The world Clive entered this time resembled nothing he had ever experienced before.
There was no dark forest.No stone corridors.No smell of fresh blood or echoes of monster footsteps.
There was only a current.
He felt as though he was falling, not into space, but into a violent and endless stream of memories. His consciousness was dragged along, twisted, forced to follow the flow of experiences that did not belong to him.
And when he tried to find his footing, he realized something that left his chest feeling hollow.
He was not Clive.
He was a black-furred creature that lived in the third corridor.
The monster had no name. It had never needed one. Since its birth in darkness, the world had been divided into only three simple things that governed every heartbeat and every breath.
Hunger.Fear.Rage.
Clive did not merely see the monster's memories.He lived them.
He felt the weight of a low, compact body, powerful muscles that were constantly tense. One of its legs had once been caught in a metal trap made by humans. The pain was still vivid, sharp and cruel. The shinbone had snapped, piercing through flesh from the inside. Though it eventually healed, it grew crooked. Every time the monster ran, there was a constant sense of imbalance, as if the world were always slightly tilted.
That injury had prevented it from hunting for nearly a week.
Clive felt the hunger gnawing at it, not as an empty stomach, but as terror. The body weakened, senses dulled, and every shadow in the darkness felt like a threat ready to strike.
He also felt brutal joy.
When the monster finally succeeded in killing a rival. Another monster that had dared to enter its territory. Warm blood flowed into its mouth, metallic and salty, yet satisfying. There was a deep, primal sense of fulfillment, not born of hatred, but of victory.
I live.I win.I still exist.
Loneliness wrapped around every corner of the corridor. There were no companions. No social hierarchy. Only enemies and prey. Darkness was the only home, and silence was broken only by the sound of its own breathing or the movement of something too close.
The monster's desires were simple and absolute.
Live.Eat.Survive.
Clive did not resist the memories.
He did not try to sever the current, did not force emotional distance, and did not reject the pain or satisfaction that came with it. He opened himself, like reading someone else's book, absorbing every page without drowning in it.
He understood, without justifying.
He saw the world through the monster's senses. Colors were duller, almost gray. Smell was the primary language, more important than sight. The sound of small footsteps in the distance could mean death or dinner.
And one realization emerged, clear and cold.
To this monster, humans were not invaders.Not enemies to be hated.Not symbols of evil.
Humans were a threat, yes.But also a source of food.Just like other monsters.
There was no ideological hatred.Only the logic of predator and prey.
The core responded to Clive's acceptance.
The blue energy no longer surged wildly. It flowed in smoothly, like a river finding its estuary. There was no clash of wills, no resistance. Clive felt his body change, growing stronger, denser. His senses sharpened, his muscles compacted, his bones hardened.
The process was too smooth.
And precisely because of that, danger appeared.
*******
Within Clive's body, far beneath the surface of conscious thought, there existed a dark space without physical form. This was where the first core resided.
The core of the small monster whose will he had once shattered.
It was not completely dead. What remained was only an echo of will, a shadow of something that had once lived and desired power. Weak, but still aware.
And now, that echo trembled.
New energy was entering territory it had long considered its own. A territory it occupied not because it had won, but because Clive had allowed it to remain.
At the same time, the second core, the newly absorbed black-furred monster, also became aware of another presence.
Two wills that had once lived.Two predators.Two beings that understood the same language without words.
The language of territory.The language of domination.The language of power.
Within Clive's consciousness, two silhouettes took shape.
The first was small, translucent, almost like mist forming a figure. Its eyes were still sharp, cunning, filled with calculation. It had once been an intelligent hunter, despite its small body.
The second was large and solid. Its black fur seemed to absorb the surrounding light. Its eyes were blood red, filled with rage unfiltered by logic or fear of consequence.
They did not attack Clive.
They attacked each other.
This is my body, hissed the small monster, its voice like a snake coiling inside the mind.
This body belongs to the strong, the black-furred monster replied, its growl echoing like collapsing stone.
The collision of wills struck Clive from within.
His body convulsed violently in the real world. His back arched, muscles tightening beyond control. His bones felt as if they were being pulled in opposite directions. Joints cracked, and pain stabbed through him, reaching behind his eyes.
He was half conscious, aware enough to grasp a horrifying truth.
Two cores could not coexist peacefully in one body.They were not merely energy.They were separate wills.
And wills would always go to war.
Outside, Zorilla stepped forward when he saw Clive collapse and convulse, but Dilos immediately raised a hand to stop him.
"Wait," he said firmly. "This is an internal battle. We cannot interfere."
Glenn closed his eyes, sensing the chaotic flow of energy. His expression tightened. "There are two wills inside him. They're fighting. And Clive is caught in the middle."
*******
Inside Clive's consciousness, the battle grew more brutal.
There was no floor. No sky. Only a dark space pulsing in rhythm with his own heartbeat. Each clash of will felt like a direct shock to his nerves, spreading from his head to the tips of his fingers.
The black-furred monster dominated the space with raw power.
It did not think. It struck.
Its shadowy body grew larger and harder with every attack, energy claws slamming down without clear direction, driven by a single, simple instinct: dominate, destroy, consume. Each blow it delivered sent waves of pain through Clive's body, forcing his muscles into spasms and nearly tearing his consciousness apart.
The small monster lacked the strength to fight directly.
It moved quickly, slick and evasive, always one step ahead of lethal strikes. It dodged and circled, exploiting the fraction of a second that appeared whenever the black-furred monster overcommitted to an attack. It knew that a single mistake would mean total annihilation.
But the difference in power was too great.
One heavy blow finally drove the small monster to the edge of the mental space, into a corner that felt constricting, like an invisible wall. Its energy flickered, its form growing increasingly transparent.
That was when it did the most dangerous thing of all.
It turned toward Clive.
"You destroyed me once," it said in thought-speech, its voice trembling, though the intelligence behind it was not fully concealed. "You destroyed my form. My will. But I still exist. I survived inside you."
Pain peaked, like a burning spike driven into Clive's skull. His vision blurred, but he forced his consciousness to remain intact.
"Now this one will take over your body," the small monster continued quickly, its words flowing like slowly poured poison. "It will turn you into something like itself. Wild. Bloodthirsty. Without a trace of human thought left."
Amid the chaos, Clive asked a question. Not in panic, but with forced calm.
"Why should I help you?"
The small monster formed something resembling a smile. Thin. Dangerous. "Because I know you. I know how you think. I know your fears. I know your strength." Its voice lowered, becoming more persuasive. "I already lost to you once. I do not want to lose again, especially not to a mindless beast that only knows how to destroy. Let me help you. After that, I will obey. I will become your tool."
The temptation felt real.
Not a promise of power.Not a threat.
Logic.
Using a lesser evil to restrain a greater one.
For a fraction of a second, the offer seemed reasonable.
But in the midst of pain that continued to tear at his consciousness, a thought emerged that was clearer than anything else.
There was another choice.
Clive did not choose either of them.
He stepped into the battle.
Not as an ally.Not as a spectator.
But as the owner.
"Enough."
The word was not spoken aloud. It fell like a massive hammer, carrying with it the entirety of Clive's will, forged through loss, mental discipline, and decisions that could never be taken back.
The mental space shook violently.
Both monsters froze.
For the first time, Clive was no longer on the edge of his own consciousness. He filled the space completely. The pressure of his presence pressed in from all directions, like an ocean collapsing inward and swallowing two small creatures whole.
"This body is mine," Clive thought, without the slightest doubt in the statement. "You exist only because I allow it."
The black-furred monster growled, attempting to resist. It slammed against the pressure with raw fury, but every effort only crushed it further, forcing it to recognize its own limitations.
The small monster did not move. It observed. Evaluated.
"You may stay," Clive continued, his will hardening into an unbreakable law. "On my terms. Do not attack each other. Do not attempt to take control. Do not influence my thoughts without permission."
The pressure increased once more.
"Break these rules, and I will destroy both of you. No matter how much it hurts me."
The black-furred monster struggled, its entire existence rejecting submission. But slowly, reality seeped in. It was strong, but it was not the owner. This body was not its territory. This space was not its domain.
Eventually, it stopped resisting.
Not out of obedience, but because there was no other choice.
The small monster bowed immediately. It knew when to surrender. It knew when cunning was more valuable than resistance.
Clive did not kill them.
He built a prison.
Not of walls.Not of chains.
He built boundaries of will. Clear lines that could not be crossed. He granted them a confined space, enough to exist, enough to serve as sources of power and information.
But never enough to rule.
When everything finally settled, Clive remained standing at the center of his own consciousness.
The two monster wills were no longer fighting for his body.
At least, not for now.