotions. The cave, once alive with the sounds of battle, now felt like a void, swallowing everything but the faint echoes of their breathing.
Belial exhaled slowly, his body protesting every movement. His mind, however, was racing. The Queen's death had not been what he expected. In the game, it had been simple—clean, even. The moment the Queen was slain, it vanished into thin air, leaving behind nothing but the satisfaction of victory. But this… this had been different. The Queen's final moments had been grotesque, her body convulsing as her offspring clung to life, writhing and twitching in a desperate attempt to survive. It had been a cycle of rebirth, a macabre dance of death and renewal.
Was this some kind of natural defense mechanism?
A survival instinct encoded in the Queen's very being? Or was it something more sinister? The thought unsettled him.
He was used to fights having a definitive end, a clear line between victory and defeat. But this—this was something else. If they hadn't ensured the children were destroyed, would the cycle have simply continued? Would the Queen have risen again, reborn through her brood?
He pushed the thought away, unwilling to dwell on it any longer.
There were more immediate concerns. His gaze shifted to Xin, who sat a few feet away, his spear still clutched in his hands. The boy was shaking, his breaths uneven, his face pale. Belial had seen Xin in battle before, had seen him face down monsters with a determination that belied his youth. But this—this had been different.
Xin had killed before. He had no problem slaying monsters, even if he never sought it out. But the Queen's children… they had been something else entirely.
Grotesque, rabid, their bodies misshapen mockeries of life. And yet, they had still been children. The realization settled in Xin's bones like a weight, dragging him down. His stomach churned, his hands trembling as he clutched his spear. He squeezed his eyes shut, silent tears slipping down his face.
He hated this. He hated feeling this way. He hated the guilt that gnawed at him, the doubt that whispered in the back of his mind. He pulled his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them, pressing his forehead against his sleeve. He didn't sob, didn't wail. He just cried quietly, shivering with exhaustion.
Belial watched him, his golden eyes dim in the cavern's eerie glow. He wasn't sure what to say—if he should say anything at all. Words felt inadequate, hollow in the face of what Xin was feeling. Instead, he pushed himself up, wincing as his muscles protested the movement. His boots squelched against the damp ground as he approached one of the strange, glowing flowers that grew along the cavern wall. Its petals shimmered with an otherworldly luminescence, casting a soft light in the otherwise oppressive darkness.
He plucked one, bringing it to his nose. The faintest trace of oxygen reached him, a small but welcome reprieve from the stench that filled the cave. He turned back to Xin, holding the flower out to him.
"Breathe," Belial said softly. "You need it. We all do."
Xin barely moved at first, his head still bowed, his shoulders shaking. But after a moment, he lifted his head, his green-rimmed eyes flicking to the flower. He hesitated, his fingers brushing against Belial's as he took it. He pressed it close, inhaling deeply, letting the clean air fill his lungs. The sharpness of the methane in his throat dulled, and for the first time in what felt like hours, his breathing steadied.
Belial didn't say anything else. Instead, he sat down beside Xin, his movements slow and deliberate. He wrapped an arm around the boy's shoulders, pulling him close. He didn't offer empty reassurances. He didn't tell Xin that it was okay, that it had to be done, that he had no choice. Because they both knew those words meant nothing.
Instead, he just sat there, his presence a silent acknowledgment of the weight pressing down on Xin's shoulders. The cavern was still, the silence heavy, but in that moment, it was enough. They had survived. They had won. But the cost… the cost was something they would carry with them for a long time.
The minutes stretched on, the cavern's bioluminescent glow casting long shadows across the walls. Xin's breathing had steadied, though his hands still trembled slightly. Belial's arm remained around his shoulders, a steadying presence in the midst of the chaos. Raven had finally risen, his gauntlets now clean of ichor, though the weight of the battle still showed in his eyes.
"We should move," Raven said finally, his voice low but firm. "This place… it's not safe to stay here long."
Belial nodded, though he made no immediate move to rise. His gaze lingered on the Queen's corpse, now still and lifeless. The questions still gnawed at him, but he pushed them aside. There would be time to unravel the mysteries later. For now, they needed to regroup, to recover, to prepare for whatever came next.
Xin finally stirred, his grip on the glowing flower tightening slightly. He looked up, his eyes meeting Belial's. There were no words, but none were needed.