The scavenger walked with difficulty, his erratic breaths bordering on suffocation. He could feel them twisting inside him, gnawing at his core from the inside out. The pain was unbearable, but so was the hunger.

  A movement in the distance alerted him, as a solitary shadow moved among the dunes. His paws moved before his mind. The urge to consume that shadow before corruption could taint it was his desire, the only thing that could pull him from this agony.

  With solitary steps, the creature moved for miles over days and weeks. In that pce, where day and night did not exist, time dissolved like the foam of the tide. The only thing that mattered was that the shadow wasn't coming closer; it only seemed to move further away with each step. Until finally, his body fell silent.

  Deep breaths tried to rouse his motionless body, while small beetles escaped from it.

  Slow footsteps approached. The creature sensed them, even though it had no eyes, but its body had ceased to function. It simply waited, fangs clenched, its exhausted mass of darkness poised to explode, ready to take with it any fool who dared approach.

  But it didn't happen. A paralyzing pain engulfed it, cutting off all thirst for blood. Only its agonized shrieks echoed through the dark night, and then… an explosion.

  A sea of ??those bck beetles escaped its body, moving like an oil slick back to their queen. In the shadow of that statue.

  Saint watched the entire process with impassive indifference, his eyes gleaming in that faint reddish light. The shadows around him shifted restlessly, not entirely pleased with the spectacle.

  But even so, they remained steadfast, alert. Be it a final attempt by the creature or an attack by another scavenger.

  During the days, or months, of her absence, she never lowered her guard, never faltered. Her mind remained as sharp as the first moment, while her enemy weakened. Yet, if that were enough, the gods would not have fallen.

  Her own body shattered.

  She was a saint of stone, special even among her kind.

  The shadows trembled, filled with panic.

  They were born for perfection, for battle. They would never lower their guard, never waver.

  An arrow streaked through the air, silent and incredibly fast.

  But perhaps that was her mistake.

  She tried to escape through the shadows, to create a wall.

  Believing with pride that they were the only ones capable of hunting in the abyss.

  Because the shadows… had stopped listening…

  …

  Saint's body sank into an abyss of darkness born from her own heart. It’s cold rose contrasted sharply with the roaring fme of her soul.

  She hadn't been so in touch with her element of origin since before her rebirth. Darkness had always been a cold element, full of indifference and a heaviness capable of suffocating even her. But she couldn't stop, even as her wounded soul fought to drag her into the pcid sleep of death.

  Like a tide, she moved… barely escaping an arrow that tore through the darkness like cloth.

  Her body reformed, allowing a river of ruby ??dust to cascade down like a waterfall. Half of her left torso had vanished, along with her arm.

  The arrow, which should have pierced the heart of any creature of its rank, was only averted by sheer luck and the swift reaction of her master's shadow…

  [Shadow Fragments: 183/10000]

  It wasn't even a direct hit… but her shadow no longer responded to her, nor did any shadow near her. Her will had been challenged, her soul fractured.

  Allowing the soul serpent to envelop her body like a tattoo, she summoned every st drop of true darkness to cloak herself and flee. But it was useless, no matter how much she moved, how hard she tried to hide. An arrow was there, guiding her for a precise and final shot.

  She could read her enemy's intentions with terrifying accuracy, just as her enemy seemed able to predict her every move. It was the logic of a cold and efficient hunter; traits that defined her.

  That's why she understood: she couldn't run. Not as she was now. But she couldn't fight back, even now, unable to pinpoint her attacker's location. She could feel it, a will so suffocating it made her stagger.

  A voice that forced her to her knees.

  Dare…

  An explosion severed both her legs. Without a foothold, she fell to the ground. The serpent of her soul slithered out instantly, reforming itself to carry her and run blindly.

  Death. She is dead.

  There was no escape. Only the wait to be sacrificed as fuel to strengthen another creature.

  She had to fight, to stand firm. To prove that even in the final moments, she wouldn't lower her gaze. Her very nature, her very essence, compelled her to counterattack…

  But she silenced them.

  It didn't matter what her instinct, her nature, or that extra sense connected to destiny told her. She no longer acted according to those parameters. Not entirely.

  With a will bordering on madness, Saint did something she had never considered: she surrendered and trusted in luck. With a decisive movement, her own gloved hand pierced her heart, shattering her fragmented soul.

  A moment ter, an arrow pierced her head.

  …

  A fleeting crity flooded the huntress's mind. Hidden even in her final moments among the shadows of the dunes, she could feel the fragments of shadow absorbing into her body, slowing her bruised soul.

  But something was strange. It was true that this creature wasn't very powerful. Barely worthy of her hunting time, solely due to the quality of its soul. But even when its fragments contained the essence of a divine shadow, it wasn't enough.

  Her eyes frantically scanned the sands, searching for any sign of change, any attempt by her prey to escape, but she only noticed the darkness dispersing among the sands…

  No, it wasn't just darkness; it was beetles.

  A new arrow was fired, striking the deteriorating body of the stone warrior. But when the arrow pierced her flesh, a tide of beetles emerged like a waterfall of blood.

  Even so, she didn't panic. Retrieving one of her arrows, she didn't hesitate for a moment. The impact decimated everything within a kilometer, raising a cloud of dust visible for miles around. She would have to move immediately, but the important thing…

  was that she hadn't received any extra fragments.

  Was it dead? No, she told herself. That being was strange in every way; its very presence was an anomaly that even unsettled her. Especially when he sensed, for a fleeting second, the presence of a demon.

  The rage returned, and hunger overwhelmed his senses. The madness of corruption dulled his mind, but his body had already received the message. His prey had escaped for now, but it wouldn't be long before he found it again.

  …

  Miles away, a stone vessel y buried beneath the sand, hidden among the ribs of an ancient serpent. There was no spark of life within it, and soon it would be nothing more than a speck of dust in that world of eternal peace.

  Even so, from the sockets of her eyes, a reddish glow slowly began to grow. Her fingers, barely sculpted to maintain a form, moved. The spark of life, previously nonexistent, grew like the embers of a fme.

  But even with all these signs, that body did not move. Not because it did not wish to, but because it could not. The soul trapped in that imperfect body was damaged, too broken.

  And like a broken doll, she could only watch with weary eyes as her consciousness faded for the first time since her rebirth…

  ‘Offspring-’

  ‘Incomplete’

  ‘Destiny’

  ‘Vessel’

  ‘Body’

  ‘Soul’

  ‘Rise’

  ‘Who were you?’

  ‘Oh, substitute, why are you not him?’