The world around me faded, smothered by distorted noise. The only thing I focused on was the blinding, murderous intent eating me alive, feeding off my rage. My vision tunneled, locking on the thing gnawing at Bansee like she was nothing more than a piece of meat.

I stormed down the hall, rage pulling my steps, when another one of those foul creatures lunged from the side, drawn by my shouts.

Time froze. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught it, arms outstretched, fingers twitching-eager to choke the life out of me before sinking its teeth into my flesh. My body moved on its own, fluid and precise, as if I were nothing more than an instrument of fury.

Its hands were inches from my throat when I swung my arm, knuckles connecting with its face in a wet, sickening crunch. The creature stumbled back, dazed, but I had no time for triumph. Another one was closing in behind him, hungry, twitching, eyes dead and fixed.

Without thinking, I drove my foot into him. The sharp snap of bone filled the silence. It collapsed, crumbling like a twisted doll. I grabbed a handful of its matted hair, slamming its head against the wall over and over. Blood sprayed across the cracked paint.

But the one who had bitten Bansee was still there, pressing its filthy hands into her breast, jaws wide open, ready to tear into her again. Fury flooded my veins, I charged, grabbing its collar and yanking it back, hard enough to break its grip on her.

It clawed at the air, desperate to reach her again. But I twisted its head with one swift motion, then tossed its lifeless body aside, and locked my eyes on Bansee. She lay there, paralyzed, caught in the grip of some kind of seizure. Trembling, helpless.

I heard the low groans from the stairwell. More of them were coming down. I needed a weapon-something that could hold them back. My gaze landed on a shattered bench leg, its jagged end bristling with rusted nails.

I grabbed it and turned toward the approaching horde. Each step I took felt heavier, filled with raw anticipation. This wasn't just survival; this was a reckoning. One by one, they reached me, decayed hands stretching for my throat.

The first strike tore through its skull, meeting bone with a sickening thud. Blood and decay splattered across the wall, painting it with the remnants of whatever life these creatures had left. I didn't stop. I swung again, and again, until there was nothing left of its face but a pulpy mess, smeared across the hallway.

Behind me, I heard a shaky whisper. I turned briefly to see Blossom and Ruth peering through a crack in the door, their faces pale. But before I could warn them, I saw it-the two zombies I'd beaten earlier, crawling toward Bansee with twisted, broken bodies, determined to feast on her.

Blossom couldn't wait any longer. She threw the door open and sprinted toward Bansee, frantically trying to drag her out of reach. But the creature whose neck I'd snapped wasn't done. It lay there, half-dead, hunger burning in its eyes as its hand shot out and gripped Blossom's ankle. She screamed, kicking desperately, but it held tight, gnashing its blood-streaked teeth.

"Let go of me! Let go!" she shrieked, terror slicing through her voice. She kicked again, harder, but the creature only groaned, yanking her closer, clawing at her leg. Its mouth opened, jagged teeth glistening, she screamed again, hopelessly. It was about to sink its teeth in when I stepped in.

My boot came down on its skull. Hard. Once, twice, again, and again. The ground beneath me was soaked in the splatter of blood and bone, the skull caving in with each stomp. I didn't stop until its head was a crushed, gooey mess beneath my heel, staining the floor.

Blossom lay sprawled on the floor, her face twisted in horror as she looked up at me, questions hanging in her eyes. But I had no time for answers. Those two zombies were still dragging themselves closer, relentless in their broken pursuit.

One of them lunged, teeth snapping for my throat. Pathetic. I met it with a sharp knee to the skull, feeling the crunch as its neck snapped under the impact. I pushed it back, sending it stumbling right into the second one. They crashed into each other in a heap, tangled limbs sprawled in a twisted mess on the floor, buying me just enough time to move.

Without wasting a second, I grabbed Blossom by the arm, hauling her to her feet. She stumbled, gasping, but I ignored her shock, turning to Bansee. Her limp form looked so small, so fragile. Scooping her into my arms, I could feel the faint pulse of life, still holding on, and for a moment, my fury found a dark, cold focus.

I didn't have time for anything else. Bansee was still breathing, still alive, and that was all that mattered. I held her close, her warmth a faint, fragile reminder of why I was still here. No blood, no carnage, not a single undead freak meant anything if I couldn't keep her alive. That hellstorm could wait. For now, it was just her life in my hands.

We ran. The moment I reached that room, I shoved them both inside and slammed the door shut behind them, sealing them off from the chaos, leaving them in that fragile sliver of safety.

But for me? It wasn't over.

The moans echoed from upstairs, a slow, ominous reminder of what was crawling down the stairway, creeping in to infest this place with more decay. My grip on the bench leg tightened.

They advanced, stumbling down, their rotting, uniformed bodies melding into one grotesque, hideous mass. With every shuffling step, memories of Bansee's terrified face flashed through my mind-her scream choked by the chaos, that thing tearing into her, its teeth sinking into her skin. My mind pulsed with each flash.

One second, I saw their sickening faces; the next, Bansee's terrified eyes, over and over until I could feel the rage pressing, swelling, pushing me to the edge.

It built, pounding with every step they took closer.

And then it broke.

A scream ripped from my throat, pure and raw, rage boiled to its blackest form. I launched myself at them to pull them apart limb by limb.

The hallway descended into a nightmare. Broken, shredded bodies littered the floor, limbs torn from their sockets, the walls painted in a brutal mosaic of thick, dark blood. Severed heads and crushed skulls scattered across the floor, each one a sickening reminder of the rage I'd poured out, every blow a testament to what they'd taken from me. In this twisted gallery of violence, I stood at the center, blood splattered, my breath heavy and jagged, my muscles aching, every inch of me consumed in that unyielding fury.

This wasn't mercy; this was the cold hand of rage, tearing through every one of those things until there was nothing left but silence.

As I walked slowly toward the room where the other Bansee had said the zombies were trapped, I heard them, banging and scratching from the other side of the door. But as I approached, a voice slipped out from somewhere in the shadows.

"Wonderful," it purred. "Quite a show you put on out there, lad."

I didn't need to turn around to know who it was. That voice was unmistakable-smooth, mocking, with that touch of venom lurking just beneath the surface. I forced myself to turn, already meeting the gaze of Demigore.

He was, lounging against the wall, his dark aura simmering around him like a burning shadow. His horns curled upward like those of a bison, and his cloak hung around him, almost alive, shifting like smoke. He flashed a toothy, too-wide grin.

"I thought you'd save our little deal for something... personal. What was her name again?" He pretended to think. "Ah, Bansee. Isn't that right, Dhruv?"

I ignored him and reached for the door. Whatever this twisted demon wanted, I wasn't interested. I needed to get inside, to end the zombies clawing at the wood from the other side.

"Oh, don't be like that," he cooed, slithering behind me like a shadow. "Don't treat me like your ex; it just breaks my heart." He chuckled, the sound low and grating.

The door burst open, and the zombies lunged forward, snarling, hungry. I stepped forward to meet them, cracking one in the jaw, tearing through another with raw, unfiltered rage. One by one they fell, legs snapped, limbs torn, skulls shattered. Seven of them in total, each one reduced to blood and broken pieces on the floor.

Demigore leaned casually against the wall, watching me with amused detachment. "Such a busy guy, Don't let me distract you. I'll just be here, watching you like a creep."

With a snap of his fingers, a box of popcorn appeared in his hand, and he started munching, eyes fixed on me with that dark, unsettling grin.

After tearing through every last one of them, I walked up to the first floor. My footsteps echoed against the walls, each one slow, deliberate. I took in the layout as I reached the top: two rooms on the right, one dead center facing me, and a hallway stretching left with three more rooms and a bathroom at the end.

I moved toward the first room on the right. Tried the handle-locked from the inside. Someone was there. I knocked, waited. Silence. Knocked again, harder. Still nothing.

I left it, continuing toward the second room on the right. Our room, where I'd been before, before having a cup of coffee with Dave. It should've been empty, but something shifted in the shadows behind the door. Who the hell would be in there now?

Demigore followed, lounging back against the wall as if he had nowhere better to be. He yawned, exaggerated and mocking, then pointed casually toward the left hall.

"Looks like you missed a few," he sneered, nodding toward a group of zombies dragging themselves out of one of the rooms, crawling toward me.

I launched forward, smashing through each of them with a steady rhythm and a beat of violence.

Demigore's voice slithered into the silence, a blend of mockery and irritation. "I'm not one to interrupt your fleeting little satisfaction, but do yourself a favor and toss those lousy creatures outside. They've got a knack for coming back uglier the second time."

A twisted grin creeping over his face as he watched me pile up torn limbs and decapitated heads near the exit downstairs. He trailed me, his shadow looming as I dragged each mangled corpse toward the door.

"Ah, there we go, teamwork," he chuckled, his tone casual but his eyes glittering with something darker. "You know, we can have our little chat, while you're finishing up,"

I wasn't interested in having any conversation with him, my only concern was to Annihilate every one of those freaks. I ignored him.

"I'll take your silence as a yes."

I kept moving, gathering up the last of the bodies, while he babbled on, basking in his own words.

He leaned against the doorframe, watching me intently, like he was savouring every moment. "You know I was positively thrilled when you grabbed Bansee's hand. Thought this might be the time finally, a taste of real revenge. I wanted to see it, wanted to see what you'd do with all that... potential."

He laughed, his voice echoing in the empty, blood-stained hallway. "I mean, wouldn't it have been perfect? You and I, side by side, making her pay for her actions. And yet, here you are... cleaning up."

I could hear Demigore's voice drifting through the silence, mocking, dripping with amusement. "Don't get me wrong, you're free to use my powers however you like. And I can see you already have."

His gaze lingered on me, studying the tension in my blood-streaked muscles after the fight. "Look at those muscles-you're clearly enjoying yourself."

I remained silent, piling the broken bodies of the zombies at the exit. There were too many of them-students mostly, faces I vaguely recognized but couldn't care less about now. Their bodies stretched from the doorway to the hall, completely filling the left wing.

"What are you waiting for? Toss them out already." Demigore's voice broke through again, all fake impatience. I shot him a cold look.

"What?" he asked, eyes gleaming.  "Oh, right-you don't like talking in this form. Fine, don't. Just follow instructions."

I glanced outside. There was someone out there, screaming in the distance. The librarian, it seemed, was surrounded, zombies crawling in from every direction, trapping him.

It wasn't like I cared about the old man. But the sight of those zombies, those mindless things, churned something raw inside me, something that needed release. I wanted to crush them, rip them apart one by one, feel their bones splinter beneath my fists.

I was ready to take a step toward the door, but I couldn't, I couldn't move my body. I tried again, but it was as if my feet were cemented on the floor, and I realized it was him-Demigore, holding me in place with that insufferable psychic grip of his.

"Lad, you really do get dumber in this form, don't you?" He sighed, waving a hand as if disciplining a child. "Throw those bodies outside first."

My teeth clenched. "Why are you here?" I demanded, the words a low snarl. I knew him too well; he never showed up without a reason.

"Ah," he said, satisfaction creeping into his tone. "Finally decided to have a chat, did we? But don't worry, we'll get to that. First, clean up this mess."

I set to work, dragging each body outside and flinging it into the distance. The librarian's screams faded as the zombies feasted on him, tearing limbs and intestines, and I didn't look back. I needed the space clear.

Once the floor was empty, I moved back inside, Locking the exit door, washing the blood off my hands and arms in the bathroom sink. My shirt was soaked in it, pants too. But there was no option to change them, I don't have any other clothes or anything, I can only pour some water to wipe the zombie blood from it.

I thought about checking on the other Bansee, but Demigore's voice stopped me, once again mocking yet serious. "Whoa, there. Hold on, little fella. You need to hear me."

I tried to ignore him, but I couldn't. His grip was on me again, freezing my muscles in place.

"I believe you're in need of something, perhaps another deal," he said smoothly, eyes flashing with dark intent. "Let's talk about it, shall we?"

Deals with him always came with a cost. Something precious, something painful-things I didn't want to give up. every time, the price felt higher. I'd made a deal with him just yesterday, and I'd done what he asked, something I didn't even want to remember.

"Fuck your mother and shove that deal in her ass." I spat.

Demigore feigned shock, raising his hands in a mock offense. "Language, dear boy. I only show up when you need me, remember? And if I'm here now, maybe this is one of those times."

"I don't need anything from you, fucker."

"Very well, If that's what you want." He released me, that awful mocking grin still on his face as if he'd won.

I pushed past him, making my way toward the other Bansee's room. Then, just as I was about to reach the door, his voice drifted after me, soft, taunting.

"You seem quite focused on that Bansee, don't you?" he murmured, his voice like silk over gravel. "But... do you know what's become of your Bansee?"

My body went still. The realization hit me like ice down my spine. I'd left her in the room, and she'd been bitten.

He leaned in closer, voice dropping to a near whisper, dripping with feigned sympathy. "Wasn't she with those two friends of her, what were their names again? Ah, yes, Blossom and Ruth. Do you want to know what happened to them?" He smirked, his eyes glinting with a dark, twisted pleasure. He knew exactly where to dig the knife.

The thought of Bansee, now a mindless, hollowed-out zombie, tearing into Blossom and Ruth flashed through my mind-a brutal, gnawing image that twisted like a knife in my gut. I tried to push myself forward, forcing every muscle to move, to get there before it was too late. But I couldn't move. I was stopped, held in place like a puppet with its strings cut.

He sighed, a sound that grated against me. "You're not just slower in this form, you're downright idiot. You know if you rush in now, they're gone. Permanently. by your own mistake."

I stopped, realizing why he was here, why he had chosen this moment. If he was showing up now, it was because something irreversible was happening. She was dead already, or worse, turned into the very thing I was trying to protect her from. He was here to twist the knife.

He had powers that went beyond my comprehension, powers to manipulate events, but with a catch-if I'd seen it unfold, he couldn't touch it. Only events I hadn't witnessed firsthand were within his reach to alter. A loophole. But it came with a price, one I'd paid before, one I wasn't eager to pay again. The cost was always more than it seemed, because Demigore's price was never what you expected. He'd take things you didn't even realize you had, things you never considered until they were gone.

He thrived on that confusion, on watching his victims wake up to what they'd truly lost. I could practically feel him savoring the dilemma, relishing the helplessness bleeding through me.

A trickster, a devil in shadows. He fed on desperation like a predator.

"Tick-tock, Dhruv. Every second you waste, she's slipping further away from you." Demigore's voice cut through my head like a scalpel, slicing into the panic simmering beneath my skin. His words were honeyed, almost amused, but each one landed like a lash. "You hear her turn into one of them, that grotesque groan? No going back after that, not even for me." He watched me, eyes gleaming with that twisted enjoyment. He wanted me to break. "It's not a big ask, lad. Just a tiny favor. Instead of fifteen minutes a week, I get thirty-full access. See? Simple." His eyes glinted, catching every flicker of hesitation. "Don't let your little world fall apart over one stubborn decision."

Bansee was my last anchor. He knew it. He was feeding off it.

I froze. The sound of coughing drifted from Bansee's room, each hack worse than the last. My pulse thudded harder with each gasp she let out, and yet I was rooted in place.

Demigore watched me with that smug, unhurried smile, a small gesture of his eyes toward her door as if to say, Do you really want to wait and find out what happens?

The clock ticks faster. This was Demigore's twisted magic, the one sound that always signaled an ultimatum. The ticking grew faster, louder, echoing in my skull. Every beat was like a countdown, driving home the weight of what I knew was coming.

The second it struck ding-dong, she'd be gone, and become one of those horrible creatures, nothing would bring her back after that.

Tick-tock.

The sound grew faster. He watched my hesitation with delight, waiting for me to snap. He knew he had me.

Finally, the first chime echoed-a cold, hollow ding-dong that told me I had seconds left to make my choice. The dread twisted tighter, knowing there was no going back if I heard the second chime.

It hit me: I had no choice.

I made the deal with the devil.