Seyfe stared down the behemoth as its hissed breath echoed like rolling thunder through the altar-like arena. He could feel it—that pulse of green rage vibrating beneath his feet, crawling up through his bones, itching at the back of his skull like a scream trying to get out.
He didn't move at first.
Instead, he calculated.
The arena was massive, domed high above with decayed steel beams and crumbling stone arches. Corpses of the unholy decorated its circular wall—some embedded into the brick, others still twitching from chains. At its corners, pillars of twisted rebar and loose stone reached into shadows, and debris from collapsed scaffolding offered partial cover. And in the very center, the ground slightly dipped where a drainage grate shimmered beneath the slime-slick tiles.
Options. That's all he needed.
Seyfe breathed in sharply and clenched his fists.
The veins of his Veiler gloves responded instantly. The embedded mechanisms shimmered along the fingers, metallic threads snapping to life.
First silver line – DaggerThe tip of his index finger glimmered, forming a short, curved blade.
Second line – SwordA sharp, one-handed longsword extended from the ridge of his hand to his forearm.
Third line – SpearFrom his other hand, the gloves responded with a snap, extending into a long, pointed spear.
Fourth line – PistolA swift flick of his wrist summoned a compact, silver-barreled pistol with runic inscriptions.
Fifth line – SniperThe glove on his left hand briefly shimmered, unfolding into a high-caliber sniper, thin but brutal.
Back circle – ShieldFrom the circular node on the back of his hand, a compact energy shield unfurled, hexagonal patterns lining its edges.
Palm square – SuitFinally, Seyfe slammed both palms together. The silver square plates in his palms flared to life, liquefying into veins of quicksilver that slithered up his arms, over his chest, and across his face—forming a full Veiler suit, sleek and reflex-enhanced, wrapping around his body with a hiss.
"Right," he muttered under his breath. "Time to work."
The Echoform shrieked—an ungodly, multi-voiced wail—and lunged.
Seyfe bolted sideways, diving behind one of the fallen scaffolding beams. The snake-tail whipped after him, shattering metal and stone as he rolled away just in time. He fired off two shots from the pistol, aiming at the pipes along its back.
The bullets struck—but bounced off. The pipes jiggled, hissed, but held.
"Tch. Not that easy."
He dove toward a support pillar, dodging the next strike from its beast-stitch arm. As the blow hit the stone, Seyfe kicked off the wall, activating the dagger, and sliced at the underarm—cutting into the thinner stitching. The beast howled and turned on him.
"That's the weak point," Seyfe whispered. "The seams."
The creature rushed him again, this time with synchronized motion—the tail from behind, the jagged limb from the front, and a slam from the calf-like leg. It was using coordination. Intelligent... deadly.
Seyfe ducked low—the shield sprang to life, absorbing the brunt of the tail slam. But the follow-up punch smashed him through the rubble, launching him backward.
He crashed into the side of the arena, coughing, blood smearing across the inside of his visor.
He stood.
Grimaced.
And looked up.
Above the Echoform, part of the arena ceiling looked loose—barely held together by rusted chains and broken pulleys. An idea sparked.
Seyfe gritted his teeth and switched to the spear form, dashing left and baiting the creature away from the weak ceiling zone.
Then he circled back, sprinting across the arena in a blur of silver speed, dodging every lash of the tail and punch of those monstrous limbs. He climbed up the wall, using collapsed columns for leverage—then flipped into the air.
Sniper mode—activated.
He locked onto the hanging pulleys above the creature—one shot.
The sniper cracked like thunder.Steel groaned.Chains snapped.
A massive section of the ceiling came crashing down directly onto the Echoform, burying it in stone and rusted metal.
Dust filled the arena.
Silence.
Seyfe panted atop the collapsed ledge, suit flickering slightly from overuse.
But the dust swirled.
He knew it wasn't over.
Beneath the rubble, green light began to pulse again.
It had only slowed it down.
Seyfe stood tall, his silver-coated form gleaming under the faint, flickering green.
"This place," he muttered, "is going to kill me before the enemy does."
He dropped to one knee, catching his breath.
Round two was coming.
The rubble shifted.
A low, guttural hum began to vibrate through the air—not just sound, but pressure, like a heartbeat deep inside the earth. Cracks of green light began seeping from the debris. Then—
BOOM!
The Echoform erupted from beneath, sending stone and steel flying. One of the chains, still wrapped around its twisted torso, whipped loose and lashed against the wall, embedding itself deep like a blade.
Seyfe leapt back, sliding to a stop. His sniper dissolved back into his glove, and the spear unfolded again, glinting with the tarnished green light of the arena.
But now... something was different.
The Echoform's movements—no longer wild or erratic—had shifted. There was a rhythm. It had learned. The beast, once charging with brute ferocity, now circled. Its snake-tail slithered with purpose, ready to flank. The pipes on its back hissed, pumping faster—feeding it something. A new strength.
And its eyes—those three glowing green orbs—were locked directly on Seyfe.
"Great," Seyfe muttered. "Now it's smart."
It charged again—but this time, it feinted the first strike.
Seyfe dodged left—only to be caught mid-step by a side-swipe from the snake-tail, slamming into his ribs and launching him into a broken support column. His suit flared to absorb the damage, but he still felt the bone-rattle of the blow.
The Echoform didn't stop. It lunged, arm raised, jagged beast-muscle twisting like ropes.
Shield up.
Seyfe blocked the downward strike, the sheer force cracking the tiles beneath him. The shield shuddered, barely holding.
He rolled free, kicked up into a flip, and activated the sword line.
The blade shimmered out, and with a spinning motion, Seyfe slashed across one of the Echoform's knees—cutting the exposed sinew where the stitches were weakest.
The beast bellowed—but it didn't fall.
Instead, it snapped one of the pipes from its own back and hurled it like a javelin.
Seyfe barely dodged. The impact exploded the wall behind him.
"Clever bastard," he hissed.
He looked around. There—the broken drainage grate in the center. If he could lure it over, maybe…
Seyfe began sprinting, darting between debris, firing from his pistol as cover. The Echoform gave chase, slower now—wounded, but more precise.
It lunged—Seyfe slid beneath it, slashing upward with his dagger, cutting deep into its underbelly seam.
A screech. A stagger.
Now.
Seyfe stood at the edge of the grate—then jumped, flipping over the pit as the Echoform charged straight forward.
The grate cracked. The beast fell through—partially. Its upper body slammed onto the edge, its massive limbs clawing for grip.
Seyfe didn't hesitate.
Spear form. Full charge.
He ran, spun once for momentum, and drove the spear directly into the base of its skull, aiming for the central eye.
CRACK.
The echoform spasmed. Its tail whipped violently. But the impact had done something—the light in its eyes began to dim, slowly flickering.
The chains dangling from the ceiling—one of them caught its limb. Another caught its tail. As it flailed, the beast's own momentum entangled it further.
It thrashed, screeched—but it was stuck, held halfway through the drain and bound by its own rage.
Green fluid began to leak from its seams. One of the back pipes burst, spraying the chamber floor with viscous light.
Seyfe backed away, panting, watching.
Then…
Silence.
The Echoform hung limp, half-submerged, its head tilted at an unnatural angle.
Seyfe dropped to one knee, his suit steaming, gloves flickering.
He didn't speak.
He just stared.
And then, after a long moment, whispered:
"…Not smart enough."
The silence shattered.
A low whir—mechanical and organic—resonated from deep inside the Echoform's body. Seyfe turned sharply as he heard the unmistakable hum of reactivation.
The second and third eyes flared open, casting a baleful green light across the chamber.
"…Shit."
From the ruptured pipes on its back, new lines of green fluid surged, fusing torn sinew, restitching beast-limbs like threads weaving a grotesque tapestry. Its gaping wounds sealed, and the writhing snake-tail began to lift again, this time splitting into three separate serpentine whips, each moving independently.
Its jaw creaked, unhinging wider than before. Acid dripped—thick, sizzling, greenish-black—hitting the floor with a hiss that melted stone.
Then it grunted.
Not a beast's roar.
A word.
"Live… again…"
Seyfe's eyes widened. "It's talking now? No. Hell no."
The creature began to rise again, no longer berserk but deliberate. Its glowing green gaze locked onto Seyfe with intelligent hatred.
This wasn't just resurrection—it was evolution.
Seyfe spun, trying to reassess the arena. His glove flickered—drained from the last fight, his transformations were lagging. The shield core was low, and the projectile forms were out of charge.
Survive first. Fight later.
The Echoform leapt with shocking agility, crashing down where Seyfe had just stood, acid splattering in a wide arc. A few droplets grazed his coat—burning through fabric before the Veiler skin wrapped to neutralize it.
Seyfe dashed behind a broken pillar, then activated dagger mode.
"Come on, think," he muttered. "No pipes, no bullets, no high ground—wait…"
His eyes flicked to the cracked ceiling above, where support chains still hung, half-buried in the shadows.
The Echoform began to speak again, its voice glitchy and layered:
"Unchain... me. No death. No time. Only... pain."
"You and me both," Seyfe muttered.
He sprinted around the arena, baiting the Echoform, tossing debris to throw off its aim. As it turned to chase, he climbed a scaffold, then threw a rusted metal plate. The creature reflexively blasted it with its acidic spit, which ricocheted and melted one of the support beams above.
That was the moment.
Seyfe leapt, dagger shifting to spear midair, driving it into the falling beam as a lever, causing the overhanging chain to whip downward and wrap partially around the Echoform's legs.
Another jump—Seyfe flipped behind the creature and kicked it, forcing its center of gravity forward.
It fell again—but this time Seyfe wasn't going for brute force.
He went for the pipes.
Spear turned to sword—he slashed the back piping while the creature was mid-rise, sending a surge of the green fluid spraying across its own tail, which immediately sizzled and began to corrode.
The Echoform shrieked—this one pained, furious, vocal:
"Thief. Murderer. DIE—"
Seyfe shoved a pipe shard straight into its side, twisting until it punctured something deep inside. Then he ran.
The creature began seizing, spasming in unnatural convulsions. Acid poured from its jaw, dripping across the arena and corroding everything in a spreading radius.
Seyfe scaled the scaffold again, this time looking for an exit door he'd seen earlier—half-covered in broken steel.
The creature's voice echoed one last time:
"I... am not... the first. You... will wake... the rest."
Seyfe froze for a moment.
"…There's more?"
Then the chamber shook violently. The arena floor cracked. Whatever was left of the core system was overloading.
No time.
Seyfe dove through the exit, slamming his palm into the manual override. The reinforced doors slammed shut behind him just as the echoform roared, its voice warped by agony and rage, shaking the tunnel like thunder.
Panting, bruised, coated in sweat and residual acid burns, Seyfe finally stopped.
One word escaped his lips:
"…Why is this my life."