Rick stood in the center of the broken street, blood trickling from his forehead down to his chin, dripping lazily onto the cracked pavement beneath his boots. The air was thick, vibrating with tension so dense it was almost suffocating. The ground itself seemed to pulse under his feet as if the earth knew what was coming and trembled in anticipation. His chest rose and fell in steady rhythm, each breath measured, his eyes locked onto the figures emerging from the far end of the street.
Twenty beasts.
Their bodies were a grotesque mixture of flesh and shimmering blue scales, and though each one was shaped differently—some with elongated arms, others with tusks or tails—they shared one common feature: the cold, mechanical glow of their eyes. Those glowing eyes fixed on Rick with an emotionless intensity that felt worse than hatred.
The lead beast, larger than the rest and carrying itself like some self-appointed executioner, stepped forward. Its voice boomed across the shattered city.
"RICK MORRIS. YOU HAVE BEEN SENTENCED TO DEATH. NOW ACCEPT YOUR FATE."
Rick blinked, almost confused for a moment, then smirked. "I'm honored you think so highly of me," he said, voice laced with dark humor. "That you sent twenty beasts just for me. Really warms my heart. Now can we skip the pleasantries?" He tilted his head, a grin spreading across his face—wild, unrestrained. "Let's battle."
With that, he uncapped the Quill.
The moment the seal broke, the weapon exhaled a sinister hum, dark energy swirling around it like a storm about to devour the sky. The beasts took a step back instinctively before tightening formation. For a second, no one moved. Then, as if a signal had been given, they all charged at once.
The ground split beneath their stampede. The wind screamed as they closed the distance. Rick steadied his stance and lifted the Quill, black lightning arcing across its blade.
Far across the continent, in twenty other cities, similar beasts had emerged from portals. Panic spread like wildfire. Sirens blared. People screamed. Buildings crumbled. Governments fell into chaos. Yet the beasts, despite being scattered across multiple locations, seemed fixated on one direction—the direction of the city where Rick stood.
And then, as if responding to a call only they could hear, ten of the twenty beasts from other cities turned and vanished into their own portals—heading straight for him.
Boom.
A deafening explosion shook the city as the first clash began. Rick's laughter echoed through the smoke and debris—unhinged, raw, almost demonic. His body was battered, a tiny hole pierced clean through his forehead, blood pouring freely, yet he was still alive. His grin widened as he wiped the blood away with the back of his hand.
"Damn it," he muttered. "More of these filthy creatures are coming." He looked around at the advancing beasts. "I can't fight them all… twenty's already pushing my limit."
He steadied his breathing, eyes narrowing as the Quill pulsed in his hand like a living heart. "I'll have to end this fast and escape."
He lunged forward, the Quill slicing the air with deadly precision. One of the beasts met his charge head-on, claws extended. Rick drove the weapon straight toward its chest—but before the blade could pierce, its body flared with an electric blue glow. The attack dispersed like smoke in the wind.
Rick's brow twitched. "How annoying."
That blue light—he had seen it before. It acted like an automatic defense, neutralizing any attack that exceeded the beast's power level. And if an attack fell below that threshold, their bodies were so tough it might as well have been striking solid stone. Every offensive move he made, no matter how creative, seemed to end the same way: wasted effort.
He darted backward just in time to avoid being surrounded, his boots skidding across the ground, sparks flying from the friction. His chest heaved as he spat blood, glaring at the beasts advancing on him in perfect unison.
"Annoying bastards," he hissed under his breath. "They can't even throw proper punches. If they could, I'd already be dead."
Still, their sheer durability was infuriating. His every strike barely scratched them, and every counterattack drove him closer to exhaustion. Worse, his instincts screamed that something else—something worse—was on its way.
By his estimate, the other creatures from across the continent would converge on his position within twenty minutes. Maybe less.
"Fuck!" he roared, fury mixing with desperation. He launched himself forward again, this time moving with reckless abandon. "If I can't kill them rationally," he muttered, "then I'll stop being rational."
He closed his eyes briefly and surrendered part of himself.
The Quill responded immediately, black tendrils of energy wrapping around his arm, crawling up his neck, seeping into his veins. His pupils dilated, and his breathing grew erratic. The line between man and weapon blurred. He could feel it—the Quill taking control.
Now he was no longer Rick Morris, the human. He was the Quill's vessel.
His next punch landed squarely on a beast's face. This time, no blue aura appeared. The impact cracked its skull, sending it staggering backward, roaring in pain. Rick lunged after it, but another set of claws intercepted him, slashing across his shoulder. He ignored the pain and twisted midair, countering with a wide arc that sliced open another creature's arm.
Inside his head, two voices clashed like thunder.
"MOTHERFUCKER, GIVE ME MY BODY BACK!" Rick screamed internally.
"Huh? Are you mad?" the Quill's voice sneered, calm yet mocking. "Wasn't it you who handed control to me willingly?"
"That was before I figured out how to bypass their damn blue aura!"
"Well, sorry," the Quill chuckled darkly. "Too late for regrets now. We can continue this discussion after the fight—assuming we're still alive by then. Though with your sloppy fighting style, I'd say that's unlikely."
"Shut the hell up."
"Ha! You're funny when you're angry," the Quill teased.
The argument echoed in his skull even as his body moved with inhuman speed. Outside, the battle intensified. Beasts crashed through buildings. Cars flipped through the air. The entire city had become a warzone.
Rick tore through two of the creatures, his movements erratic yet devastating. The Quill's energy devoured him from the inside out. His veins pulsed black; his eyes glowed with crimson light. Bloodlust radiated from him like heat.
And then the sky above him tore open.
Dozens of portals blinked into existence, stretching across the clouds like wounds in the air. Out of them poured more monsters—hundreds this time. Their bodies shimmered with the same unnatural blue light, their faces all twisted in the same cold expression of purpose.
Rick froze for a fraction of a second, tilting his head upward as the first of the new beasts landed before him, cracking the ground with the force of its descent.
More followed. Ten. Twenty. Fifty. A hundred.
All of them stared directly at him.
Inside his mind, even the Quill fell silent.
"Well," it finally said, voice low, "looks like our audience has arrived."
Rick's lips curled into a dangerous smile. His blood-streaked face made the expression look almost demonic.
The monsters moved in eerie synchronization, their collective voice booming through the ruins, vibrating the air itself.
"RICK MORRIS," they chanted as one. "ACCEPT YOUR FATE. ACCEPT YOUR DEATH."
The chorus was deafening. It echoed from every direction, filling the city with an oppressive rhythm. Dust and broken glass danced along the ground from the sheer force of their unified roar.
Rick rolled his shoulders, his knuckles tightening around the Quill's handle. He felt his heart hammer against his ribs, each beat like a drum of defiance.
He could sense it—the thin thread of life still clinging to him, burning hotter with every breath. The Quill's voice murmured in his head, almost admiring.
"Do you understand now?" it said. "You're not meant to survive this. You were chosen to burn bright before being erased. That's what you and I are. A weapon. A curse. Nothing more."
Rick smirked. "A curse, huh?" He spat blood and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Then I'll be the curse that kills you all."
He raised the Quill high, the weapon trembling as if eager for the carnage to come. The black energy spiraled upward, slicing through the clouds and splitting the sky in half.
The monsters tensed, their blue light pulsing brighter. The ground cracked, the air thickened, and for a long heartbeat, everything was still.
Then, the lead beast—the same one that had spoken first—stepped forward again, pointing a massive claw at him.
"YOU CANNOT ESCAPE," it said. "YOUR EXISTENCE IS A THREAT. THE ORDER HAS DECREED YOUR END."
Rick's grin widened until it almost split his face. His pupils shrank to pinpoints as he whispered, "You talk too much."
His aura flared, black lightning wrapping his body like a cloak. The beasts' blue lights answered in defiance, illuminating the entire city in a chaotic clash of colors—blue and black fighting for dominance.
The Quill whispered in his head, voice trembling with exhilaration. "So this is what it feels like… the edge between power and death."
Rick chuckled lowly, almost tenderly. "Then let's fall together."
He took a single step forward, cracked his neck, and stared at the horde of monsters that had come to end him. His body was shaking, but not from fear—from anticipation.
They all moved as one, the ground exploding beneath their charge, their unified roar shaking the heavens.
Rick stood his ground, Quill glowing with dark energy, his lips curving into a smile so sharp it looked like madness given form.
And as the storm of monsters descended upon him, Rick spoke—his voice calm, fearless, unyielding.
"Then come give it to me."