Aiden's grip on the caravan owner's throat loosened.
But something's not right.
As aiden pulled back his arm.
A chilling realization blossomed in the sudden void where his right arm should have been.
It was gone. Not numb, not asleep, but utterly, terrifyingly absent.
He stumbled back, a choked gasp dying in his throat as the caravan owner slowly, impossibly, turned.
The man's face, moments ago purple and contorted, was now a canvas of blood.
His mouth stretched wide in a grotesque rictus.
And cradled within that crimson maw, dripping and mangled, was Aiden's arm.
Before the horror could fully register, the caravan owner's stomach exploded.
A wet, tearing sound, followed by a sickening thud as a mass of pulsing flesh erupted from within.
A thick, whip-like tentacle, slick with viscous fluid, shot out with terrifying speed, aiming for Aiden's chest.
He reacted on instinct, a desperate lurch to the side, but it wasn't enough. The tentacle cracked against his ribs with the force of a battering ram, a searing pain that stole his breath and sent him sprawling.
Aiden lay there, gasping, the world spiraling into a haze of agony.
The whip-like mark across his side pulsed with fire, and a cold dread seeped into his bones.
His ribs felt shattered, each breath a fresh torment, and the phantom ache of his missing arm clawed at him, a constant, sickening reminder of his dismemberment.
Dying felt like an imminent, merciful escape.
He pushed himself up, every muscle screaming in protest, and tried to run.
But the tentacle, impossibly swift, lashed out again, piercing his stomach with brutal efficiency.
A sharp, unbearable pain ripped through him, and he cried out, a guttural sound of despair.
He was yanked forward, his limp body dragged across the dusty ground, until he lay crumpled at the feet of the monstrosity that had once been a man.
The caravan owner was utterly transformed.
His eyes were pits of obsidian, devoid of any light or humanity.
His mouth and jaw were grotesquely distended, a gaping maw of twisted flesh.
More limbs, chitinous and segmented, sprouted from his sides, making him a nightmarish centipede of a creature.
Easily ten feet long. He reached down, his new, clawed hand closing around Aiden's inert form, lifting him effortlessly.
"You messed up big time trying to kill me,"
the creature hissed, its voice a guttural rasp that scraped against Aiden's eardrums.
The menace in its tone was absolute, promising an end far more terrifying than a simple death.