Souls Online: Mythic Ascension-Chapter 263: Crush the Light

Empty.Hollow.

No teeth. No breath. No lungs.Only eyes.

Eyes that bleed.Eyes that scream.Eyes that weep in colors no god ever named.

So many gone.Popped.Pierced.Poisoned.

The Blossom bloomed.Radiant. Terrible.The room glowed. The walls burned. The flesh melted.

A gift. A prayer. A final bloom.

"Perfect.""Wasteful."

Light poured from its center like judgment.They should have dissolved.They should have been ash.

"You overreached.""You dared."

It cannot move.Can it?

No. The limbs twitch. The joints crack.The body slumps in a cradle of decay.The glow fades. Dim. Duller. Barely breathing.

It sees. It always sees.But seeing is not surviving.

There.

The black-red one.A shriek of claws.A beast draped in girlflesh.

Unknowable.

Her shape is wrong. Her rhythm is broken.No logic. No flow. Only slaughter.

She was blind.Now she is death.

"She sees the way we do.""She forgets what we know"But she ignores our words.

Each strike lands.Every swing is chaos.Its body unravels under her fury.

And the green one.The healer-who-blinds.The girl of sacrifice.

She burned her own thread to light another’s.Fed him life with her own flame.

Fool.Wretched.Beautiful.

She should have withered.She didn’t.

He lives.

They are not supposed to live.

You are afraid.I just observe

No..No. No.The Blossom was final.It should have been final.

But they rise.

And it—

It does not.

The world tilts sideways.The rot sets in.The floor drinks its light.

Eyes dim.Nerves snap.

Pain crawls inside what is left.

It wants to flee.It wants to fade.It wants to shine again.

But all it does is think.

It fails to act

She is wrong.She is right.She is one of us.

Everything stops.

Even the pain quiets.

That voice. That voice was not supposed to speak.

She knows the taste. The spiral. The bloom that does not end.She is our echo.She is kin.

The others fall silent.

It feels her claws again.Bone splits.Color fades. frёeωebɳovel.com

The light is gone now.

And the growl of the beast-girl fills its every thought.

They will tear it apart.

Let them.

No.

No. Not yet.

If it cannot killIt will endure.

It will linger.

A wound that never closes.A shadow beneath their joy.The eye that never shuts.

Forever.

Greg had no idea how to reconcile what had just happened. He had seen Luna go beserk and rush at the monster and he had wanted to avert his gaze, not wanting to see her in such pain.

But what unfolded before him wasn’t weakness. It wasn’t collapse.

It was slaughter.

There was no strategy. No calculated blows. No rhythm he could recognize from the world of martial arts. Her movements were raw, jagged, and impossible. Her joints bent at angles that should have shattered bone. Her limbs twisted with inhuman freedom. She skittered low to the ground one moment, then vaulted high the next, landing on all fours like a panther possessed.

She wasn’t moving like a person anymore. She wasn’t even fighting like a warrior.

She was hunting.

Her fingers, sharpened and curled like claws, plunged into one of the Demon’s eyes. Not a punch. Not a stab. She gripped the wet, bulbous orb and squeezed until it ruptured between her knuckles. Fluids sprayed across her face, but she didn’t blink. She didn’t even flinch. She snarled and ripped it free like a butcher tearing sinew from bone, then threw it to the ground and stomped it flat with a sickening crunch.

The Demon reeled back, twitching, spasming. But it was too slow. Too drained.

Luna was already on its back, her hands clamped around one of its elongated arms. Greg watched in frozen horror as her muscles bulged unnaturally, her tendons stretching as if fueled by something darker than adrenaline.

She twisted.

The limb popped from its socket with a muffled snap, but she didn’t stop there. She tore downward, peeling flesh from joint, separating the arm entirely in a jagged spiral of meat and tendon. The Demon’s limbs were not built like human ones, but Luna didn’t care. She treated it like prey. She ripped it apart one piece at a time, dragging the jagged stump through the ground like a trophy before she flung it aside.

Its body convulsed in response, light sputtering across its surface like dying stars. Its remaining eyes spun wildly in different directions. They blinked and bulged and tried to flee across its skin, but Luna wasn’t done.

She landed a blow to its chest that cracked the ribs beneath its luminous surface. Another punch crushed the ribs further inward. Then she leapt on its torso and drove both thumbs into another pair of eyes that sat at the center of its chest. She kept pressing, deeper and deeper, until her entire hands disappeared into its body.

She tore again.

She tore again.

The sound was wet and final, like a carcass being split open in the dark. Her hands came back coated in thick, glistening black sludge that clung to her arms like tar. The substance pulsed faintly with remnants of light, but it was dying, fading fast.

Still, she was not done.

Greg stood frozen, transfixed and horrified. He had seen plenty of brutal fights in his MMA days, but this was not brutality. It was beyond that. This was something primal. Ancient. Born in nightmares and blood.

Luna leaned down and snarled. Her lips peeled back, revealing jagged teeth that had not been there before. Her canines were longer now, too long. Misshapen. Built to tear and shred instead of chew. They jutted from her mouth like a predator’s.

She did not hesitate.

With a sudden snap of her head, she sank her teeth into the Demon’s neck.

A sickening squelch followed as her fangs punched through the flesh and into that thick, viscous sludge. It oozed out around her mouth, trailing down her chin in globs that pulsed weakly, like it was still alive and trying to resist her.

Greg’s stomach twisted.

She tore back with a savage jerk of her neck, black filth slinging across the ground. The Demon spasmed weakly beneath her, twitching in the remnants of its own fading power.

Luna bit again.

Another chunk of sludge-filled flesh came free in her mouth. She spat it aside, coughing as it splashed the floor. The tar-like substance hissed when it hit the stone, burning in little veins of dimming light before going still.

There was no sign of hesitation.

She dove forward with both hands and plunged her claws into the Demon’s chest.

The black sludge erupted in slow, syrupy waves as she dug through it. It stuck to her fingers, clung to her wrists, but she did not stop. Her arms pumped like an animal burrowing into a corpse, searching for something she could break.

Then her claws found another cluster of eyes hidden deep inside the thing’s core. They blinked at her weakly, confused, almost pleading.

She answered by slamming her skull into them.

Once.

Twice.

A third time.

They shattered under the impact, their membranes bursting with sickly liquid that hissed against her skin. Her forehead was slick with filth, but she did not care. She pulled her head back and let out a sound that made Greg’s blood run cold, a low, guttural growl of satisfaction.

Then she gripped its neck.

What was left of it.

Her claws dug in deep, and the black sludge writhed as if it knew what was coming.

She twisted.

The sound was sharp and final, like a brittle tree branch breaking under too much weight.

The Demon collapsed fully.

Whatever light had remained inside it dimmed into nothing. The sludge stopped pulsing. The eyes stopped blinking. There was no glow. No resistance.

Just the wreckage she had left behind.

Luna stayed crouched over the corpse, her shoulders heaving. Her breath was ragged and wild. Sludge dripped from her fingers and fangs, painting her like a monster.

Greg could not move.

This was not the girl he knew.

This was something else.

Something terrifying.

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