The last Darkcrawler's head hit the ground with a wet thud.
Rampage stood motionless, staring at the still-twitching corpse beneath him. Then, slowly, a smirk crept onto his face.
“Huh. Seems like Nigel and I share the same taste in executions,” he mused aloud. His tone was casual, almost amused—as if the massacre had been nothing more than an idle pastime.
He tilted his head.
“Still bothered by the name Rampage?” he asked.
No answer. Not that he expected one.
Nigel was buried deep—tucked away in the farthest, darkest corner of his own mind.
“Always falling asleep when things get interesting,” Rampage muttered with mock disappointment. “And, of course, leaving me to handle all the important work.”
His smirk faded. His crimson eyes burned.
“Enough of this. Let’s find the bastard who betrayed us and gut him.”
With inhuman speed, he launched himself forward, sprinting through the twisting veins of the cavern.
His senses sharpened. His mind honed in on one thing, and one thing only—James. Rampage could feel him.
His energy. His heartbeat. His fear. It pulsed faintly in the distance, a flickering light in the suffocating darkness.
Nigel had never been able to track like this—but Rampage wasn’t Nigel.
His blood boiled at the thought of finally tearing James apart.
Even though they were separate, he could still feel Nigel’s emotions—the same emotions he had carried his entire life.
The desperation. The fear. The rage.
It all burned within him, feeding him, making him stronger.
Then—
A single drop of liquid echoed in the distance, striking the cavern floor with a soft, unmistakable sound.
Rampage stopped instantly.
His head tilted slightly. A slow, wicked smile stretched across his lips.
“Found you.”
He surged forward, deeper into the cave.
The air grew thicker, heavier. The narrow tunnels widened into a vast, open chamber.
Before, the cavern had been dimly illuminated by small clusters of glowing stones—just enough to navigate through the shadows. But here? Here, there was nothing.
Pure darkness. Rampage didn’t need to see. He could feel it.
James was close.
Just as he prepared to lunge forward—
Something changed.
Footsteps. Not just one.
Multiple. Closing in.
Rampage grinned.
“Oh? Looks like we have company.”
A few meters ahead, Nyx, Sam, Dovak, William and Claire stood with tense postures.
To his left, Layla, Jin, Lars and Lawan formed a second line.
Too many.
He had to act fast.
“Nigel!” Nyx’s voice rang out as she activated a skill, dispersing the darkness around them in an instant.
The cavern flooded with light—not from a single source, but from every direction at once.
Everyone except Nyx and Sam gasped in horror at the sight before them.
Nigel—no, Rampage—stood drenched in blood. His clothes were shredded, his muscles so tightly coiled that his veins looked ready to burst. His eyes—wild, bloodshot, inhuman— burned under the light.
And worst of all—
His right arm was missing.
A terrible, bone-deep silence settled over the group.
Then, Rampage spoke.
“I’m not Nigel.”
His voice was eerily calm, but the venom beneath it was unmistakable.
His eyes locked onto a single figure.
“There he is,” he sneered. “The bastard who betrayed us.”
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He pointed at James.
The man had tried to flee, but he hadn’t made it far—Rampage’s restriction skill held him in place, his body frozen in mid-motion, trapped.
“Why…” Layla’s voice trembled. “Why have you done this?”
James couldn’t answer, but Rampage could.
“Edda is dead.”
The words cut through the air like a blade to the throat.
“A Darkcrawler ran her through while Nigel was paralyzed.”
Rampage’s entire body shook, veins pulsing, muscles twitching with barely contained fury.
Nyx took a careful step forward—
Only to freeze in place. All of them did.
Rampage extended his aura again, locking every last one of them in place.
Dovak gritted his teeth, struggling to move even an inch. “When the hell did he get this strong?!”
“Rampage!” Nyx’s voice held urgency. “Don’t do something you’ll regret!”
She talked as if she already knew him.
Rampage tilted his head slightly.
“Regret?” He let out a breathy chuckle, lifting his severed shoulder slightly.
“I exist to protect Nigel’s body and mind.” His voice was steady. Certain. “As you can see, I’ve already failed once.”
His smirk widened, his gaze sharpening.
“To fix that, I’ll kill the one responsible.”
“Please, no!” Layla pleaded. “Let us talk to him first!”
The others wanted to beg as well, but Rampage’s skill held them completely still—too weak to break free.
Rampage ignored them.
He turned slowly, stepping toward James, his movements eerily composed.
James’ eyes widened in sheer terror as Rampage knelt beside him.
Their gazes met.
Nigel’s face, but not Nigel’s eyes.
“Nigel might have given you a second chance.”
A slow smirk crept across his lips.
“But I’m not him.”
Rampage placed an open palm on James’ chest.
He whispered the name of the skill.
“Internal Death.”
At first, nothing happened.
Then—
James' body convulsed violently.
No scream left his lips. He couldn’t scream.
Blood poured from his mouth, his nose, his ears, his eyes—thick and unstoppable.
His entire insides collapsed in on themselves, his organs rupturing from the inside out.
He fell to the floor, lifeless.
Rampage exhaled, watching the crimson pool spread beneath him.
Then, he smirked.
“Heh. Nigel hates saying skill names.” He stood up, stretching his fingers. “I love it.”
Rampage turned back toward the frozen group.
His scarlet gaze swept over them, a twisted amusement playing at the edge of his lips.
“In my defense, I was planning to gut him,” he admitted, shrugging. “But I gave him a painless death instead.” His smirk widened. “Didn’t even feel a thing…. probably”
The restriction skill dissipated.
But no one moved.
Not a single breath was taken too loudly.
Rampage let the silence linger, then spoke once more.
“Consider this a warning.”
His voice dropped lower, colder.
“If any of you ever become a threat to Nigel, you’ll suffer the same fate.”
His lips curled slightly.
“Or worse. Depends on my mood.”
He winked.
Then—his body collapsed.
His severed shoulder burst open, fresh blood gushing from the wound. His skin swelled unnaturally, his body struggling to contain the aftermath of his own power.
The cavern remained deathly silent.
Until finally, someone—anyone—managed to breathe.
“Nigel!”
Nyx and Dovak rushed forward, grabbing him before his body collapsed completely.
His skin was cold, his breathing shallow and ragged. Blood—mostly dry but still thick—covered him from head to toe. His torn clothes barely clung to his battered body, revealing deep bruises, fresh lacerations, and swelling that distorted his features.
Dovak’s voice was sharp with urgency. “What the hell just happened?”
Nyx’s expression was grim. “I… didn’t think this would happen.”
She hesitated, glancing down at Nigel’s unconscious form.
“That… wasn’t him. It was Rampage. Something—or someone—inside his body. A different identity. An alter, maybe. I don’t know.” She exhaled. “It’s the second time I’ve seen it happen.”
Dovak’s brows furrowed. “What the hell does that mean?”
Nyx shook her head. “I can’t say more. It’s not my story to tell.”
Dovak let out a frustrated breath, but after a moment, he nodded.
“…Fine. I get it.”
With careful hands, he pulled out several cloths from his inventory, using them to wipe away the caked blood on Nigel’s face.
The more blood they removed, the clearer the damage became—his features were swollen, his skin marred with deep gashes and fresh bruises.
Nyx pressed down on Nigel’s shoulder, trying to slow the bleeding. She bit her lip, her mind racing.
How the hell did he lose his arm?
Before she could process the thought, Claire suddenly knelt beside them.
Without a word, she pulled a small stone from her pocket. A soft glow emanated from her fingers as she activated a skill—the stone shifted, morphing, reshaping itself into a small, circular device.
Nyx blinked. “What… is that?”
Claire didn’t answer.
Instead, she pressed the device directly onto Nigel’s severed shoulder.
The moment it latched onto his flesh, Nigel’s eyes snapped open.
A guttural, agonized scream tore from his throat.
His entire body arched violently, his muscles spasming under the sheer force of the pain—
Then, as quickly as it came, his consciousness snapped again, his body falling limp.
Nyx stared, wide-eyed. “What the hell was that?!”
Claire, unfazed, watched the device settle against his skin before answering.
“It cauterizes the wound and links to his nervous system.”
Her voice was flat, purely clinical. “Same thing I use for my exoskeleton.”
Nyx’s frown deepened. “Why the hell would it need to connect to his nervous system?”
Claire finally met her gaze.
“So that if he ever finds someone who can build it,” she said simply, “he can get a bionic arm.”
Her eyes flicked back to Nigel’s unconscious form.
“If I’d waited too long, the nerves in his shoulder and upper spine would’ve deteriorated. It would’ve been too late.”
Nyx shifted uncomfortably. “…Well. Thanks, I guess?”
Claire didn’t acknowledge the gratitude. She just stood up, brushing the dust off her hands.
As the group finished tending to Nigel, Dovak turned, spotting William sitting up nearby—disoriented but awake.
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Alright, kid. Let’s get you caught up.”
“Ugh… my head’s killing me.”
William groaned as he pushed himself upright, still disoriented. His vision swam for a moment before settling.
“…What the hell happened?” He rubbed his temples, his gaze landing on Nigel—unconscious, bloodied, cradled in Nyx’s arms.
Dovak sighed.
“You collapsed the moment Nigel unleashed his skill. It seems it was too much for you to handle.”
His chest tightened.
“What happened to Nigel?”
“Honestly? No idea. After James betrayed us, it looks like Nigel and Edda fell together… then got attacked by the Darkcrawlers,” then Dovak paused for a second to catch his breath. “And we just found James and we were about to interrogate him, but he appeared from nowhere and blasted him with some weird skill that killed him on the spot. End of the story.”
William stiffened.
“…Oh.”
He didn’t need any more details.
The answer was clear enough.
His fingers curled into a fist. Edda was gone. James was killed by Nigel.
Simple. Blunt. Almost casual.
But William didn’t miss the way Dovak avoided his gaze.
His eyes shifted back to Nigel’s unconscious form. Still. Bloodstained. Missing an arm.
He thought of everything they had already endured.
And this was only the Second Stage.
Murder. Betrayal. Death. Pain.
It had all happened in weeks. Not months. Not years.
Weeks.
The Chaos Tournament had earned its name.
And this was only the beginning.
A heavy weight settled in William’s chest.
What would become of them?
Would they make it through this together—survive long enough to reach their goal?
…Or would they meet a gruesome end before they even got close?
The future stretched before him, an endless abyss of uncertainty.
William wasn’t sure if they would all make it out alive.
