CHAPTER 1212: HAZY HEAT.

A limb—far too long, far too thin—slithered through, ending in barbed hooks that scraped the floor. A second limb followed, this one plated like armor. The creature’s head forced its way next: a grotesque mask of bone wrapped around a mouth that wasn’t a mouth so much as a pulsing void ringed with teeth.

Cain’s heartbeat faltered.

The Watcher didn’t hesitate. It lunged. The chamber detonated with light as its wings snapped open and slashed the air, sending arcs of force slicing toward the creature. The Devourer shrieked in a frequency Cain felt behind his teeth more than heard.

Chunks of iron exploded from the walls. Towers of dust rolled across the floor. Cain ducked behind a fallen brazier and shielded his face as shards of metal tore past.

The Watcher slammed into the Devourer, driving it back into the breach. But the creature was relentless. It latched onto the Watcher’s torso, claws puncturing glowing flesh. The Watcher roared—an unearthly sound that cracked the ceiling—and drove a blade of light straight into the creature’s skull.

The Devourer convulsed.

Cain pushed himself upright. "If you can kill it, kill it!"

"I am trying."

The Watcher tore its arm free and struck again, sparks flying.

"They multiply when wounded. If more arrive—"

Too late.

Two more limbs erupted through the opening. Then a second head. Then an entire, writhing mass of bodies—dozens—pushing through the widening breach.

Cain’s breath vanished.

The Watcher turned. "Run."

Cain shook his head. "Not without you."

"Run," the Watcher snapped, voice breaking. "If you fall here, the tear will collapse and your world with it."

Cain swore, turned, and sprinted.

He crossed the chamber, boots hammering against iron, dodging falling debris. A slab of the ceiling cracked loose and slammed into the ground inches behind him. Fire exploded upward. He jumped over a shattered chain, slid under a collapsing pillar, and reached the far archway—

Only for a Devourer’s limb to shoot toward him like a spear.

Cain threw himself sideways. The limb sliced past, carving a trench in the floor. He scrambled to his knees, heart tearing at his ribs, and bolted again.

The Watcher’s voice thundered behind him—painful, desperate, fading.

"Cain—keep going! Your world—needs breathers—needs—"

The rest drowned beneath a roar so violent the chamber seemed to invert.

Cain didn’t look back.

He reached the archway, ducked through, and plunged into a sloping tunnel lit by flickering veins of light. The ground vibrated under each step. The walls shook. Dust filled the air like smoke.

Behind him, the Watcher screamed.

Cain stumbled, nearly tripping, but forced himself forward.

He didn’t know where this tunnel led.

He didn’t know if the Watcher was still alive.

He didn’t know what waited beyond the next corner.

But he knew one thing with absolute certainty:

Whatever hunted the Watcher would come for him next.

And he wasn’t ready.

Not even close.

He kept running.

Cain didn’t remember the tunnel turning. One moment he was sprinting through choking dust, the next he was stumbling into a cavern so large the air itself felt hollow. The ground sloped downward in a broken spiral, leading into a basin carved from something older than stone. Lines—carvings—sigils—scored every surface, glowing faintly like embers buried under ash.

He slowed, chest heaving. His ribs felt like splintered firewood. His throat burned with every breath. Behind him, the tremors still came—violent, erratic—but quieter now, as if the battle in the throne chamber had been swallowed by distance.

Or by something worse.

Cain wiped blood from his cheek with the back of his hand and looked up.

The cavern roof stretched so high it might as well have been the night sky. A faint shimmer drifted across it, like heat waves over desert sand.

He didn’t trust it.

He didn’t trust any of this.

His voice sounded too small in the vast silence.

"Watcher! If you’re alive—just say something!"

Nothing answered but the echo.

A pit opened in his stomach. He wasn’t attached to the Watcher—he didn’t even know what the thing wanted from him beyond cryptic warnings and half-truths—but Cain had seen enough death in the past week. Enough loss. Enough sacrifice.

If the Watcher was dead...

Cain pushed the thought down.

He needed to focus.

He needed a way out.

He needed something that made sense.

But the cavern gave him nothing but emptiness.

He descended the spiral path, following the gentle pull in his chest. It wasn’t a physical pull—more like a pressure, a soft compass tug behind his sternum. The same feeling he’d been trying to ignore since the tear first opened.

Awakening.

That was the Watcher’s word for it.

Cain hated the word.

He wasn’t awakening into anything. He wasn’t chosen. He wasn’t meant for some cosmic role. He was a guy trying to survive a week that had steadily grown more impossible.

At the bottom of the basin sat a single structure—a monolith, smooth and black, taller than a house but perfectly featureless. Glossy. Cold. It drank the dim light instead of reflecting it.

Cain circled it once.

Nothing.

He pressed a palm to it.

Cold.

He tried pushing.

Then pulling.

Then stepping away in frustration.

Still nothing.

"Figures," he muttered. "Bring me through hell, dump me in a cave, and hand me furniture I can’t use."

His voice echoed like a distant mockery.

One more step back... and something shifted.

Not the monolith—his vision.

The surface rippled.

Cain froze.

The rippling grew.

Then the black surface brightened, faint images forming beneath its skin.

A shape.

A silhouette.

Him.

His blood ran cold.

Not a reflection—he wasn’t standing close enough for that. The image was older, clearer, wearing clothes he’d lost days ago. His past self stood in a ruined alley, breathing hard, hands shaking.

Cain stepped closer despite everything in him screaming not to.

The image sharpened.

Past Cain knelt beside a corpse—no, not a corpse. A body. A man still half-alive, bleeding out from wounds Cain didn’t recognize. Past Cain was saying something, pleading. Cain couldn’t hear the words but he remembered the moment well enough.