Crimson & Light: Starting Over In A World Isn't As Easy As It Seems

The corridor trembled with the force of the battle, each clash of red and green light sending cracks spiderwebbing across the walls. The once-contained storm within Changra was spilling over, his strikes growing more erratic, more brutal. The Crimson Dagger pulsed with an almost blinding light now, its hum resonating with every step he took.

Envy dodged another wild swing, her laughter echoing through the chaos. "Look at you," she taunted, her voice sharp and mocking. "You're not even fighting me anymore—you're fighting yourself."

Changra's face was a mask of rage, his breathing labored, his muscles burning with exhaustion. His movements were still fast, almost inhumanly so, but they lacked precision. Each swing of the dagger was wild and heavy, the force behind it threatening to tear him apart as much as it aimed to destroy her.

Focus, he thought, his inner voice trembling. I can still stop this. I can still—

But the thought faltered, his mind clouded by the weapon's insidious whispers. They weren't words, not at first, just an unrelenting pressure, a dark force coiling around his thoughts. It grew louder with each passing moment, drowning out everything else.

"You're nothing without me," the voice of the dagger hissed, slithering through his mind like poison. "Let me guide you. Let me show you what true power is."

"No…" Changra muttered, his voice barely audible. His grip on the dagger tightened, the red glow flaring brighter. "I can control this. I won't let you—"

The voice cut him off, its tone cold and commanding. "You already have. You're mine now, Changra."

Envy's twisted smile widened as she watched him falter, her glowing eyes gleaming with triumph. "What's the matter, Changra?" she asked, her tone dripping with mockery. "Having a little identity crisis?"

Changra lunged at her, the dagger slicing through the air with deadly intent. The weapon's glow flared with each swing, the hum growing into a deafening roar that filled the corridor. Envy blocked and dodged, her movements fluid and precise, her staff crackling with green energy as she parried his attacks.

But there was no rhythm to his strikes, no strategy. Each swing was wild, fueled by rage and desperation, and Envy exploited every opening. She ducked under a particularly wide arc, her staff slamming into his side and sending him stumbling back.

"You're pathetic," she sneered, her voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. "You're not even fighting me anymore. You're just swinging that stupid dagger around, hoping it'll do the work for you."

Changra growled, his voice low and guttural. "Shut up," he spat, though it wasn't clear if the words were meant for her or the dagger—or both.

"Changra, stop!" Jane's voice rang out, trembling and desperate. She stepped forward, her hands outstretched, her eyes pleading. "You're losing yourself! Please, don't let it take you!"

But her words barely registered. Changra's gaze didn't waver from Envy, his grip on the dagger tightening as the weapon's voice grew louder in his mind.

"She doesn't matter," the voice hissed, cold and commanding. "None of them do. Focus on the enemy. Destroy her."

Changra hesitated for the briefest moment, his hand trembling as the weapon pulsed in his grip. This isn't me. I can stop this. I have to stop this.

But the voice came again, sharper this time, cutting through his thoughts like a knife. "You're weak. Useless. Let me take over. Let me show you what you can truly be."

And then, it wasn't just in his mind anymore.

"Let me show you what we can truly be," the voice said, spilling from his lips. It wasn't his voice—not entirely. It was deeper, colder, filled with malice and power. It echoed through the corridor, reverberating off the stone walls.

Envy's smile faltered, her glowing eyes narrowing as she stepped back. "Well, that's new," she said, her voice tinged with unease. "Finally letting the monster out, Changra?"

Changra's body moved, but it wasn't him anymore. His strikes were faster, more precise, the dagger moving with an almost predatory grace. The weapon's hum had turned into a roar, its crimson glow consuming the corridor, casting everything in a blood-red light.

Jane's voice broke through the chaos again, trembling and desperate. "Changra, stop! Please! This isn't you!"

But Changra didn't respond. His body lunged forward, the dagger slicing through the air with deadly precision. Envy barely managed to deflect the blow, her staff cracking under the force of the impact. She stumbled back, her expression twisting into one of genuine fear.

"You see now," the voice said, cold and unrelenting, spilling from Changra's lips. "You were never strong enough to face me. None of you are."

Envy's smile returned, though it was smaller now, more strained. "Is that so?" she said, her voice wavering slightly. "Then come on, let's see what you've got."

The fight continued, but it wasn't Changra fighting anymore. It was the dagger, its power consuming him, guiding his every move. And for the first time, even Envy seemed unsure if she could win.

The corridor trembled with the sheer force of the clash. Red and green light filled the space, each burst of power pushing the very walls to their breaking point. But it was clear now—Changra, or whatever the dagger had turned him into, was gaining the upper hand. His strikes came faster, heavier, and more precise, driving Envy back with every swing.

Envy stumbled, her staff trembling under the weight of his relentless assault. Her mocking laughter was gone now, replaced by a shaky, bitter smile. "So this is what it's like," she muttered, her voice tinged with disbelief. "This is what it's like to be you."

Changra didn't respond—not in his voice, at least. The dagger spoke for him, its tone cold and mocking. "Pathetic," it said, the word slicing through the air like a blade. "You never stood a chance."

Envy's hands shook, her green glow flickering as she tried to steady herself. Her eyes darted between the dagger and Changra's face, as though searching for the person she knew. But there was no trace of him, only the weapon's crimson light reflected in his glowing eyes.

"You're… special," she spat, her voice trembling. Her smile twisted into something dark and resentful. "You've always been special, haven't you? The chosen one, the one everyone looks up to."

She raised her staff, sending a desperate burst of magic toward him. The red light of the dagger flared, deflecting the attack effortlessly. Changra lunged forward, the blade slicing through the air, forcing Envy to retreat further.

"Why?" she shouted, her voice rising with desperation. "Why is it always you? Why does everyone look at you like you're something amazing, like you're worth something?"

Changra's strikes grew fiercer, his movements fluid and unrelenting. Envy's staff cracked under the force of another blow, her footing slipping as she staggered back. The green glow around her dimmed further, her once-untouchable confidence crumbling with every step.

"You don't deserve it!" she cried, her voice breaking. Tears streamed down her face, though her twisted smile remained. "You don't deserve any of it! The strength, the power, the friends—why do you have it all?"

The dagger spoke again, its voice dripping with disdain. "Because he's better than you. Because you're nothing."

"Shut up!" Envy screamed, her voice trembling with both anger and anguish. She swung her staff wildly, her movements losing their precision. The red glow of the dagger flared brighter, Changra's body moving with a terrifying grace as he dodged and countered with brutal efficiency.

Her strikes faltered, her magic growing weaker. She raised her staff again, but Changra's blade was faster, slamming into it with a force that shattered the weapon into pieces. Envy gasped, her eyes wide as she stumbled back, her hands trembling.

"Why him?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Why does he get to be strong? Why does he get to be liked? Why does he… why does he love her?"

Changra's steps were slow, deliberate, as he closed the distance between them. The dagger pulsed in his hand, its hum resonating with a deep, menacing power. The weapon's voice filled the air once more, cold and unyielding. "Because you're weak. Because you're nothing more than envy."

Envy's shoulders shook, her glowing eyes dimming as tears streamed down her face. "I hate you," she said, her voice trembling with a mix of rage and sorrow. "I hate you so much, Changra."

But even as the words left her lips, there was no venom in them—only pain.

Envy stumbled backward, her green glow flickering like a dying flame. The shattered remnants of her staff lay scattered across the floor, her once-commanding presence reduced to a trembling, desperate figure. Changra advanced slowly, the Crimson Dagger pulsing with a malevolent light in his hand. His lips curled into a smile—a smile devoid of warmth, one filled with something far darker.

"You wanted to see what I could do, didn't you?" Changra said, though the voice wasn't entirely his. It was deeper, colder, tinged with the dagger's sinister influence. "You wanted to see how strong I could be."

Envy tried to retreat, her legs shaking beneath her. She raised a trembling hand, weakly summoning a flicker of green energy to defend herself, but it sputtered out before it could form. "Stay… back," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Changra laughed, the sound sharp and unnerving. "Why? You're not having fun anymore?" He lunged forward, the dagger slicing through the air with precision. The blade caught her thigh, crimson streaking down her leg as she cried out in pain.

She fell to her knees, clutching at the wound, her glowing eyes wide with a mixture of fear and disbelief. "Changra…" she gasped, her voice trembling.

He tilted his head, his smile widening as he stepped closer. "What's wrong, Envy? I thought you liked watching people suffer. Isn't that what you wanted?"

He swung the dagger again, the blade carving a shallow line across her arm. She screamed, her voice echoing through the corridor, but Changra only laughed harder, his movements growing more deliberate, more calculated.

"This is your fault," he said, his voice soft but laced with malice. "You wanted to bring out the monster, didn't you? Well, here it is."

"Changra, stop!" Jane's voice cut through the chaos, trembling with desperation. She stepped forward, her hands raised, tears streaming down her face. "This isn't you! Please, stop this!"

Changra's smile faltered for a fraction of a second, his gaze flickering toward her. But the dagger pulsed in his hand, its voice drowning out any semblance of reason. "She doesn't matter," the blade hissed, its words spilling from Changra's lips. "Stay out of the way."

Jane took another step forward, her voice breaking. "I won't let you do this! You're better than this, Changra!"

Something in her words seemed to strike him, his movements slowing for a moment as his gaze met hers. For the briefest instant, there was something human in his eyes—something vulnerable. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared.

"Better?" he said, his tone mocking. "You think I'm better?" His laughter returned, hollow and bitter. "Let me show you how wrong you are."

With a sudden burst of speed, he turned toward her, his free hand glowing faintly with the dagger's crimson energy. Before she could react, he slammed his palm into her chest, sending her flying backward. Jane cried out as she hit the ground hard, her body skidding to a stop against the wall. She groaned, clutching her side as she struggled to sit up.

"Stay out of this," Changra said, his voice devoid of emotion. "This has nothing to do with you."

Jane's eyes brimmed with tears as she looked up at him, her voice trembling. "Changra… please…"

But he didn't respond. His gaze was already back on Envy, his smile returning as he took another step toward her. She tried to crawl away, her body trembling with pain, but Changra moved faster, the dagger glinting in the dim light as he swung it again.

The blade carved a shallow line across her stomach, blood staining her torn robes. She cried out again, her voice hoarse and filled with anguish. "Please…" she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Stop…"

But Changra only laughed, the sound cold and unrelenting. "Why should I?" he said, his tone almost playful. "You wanted this, didn't you? You wanted to feel what it's like."

He crouched down in front of her, his glowing red eyes boring into hers. "Well, now you know."

Changra stood over Envy, his eyes glowing an unnatural crimson, the Crimson Dagger humming with malicious glee. His smile widened as he raised the blade, its edge catching the faint light of the corridor. Envy lay crumpled on the ground, her once-vivid green glow now dim, her body trembling with pain.

"Let's see how far you can crawl," Changra said, his voice a twisted blend of malice and mockery. He brought the dagger down with precise brutality, severing one of her arms with a sickening crack. Her scream echoed through the corridor, raw and unrelenting.

Jane watched in horror from where she lay against the wall, her voice trembling as she tried to call out. "Changra, stop! Please, stop this!" But her words were drowned out by Envy's cries and the relentless hum of the dagger.

Changra tilted his head, his expression almost childlike in its amusement. "What's the matter, Envy? You wanted to feel pain, didn't you? Isn't this what you wanted?"

He knelt beside her, his movements slow and deliberate, savoring every moment. His free hand reached for her leg, the crimson glow spreading across his fingers as he gripped it tightly. "Let's take this one next," he said, his tone disturbingly light.

Envy's eyes, wide with terror and agony, flickered faintly. For a brief moment, her expression shifted, the malice fading into something softer, more human. "Please…" she whispered, her voice trembling. "Changra… stop…"

But Changra didn't stop. He raised the dagger again, its glow intensifying as it hummed with anticipation. "Begging won't help you now," he said, his voice cold and unyielding.

Before he could strike, a blinding flash of light filled the corridor, accompanied by a thunderous crack. Changra froze mid-swing, his body rigid as if held by an invisible force. His eyes darted wildly, the crimson glow flickering as he struggled to move.

From the shadows, Merrick staggered forward, his sword in one hand, the other outstretched as faint remnants of magic shimmered around him. His face was pale, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, but his eyes burned with determination. "That's enough, Changra," he said, his voice hoarse but commanding.

Changra growled, his voice low and guttural, as he fought against the spell. "Let me go," he snarled, though it wasn't entirely his voice. The dagger's influence was still present, its tone bleeding into his words. "She deserves this."

"No," Merrick said firmly, stepping closer despite his evident pain. "This isn't you, Changra. You need to stop."

Envy, still trembling and bleeding on the ground, took the opportunity to move. She crawled weakly, her remaining arm dragging her along as she tried to put as much distance as possible between herself and Changra.

As she moved, her form flickered. The green glow around her dimmed further, and for the briefest moments, it was no longer Envy on the ground—it was Berethia. Her face, pale and tear-streaked, turned toward Changra and Merrick, her eyes filled with sorrow and pain.

"I'm sorry…" she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I never… wanted this."

The green light surged again, Envy's twisted features returning as she stumbled to her feet. Her gaze flickered between Changra and Merrick, her expression a mixture of fear and hatred. "This isn't over," she spat, though her voice wavered. "You'll see."

With a final burst of green energy, she disappeared into the shadows, her form flickering one last time. For a brief moment, the faint silhouette of Berethia lingered in the air, her tear-filled eyes meeting Changra's before fading completely.

The corridor fell silent, the echoes of the battle fading into nothingness. Changra remained frozen, his body trembling as the spell held him in place. The dagger's glow dimmed slightly, though its hum continued, a quiet but persistent reminder of its presence.

Merrick lowered his hand, his body sagging with exhaustion. He turned to Changra, his expression heavy with a mix of sadness and resolve. "You're better than this, Changra," he said softly. "You have to be."