Phased out

The bridge stretched endlessly before them. The dim red glow barely illuminated the rusting metal, and with each step, the silence between Ethan and Karlos grew heavier.

Neither of them rushed.

No words. No reassurances.

Just the rhythmic clank of their boots against the steel.

At first, Ethan hadn't noticed it—the way Karlos had changed. The way the confidence he once carried had vanished.

But now?

Now it was impossible to ignore.

Ethan's mind swirled with uncertainty.

"Why…?"

Why was Karlos rushing this decision?

Why wasn't he calculating, thinking—being the Karlos that always found a way?

Ethan swallowed, then finally spoke, breaking the unbearable silence.

"Hey, Karlos… what made you choose Back?"

Karlos kept walking. His pace never slowed. At first, Ethan thought he wouldn't answer.

Then—after a long moment…

"I don't know."

Ethan's stomach twisted. That wasn't the answer he expected.

"What do you mean you don't know…?" His voice was quiet but sharp, laced with unease.

Karlos' voice was flat when he replied. "I meant exactly what I said. I don't know."

"So… you just guessed?"

Karlos stopped.

Ethan's body tensed.

The silence that followed was suffocating.

For the first time since they had started walking, Karlos finally turned toward him.

His expression was unreadable.

"I don't know, man… I think I'm just tired."

Ethan blinked. His lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to respond—but no words came out.

"No, yeah… I completely understand," Ethan muttered instead. "Same here."

Karlos let out a breath—a tired, almost hollow chuckle.

"Like, what just happened before... that Gravi-Ungui thing…" His voice trailed off, but Ethan immediately understood.

The fight.

The blood.

The gore.

Everything they had just barely survived.

Ethan stayed silent, realizing Karlos needed to vent.

"Imagine if we weren't able to figure it out…" Karlos muttered.

"That thought is actually disturbing me. And you know I'm not good with gorey shit."

His tone was light, but Ethan could hear the weight beneath it.

"I felt like vomiting. I still feel sick just remembering all of it. It's messing with my head. I don't feel good."

Ethan watched him carefully.

"Maybe because of that… I made this decision."

Karlos let out a soft breath, his eyes drifting toward the path ahead.

"It feels rushed… doesn't it?"

The air around them seemed to tighten.

The dull red glow flickered slightly.

The bridge creaked beneath them.

A sound—so faint, so distant, Ethan almost wasn't sure if he imagined it.

But Karlos?

Karlos didn't react.

Instead, he just let out a small, humorless laugh.

"Who knows?"

Ethan nodded slowly, speechless.

He didn't know how to console his friend.

He didn't even know if Karlos needed consolation.

So instead—he kept walking.

Because he trusted Karlos.

And Karlos kept walking, too.

Because he needed to know if his decision had sealed their fate.

They walked.

And walked.

And walked.

Twelve minutes.

Straight.

No talking. No sound except for their footsteps and the occasional creak of the bridge beneath them.

It felt endless.

Karlos' pace was erratic. Sometimes he would speed up—almost like he wanted to get this over with—then suddenly slow down again.

Ethan mirrored him unconsciously, following his rhythm.

Once in a while, they paused.

Not to rest—but to think.

They would stop at the edge, glance down into the void, let the silence sink in.

And for those brief moments, it felt like they were searching for something.

Not answers.

Not logic.

Just… a feeling.

Then, they would start walking again.

But now—

Now, after they resumed walking…

They noticed something.

Something off.

Something wrong.

They noticed it.

A sound.

Faint.

Distant at first.

So subtle that for a moment, they thought it was just their own breath.

But it wasn't.

It was deeper.

Low.

Guttural.

A noise that dragged itself through the silence, like something massive was exhaling slowly… deliberately.

Ethan's footsteps slowed.

Karlos froze completely.

Neither of them spoke.

The sound continued.

A steady, heavy breath.

Like something was… waiting.

Karlos' throat felt dry. He didn't want to ask. He didn't want to say it.

But his mind screamed the question anyway.

"Where is it coming from?"

Ethan's hand twitched. His breath, which had been slow and controlled this whole time, became uneven.

He took a step forward—the sound stopped.

Silence.

Absolute silence.

Karlos slowly turned his head, his eyes flicking to Ethan. They both realized the same thing.

That wasn't their breathing.

And now—it was listening

The silence shattered.

"RUN!!!"

Karlos' voice ripped through the air, the sheer panic in his tone making Ethan's stomach drop.

There was no hesitation.

Ethan's legs moved before his mind caught up, his body screaming in protest as he forced himself into a sprint.

Karlos was already picking up speed, his boots slamming against the metal bridge.

Ethan was just behind him, his heart pounding like a war drum.

Then—the realization struck them.

They had been walking the wrong way.

And now, something knew.

Something had been waiting.

And it was coming for them.

They ran.

They ran like their lives depended on it.

Because this time—it did.

They ran.

For a while, nothing changed.

There were no footsteps behind them.

No roar. No impact.

Just the distant hum of the bridge, the pounding of their own hearts, and the overwhelming need to move faster.

But then—

Ethan glanced back.

And his blood turned ice.

At first, it was just darkness.

But then—eyes.

Two massive, glowing red orbs, piercing through the darkness.

The rest of it emerged slowly, shifting in the dim red light.

Ethan's breath caught in his throat.

It was a massive human-like figure, at least 30—maybe 35 meters tall.

And it was chasing them.

But it wasn't running like a human.

It was moving on all fours.

No—slithering.

Its body coiled and contorted in a way that shouldn't be possible, like a worm stretching and contracting. Its movements were unnatural, disturbing, making Ethan's stomach churn violently.

But the worst part—

The face.

It was human.

Recognizable, almost. But deformed beyond comprehension.

Twisted. Bloated. Stretched in ways that defied nature.

Rotting.

It looked like a human face forced onto a monster's body.

Ethan felt his chest tighten—a deep, primal terror gripping him.

Karlos hadn't looked back yet.

He didn't need to.

He could feel it.

And yet, there was no sound.

No footsteps. No growling.

Nothing.

Just the silent, relentless chase.

There was no time to speak.

No time to think.

This thing—it was fast.

Too fast.

It made Unguibus look slow in comparison.

And it was closing the distance.

Ethan's lungs burned. His legs screamed at him to stop, slow down—anything.

But he couldn't.

Not with that thing behind them.

Still—he was falling behind.

His breath came out in sharp, painful gasps, his ribs feeling like they were going to crack apart.

His hand clutched his side tightly, pressing against the spot where Unguibus had kicked him before.

A sharp, piercing pain shot through his body with each step.

If he exhaled too hard, his ribs felt like they would shatter.

But he couldn't stop.

He couldn't stop.

He forced himself to exhale shakily, barely managing to speak—

"Karlos...!!"

Ethan's voice was barely more than a ragged, desperate exhale.

The pain in his ribs was excruciating, every step feeling like a hammer slamming into his bones. His vision blurred, his breath came in sharp gasps, but he forced himself to call out.

Because he knew.

He wasn't going to make it.

Karlos heard him.

And the moment he did—he looked back.

First at Ethan.

Then at the monster.

And in that split second—

Disaster struck.

His foot caught something.

A metal bar.

His balance snapped.

"SHIT—!!"

His body slammed against the bridge.

The impact sent a sickening clang echoing through the air. His palms scraped against the rusted metal, his breath knocked from his lungs.

For a second, the world spun.

Ethan's eyes widened in horror.

And behind him—

The monster was closing in.

Ethan kept running.

He couldn't stop.

His body moved on instinct, his breath coming out in ragged, sharp exhales as the pain in his ribs burned like fire. But when he finally forced himself to slow down—

It was too late.

He turned—and saw.

Karlos was on the ground.

Fallen.

Vulnerable.

But that wasn't what froze Ethan in place.

It was Karlos' face.

The way he was staring at him.

Not yelling.

Not calling for help.

Just… staring.

Wide-eyed. Unblinking.

Mouth slightly open, like he wanted to say something—but didn't.

His expression was wrong.

Like he was already gone.

Like he had accepted it.

Ethan's stomach twisted violently.

"KARLOS—!!"

His voice barely reached him before—

The Vorator's hand wrapped around his leg.

Karlos' body lurched violently, a sickening crunch following as his leg caved in under the pressure.

His mouth twitched.

But he still didn't scream.

His hands gripped the metal, fingers curling in holding the bar tightly, trembling— desperately trying not to get pulled away by the Vorator.

But failed miserably.

And still, his eyes never left Ethan.

Not when the creature swung him into the bridge, the impact so violent it sent shockwaves through the metal.

Not when his limbs went limp, his body barely reacting to the pain anymore.

And not when the Vorator lifted him above its head.

Karlos' head hung slightly to the side now.

But his eyes…

His eyes were still locked on Ethan.

Ethan couldn't breathe.

Why was he still looking at him?

Why wouldn't he look away?

Was it fear?

Was he trying to tell him something?

Or—

Did he want Ethan to remember this moment forever?

And then—

Karlos was gone.

Swallowed whole.

His body slid into the creature's maw, disappearing into the abyss of its throat.

No struggle.

No final words.

Just the blood dripping from its mouth.

Ethan's breath shattered.

His vision blurred.

His hands curled into fists so tight, his nails cut into his palms.

And all he could do—

Was look.

Because no matter what he did—

No matter how hard he ran—

Karlos was dead.

And Ethan was alone.

The Vorator swallowed him whole.

Just like that—it was over.

No body.

No remains.

No evidence that Karlos Walker had ever existed.

Ethan's lungs shrank.

His mind screamed at him to move—react—breathe—

But he couldn't.

Because the monster—the thing that had just erased his best friend from existence—

Was turning away.

It didn't roar in victory.

It didn't thrash or hunt for another target.

It simply turned around.

Like this was routine.

Like this was just another meal.

Like Karlos' life meant nothing.

But then—

As the Vorator began to walk away…

It stopped.

Ethan's body locked up.

And then—

The creature looked back at him.

Not by turning its body.

Not by slowing its pace.

Its head twisted.

A full, unnatural 180-degree rotation.

The snap of its vertebrae cracked through the air, the movement unnervingly fast.

One second it was walking.

The next, its face was staring directly at him.

Ethan's blood turned to ice.

It didn't attack.

It didn't move toward him.

It just stared.

For an agonizing, suffocating moment, it burned its image into Ethan's mind.

And then—

Without a word, without a sound—

It turned its head back forward and walked away.

Disappearing into the darkness.

Like nothing had ever happened.

Like Karlos Walker had never been there at all.

Ethan staggered.

His breath hitched, a cold sweat clinging to his skin.

His body swayed as the silence of the bridge closed in around him.

And as the last trace of the Vorator vanished into the void—

The only thing left behind was emptiness.

And the realization that Karlos Walker was dead.

Ethan sat there.

Still.

His mind refused to catch up to what had just happened.

The weight of it—the sheer, unbearable weight of it—

Pressed down on him like gravity itself.

His fingers twitched, his arms swaying slightly like a ragdoll, like his body wasn't entirely his anymore.

Slowly—he got up.

But his legs felt hollow.

His chest felt empty.

His eyes—blank.

He was alone.

Completely.

Utterly.

Alone.

The rule book—the very thing Karlos almost died obtaining—

Gone.

Swallowed.

Vanished with him.

What a tragedy.

Karlos had risked his life for it. Nearly fell to his death for it.

And in the end—

That rule book was just a cursed piece of paper.

It meant nothing.

Because Karlos was dead.

And now—the bridge felt colder.

The red light overhead dimmed, flickering slightly.

The air was empty, suffocating.

Like the phase itself was telling him:

You're the only one left.