Noa forced himself upright, body wobbling like a puppet on frayed strings. His ribs screamed with pain, but he didn't care. With a single, explosive leap, he launched himself out of the pit, landing hard on the jagged stone floor.
The creature loomed above him, eyes blinking in unison, but Noa was already moving.
Without hesitation, his fist slammed into the creature's skull with a sickening crack. The monstrous head jerked back violently.
His sword had fallen somewhere in the chaos. Noa didn't even think about it. He didn't need it.
He gripped the creature's wet flesh with one hand, ripping out a bloodshot eye. No wince. No thrill. No pain. Just cold, empty focus.
"..." Noa muttered, voice low and flat, "for some reason... I don't feel pain."
His fingers tightened, crushing the eye in a wet pop.
"And right now, I really want to kill you."
He looked into the creature's many eyes—blank, uncomprehending.
"Do you know why?"
The beast made no sound. No answer.
Noa's voice dropped lower, barely a whisper, like he was asking himself more than the monster in front of him.
"I guess... I don't care anymore."
His expression was empty, as if the fight was a formality, a necessary ritual with no meaning.
And then, without warning, he lashed out again.
His fist slammed into the beast's throat, crushing the cluster of smaller eyes that pulsed there. The creature staggered, gurgling as ichor poured from its wounds, but Noa didn't stop. He drove a knee into its side, followed by an elbow across its malformed jaw.
The blows landed with sickening force—but there was no expression on his face.
No rage.
He was mechanical. Precise. Detached.
The monster reeled back and swung its claws in desperation, slashing through the air. Noa tilted his head, letting the claws pass just inches from his face. He didn't flinch.
With a dull grunt, he caught a limb mid-swing and twisted sharply. SNAP.
The arm bent in a way it wasn't meant to. The creature screeched.
Noa stepped forward, grabbing its face with both hands.
And began to pull.
Flesh tore. Eyes popped. The monster flailed, screaming in agony as Noa's hands dug deeper, peeling at its face like wet paper.
"Do me a favor," Noa muttered, voice as flat and cold as the grave, "and don't die so quickly."
He shoved it backward before it could collapse, letting it fall on its twitching limbs. Its regeneration kicked in again—sickening tendrils of muscle reaching out, flesh slowly sealing.
Noa watched, eyes dull.
"I want to know... what it takes to break you completely."
The monster lunged again, faster now, its fury mounting. Its tails whipped the air, and one managed to strike Noa's shoulder, tearing skin and splattering blood against the walls.
He didn't even blink.
Instead, he stepped into the strike, closing the distance.
He grabbed one of the writhing tentacles—and ripped it clean off.
The creature screamed again, staggering back.
Noa stared at the twitching, bloodied limb in his hand, then let it fall with a soft thud.
"I thought this would be harder."
He moved like a phantom, vanishing and reappearing behind the beast.
His foot slammed into the back of its knee, forcing it to collapse.
Then came another blow—barehanded—driving straight into the creature's spine. Bones shattered beneath the impact.
Still, the monster refused to die.
Still, Noa didn't stop.
Still... he felt nothing.
Behind them, the chamber had erupted into chaos.
Adventurers shouted, boots pounding against the stone as they scrambled to escape. Some dragged the wounded; others simply ran, their voices panicked and raw.
"Fall back! Get out—GET OUT!"
"Gods, what is he?!"
"The monster's regenerating again—run!"
They didn't look back.
Not at the crater. Not at the creature.
Not at the boy standing in the center of it all, surrounded by rot, blood, and twitching limbs.
But Noa didn't spare them a glance.
He didn't even seem to register their presence.
His world had narrowed to a single point—the malformed creature in front of him, still shuddering, still alive.
Still breathing when it shouldn't be.
The creature lashed out, tentacles whipping blindly, but Noa stepped through the attack like walking through wind. His foot slammed down on one of its limbs with a crack of snapping bone. Another punch drove straight into its side, sending thick ichor spraying in an arc across the ruined floor.
He stared down at it—expression flat, empty.
"I can still feel the resistance in your bones," he muttered, low and hollow. "That means you're not broken yet."
The creature hissed, a wet, gurgling snarl rattling in its throat. Its eyes—those thousands of blinking red orbs—twitched, spinning wildly as if searching for a way to escape.
Noa stepped forward again.
Another fist.
Then another.
The creature's face pulped under the blows, regeneration struggling to keep pace.
He crouched low and tore into the creature's shoulder with his bare hands, fingers sinking into flesh like knives.
Veins snapped. Bones cracked.
It screamed—a high-pitched, maddening shriek—but it was drowning now.
"That's right, scream."
Noa's shadow loomed over it.
Unchanging.
Unfeeling.
Behind him, the screams of adventurers faded down the corridors. The sound of fleeing footsteps echoed away into nothingness. Even the magic residue in the air seemed to dissipate—leaving only silence.
Silence… and one final monster still struggling beneath Noa's weight.
And Noa?
He simply pressed his hand against the creature's face again.
"Why am I not feeling anything?" he asked, to no one. "Not pain. Not anger. Not even satisfaction."
The creature twitched violently beneath him, clawing at the dirt, eyes wild.
Noa watched it. Dead-eyed. Detached.
"...Maybe I'm the real monster here."
Then he raised his hand once more—ready to end it.
Noa's hand moved with cold, mechanical precision.
His fingers curled tightly around one of the creature's bloodshot eyes—the grotesque, bulbous orbs pulsing with unnatural life. Without hesitation, he yanked.
A wet, sickening tear echoed through the chamber as the eye came free, dangling by a thin thread of sinew.
The creature convulsed violently, gurgling a strangled scream.
Noa didn't relent.
One by one, he ripped every eye free from their sockets.
Each one fell with a heavy plop onto the blood-soaked floor, leaving behind raw, bleeding holes.
The monstrous entity shrieked, the cacophony of its many voices collapsing into a single, broken wail.
Its regeneration—the unnatural force stitching its flesh back together—faltered visibly, weakening with every severed eye.
The pulsating red glow along its body dimmed to a dull flicker.
Its limbs twitched uncontrollably, less coordinated now.
Noa's expression remained unreadable, his eyes cold as ice.
"You're losing power," he said quietly, tone flat and unchanging.
The creature's once terrifying gaze was now a mess of ragged flesh, twitching nerves, and exposed veins.
Noa gripped its twisted head and shoved it hard into the ground, burying the shattered sockets into the dirt.
"If this is your last defense… it's pathetic."
Its regeneration slowed to near nothingness, the flesh no longer knitting together with the furious speed it had before.
Noa rose to his feet, towering over the broken beast.
The adventurers' panicked cries had long since faded to echoes.
Only the heavy breathing of the wounded filled the hollow chamber.
Noa's eyes flickered briefly with something unspoken—something deeper, darker.
Then, without a word, he prepared for the final strike.
The creature, desperate and enraged, summoned every ounce of its dwindling strength.
With a guttural roar, one of its long, slimy tentacles lashed out—fast, wild, and lethal.
Noa barely had time to react.
The tentacle slammed into his ribs with bone-cracking force, sending shockwaves of pain through his body.
But instead of retreating, Noa's eyes narrowed with cold fury.
With an iron grip, he seized the writhing appendage.
The creature howled in agony, thrashing violently, but Noa's strength was unyielding.
With a brutal, tearing motion, Noa ripped the tentacle clean from the beast's back.
The severed limb writhed on the ground, dripping thick black ichor.
Noa sneered, voice flat and emotionless.
"I guess that's all you got."
He didn't hesitate.
With a savage thrust, Noa plunged his sword deep into the creature's chest.
The beast's guttural scream was cut short as Noa's blade pierced through a pulsating red sack nestled within its ribcage.
Carefully, almost reverently, Noa scooped the sack out—it looked like the creature's heart, throbbing and wet.
He held it up, crimson blood dripping down his arm and pooling on the cracked stone floor.
Noa's lips curled into a grim smile as he slowly squeezed the fleshy organ.
Dark blood splattered across his face and chest, but he didn't flinch.
He bathed in the warm, sticky blood, letting the moment sink in.
An eerie silence fell over the ruined chamber.
Noa's voice was a low whisper, almost lost in the dripping blood.
"Pathetic."
noa inhale a deep breath
"status"