The chest gave a loud creak as Jean forced it open. The hinges groaned like it was in pain. Dust funneled out, catching in Jean's throat. Inside, a bed of clean velvet, was a purple crystal, veined with glowing blue streaks that pulsed. Slow yet hypnotic rhythm, like a heartbeat.
He coughed through the dust.
"Huh, this is it."
The system had yelled at him for hours, telling him to find this thing. He didn't understand what was so special about it. After all, this was the first time the system had ever pleaded for something.
Jean reached his hand into the chest.
The second his finger brushed against the crystal's surface, hot agony jumped up his arm. Flesh seared. The smell of burning skin felt disgusting. His fingers twitched as his muscle burned. But he didn't let go. Why...? Why does it want this?
He gritted his teeth, slamming the crystal into the socket of the forearm implant. The implant began to close up on the crystal. There was a disgusting squelch of the crystal fusing with the metal and flesh. The pain felt unbearable, like his arm was being seared off. He could feel his bones melting.
The metal plate began to glow a purplish blue. It then began to shatter like glass. The metal plate had vanished into thin air. Jean screamed and cried as his arm began to warp.
But then it suddenly stopped.
Jean blinked, slowly trying to process what happened.
His arm was no longer covered in a sheet of metal. Instead, embedded directly under his flesh was a crystal. Where tendon met bone was a crystal. It had burned into his skin. Blue lines ran from his wrist halfway to his elbow; they glowed. Like veins carved from light.
His breath got ragged.
"What the hell did I just—"
The world tilted before his eyes.
Suddenly he was falling through clouds. Air wisped past his ears. He was falling from the sky. He twisted, trying to find the ground. Every way he looked it was just endless sky, nothing but sky blue with clouds. Then—
THUD.
He had crashed into something. He didn't feel much pain. It was like he was dreaming... or was it a memory?
Jean gave out a loud groan, pushing himself to his feet. He then sighed.
He stood on... air? No, it seemed to be a thick transparent plane. It might have even been glass. Beneath, clouds wisped past him. Above, nothing.
Far onto the distant horizon: a castle floating in the sky. It could have been mistaken for the heavens. The air felt as if it was whispering to him, calling him.
He didn't take a step forward.
But then he felt something yank him forward, as if an invisible current of wind pulled him in. Within less than five seconds, he had traveled more than a mile. His body was hurling forward at an impossible speed.
He crashed through a stained-glass window. The glass sliced his arms and shoulders. His clothes torn, he tumbled downwards onto the castle floors—they seemed like nice marble. He coughed, half-naked and soaked in crimson-red blood.
He groaned again, lifting his head—
He froze, for what was in front of him was terrifying.
A figure stood at the end of the throne room, by a pedestal.
Humanoid, but disturbingly wrong. Horns curled from her head and shoulders. Her arms, long and unsightly. She glowed the same color as the crystal in his arm. A white headband covered her eyes, but horns came out from beneath the headband. But she didn't need them to see him.
She faced towards him. Silent. As if she was waiting for him to come.
Jean felt caught on his own throat.
He scrambled back onto his hands, the glass beneath him slicing him up in the process. He eventually landed on his rear.
"No... what the hell is that?"
His instincts were telling him to run.
He knew even if his entire squad were here, they would be slaughtered. Even if the whole village had tried to fight this thing, they would all die. It couldn't even be compared to a monster. This was something else entirely. It felt like a joke to call it a monster.
He stumbled up to his feet and ran towards the throne room doors, slamming against it, trying to open the door. "Open, dammit! Open!"
The door didn't even budge. He slowly turned around—but she wasn't there.
Jean flinched. She raised one clawed hand. She didn't seem to have any violent intentions, but her looks terrified Jean. She gently touched his shoulder. He couldn't even move an inch. Not out of paralysis. Out of fear.
She then opened her mouth and spoke."You weren't supposed to find it this soon."
Her voice seemed calm, almost sad and lonely.
"Who—what are you?" Jean gasped.
She tilted her head. "I'm like y... I was once human."
Jean's eyes narrowed onto her horns. "That's a joke."
"No," she said. "It's truth buried in rot."
She stepped back, giving him some time to think. He began to notice the throne room. It was the same as the one he found in the underwater cave. The same banners—but now it was vibrant. The tiles were the same, but they had color, uncracked. The air didn't taste salty. "This is the past," Jean whispered.
The monster—no, the woman—nodded. "You're standing in a memory. Yours... and not."
She began to walk toward him again.
Jean's eyes jumped to her arms. They were just like his—the glowing veins carved into her arms too. "That crystal. It's not... it's not magic, right?"
She smiled softly. "Does it truly matter? Magic is a science too, you know." She gave a small chuckle, believing he was joking.
"Yes!" Jean yelled, louder than he intended. "My arm's fused with it. My skin... it's not going to turn into yours, right?"
She took two steps forward.
And gently took his arm.
Jean tried to pull it back, but her grip was too strong—yet gentle.
Her fingers traced along the glowing veins that pulsed in his forearm. "It's beautiful," she mumbled. "Still docile... it really isn't fighting yet."
Jean's heart pounded. "What do you mean it's docile?"
She didn't answer. It was as if she was ignoring him.
Instead, she leaned in and whispered. "In my world, we called this the cure. For blindness. For missing limbs. For dying children. It is salvation. "Her words felt almost too cult-like. She smiled, but it felt too fake. "But the crystal doesn't heal. After all, what is there to heal when you're missing a limb? It changes. Adapts. You ask it to restore what's broken... and it does its work. But it decides how."
Jean clenched his fists. "So what happens next? I become like you? A monster?"
She let go of his arm and jumped backward, feeling almost offended. "Maybe. Maybe something worse."
Jean's legs felt weak. He wanted power—but at what cost? "I don't want this," he sighed. "I didn't ask for this."
She crouched down onto the pedestal. "It doesn't care. You should be grateful you can have it. Dying children begged for its help but never got it."
They both sat in silence for a moment. Then she said in a softer voice, "The more you fight it, the more violent the change becomes. But if you submit... you'll lose yourself."
Jean looked up at her as she sat on the pedestal. "So I'm screwed either way?"
She didn't respond again. "You might not change all at once. Your legs might go first. Then your spine. Something small, useful. But in the end, when you don't need anything, it will give you the most. You will find out in due time."
Jean's stomach clenched. "Will I look like you?"
She paused, but only for a moment. "I look like me. You'll look like you. If you are asking if you might turn into a monster... maybe you might look like me. Or even worse."
Jean didn't reply.
Her tone shifted. Cold, yet calculated.
"Tell me. When humans kill goblins who are starving and eat people, do you mourn the goblin?"
Jean questioned her. "What?"
"And if a goblin kills a human who hunts them, is the goblin evil?"
He shook his head, not grasping her conversation. "What does that have to do with anything we are talking about?"
She finally turned to face towards him. "Listen. I don't know how you will turn out. What you want and hate is subjective. From my perspective, I will never fully understand what you want. The crystal knows what you want and gives it to you."
"Huh?" Jean mumbled.
"Monsters are not born. They are created. Often by those too scared to become one. And you are too scared to become one."
Jean opened his mouth but couldn't utter a word to argue.
She stepped closer once again, placing her hand on his warm and alive cheek. Human. "I stopped thinking of myself as human a long time ago," she said. "I'm not sure what I am now, but I know that I am who I define myself as."
Then she walked back. "I'll see you again, Jean."
Her voice echoed in Jean's head.
The room began to crack. The walls peeled away. Clouds swirled in, as if it was being engulfed in a vortex.
Jean screamed—
He awoke.
The chest still lay open beside his tired body. The crystal was still embedded inside his forearm. It was now part of him.
He sat up quickly, breathing fast. The lines still glowed. He could feel something... moving underneath his skin.
Jean's heart sank with a thud. "What the hell did I get myself into..."