The creature's clawed hand reached for Shristi, its jagged nails grazing her skin as she stood frozen in terror. A guttural roar tore through the air, shaking the ground beneath them.
Wick.
He stood a few feet away, his head lowered, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. His breathing was ragged, his chest rising and falling rapidly. But it wasn't exhaustion—it was something else. A raw, burning rage.
Shristi gasped as she saw something she hadn't noticed before. Under the dim, eerie light, strange patterns began to emerge on Wick's skin. Black ink-like markings curled around his forearms, snaking up toward his shoulders and chest. The symbols pulsed with an unnatural glow, feeding off the energy in the air. His eyes, once sharp and calculating, burned crimson, radiating an aura that sent a chill down her spine.
The creature hesitated.
It let out an unsettling growl but didn't charge immediately. It had sensed the shift in power. Wick was no longer just another opponent—he was something else entirely.
But the hesitation didn't last long. The monster lunged at him with terrifying speed, its massive arms swinging like hammers. Wick didn't retreat. Instead, he moved with deadly precision, sidestepping at the last moment and leading the creature straight toward a thick tree. The beast crashed headfirst into the trunk, shaking the ground.
Wick seized the opportunity. He struck fast and hard, landing a flurry of brutal punches on the stunned creature's face and ribs. Each impact sent a shockwave through his own body, but he didn't care. This wasn't about endurance. It was about survival. About protecting Shristi.
The creature roared in frustration, thrashing wildly. But Wick didn't stick around. He turned on his heel and sprinted toward Shristi.
She lay motionless on the ground, her breathing shallow, her face pale.
"Shristi!" His voice cracked as he dropped to his knees beside her. He didn't have time to check if she was hurt. His instincts screamed at him to move.
And then he saw it—a swirling, luminous portal just a few feet away.
Without hesitation, he scooped her up into his arms and ran.
The portal pulsed, distorting the space around it, sucking in air like a vacuum. Wick didn't slow down. He leaped forward, holding Shristi tightly against his chest.
The moment they crossed the threshold, everything went black.
The Real World
Shristi woke up with a sharp gasp, her body jerking upright. Her heart pounded against her ribs, her skin slick with cold sweat.
Her surroundings blurred for a moment before coming into focus. She was in a familiar place—her dorm room. The warm glow of the bedside lamp cast soft shadows on the walls. She could hear distant voices, the faint hum of night settling over the campus.
She turned her head and saw Annu and Varsha sitting beside her, their faces filled with concern.
"You okay?" Annu asked softly. "You were screaming."
Varsha stifled a chuckle. "Yeah, and calling for Wick."
Shristi's breath hitched. Wick.
She lifted a trembling hand to her neck, her fingers brushing against bare skin. The necklace Wick had given her—the one that had supposedly protected her—was gone.
Her heart sank.
A nightmare. It had to be just a nightmare.
Right?
But then why did it feel so real?
And why, despite the relief of waking up, did a small part of her wish Wick was here—to tell her that it wasn't just a dream?
To be continued...