"How!?!"

He abandoned his hiding spot and spun out of the coffin. Hoping to start sooner than the robed skeleton.

The blade was already coming down on the coffin.

Closer than he thought.

Another violent crash tore through the chamber.

Opium was spared the direct hit by inches.

The shock-wave caught him mid-stride and ripped him off his feet, throwing him backwards. More intense than before.

Stone caskets jumped. Skulls burst from the walls.

He threw his hands up among the chaos.

—

He heard it before he felt it.

A wet, tearing sound that didn't belong to the stone or the skulls. It came from him.

The jagged edge of a shattered casket caught his forearm as he flew past. It tore into his skin and bit deep into the muscle beneath as it raked across.

All at once, a searing white absolute consumed his entire mind.

A full, gut-wrenching scream tore out of him as his body twisted and tumbled across the floor, skidding hard before slamming back-first into the skull wall.

Only then did he look.

His forearm was laid open in a long, uneven gash. It was the farthest thing from a clean cut. it looked deflated and empty. He could see glimpses of white through the gush of red.

Blood surged freely, spilling in a trail across the stone and pooling by the jagged casket edge.

His stomach lurched.

The scream broke into choking breaths as he clutched at his arm frantically, fingers instantly slick, pain fired through his body.

The wound was too deep, too open.

'Fuck!!'

'Blood loss, shock, infection, people died from these.'

'No no no— '

'Th- This can't be the end!'

'I can't die here!'

'Not here, in this fucked up place.'

'I've…'

'After everything I've been through.'

'After Luke,' - That laugh. Always that laugh before the fists came.

'After Her,' Cold skin. He knew where he got it from.

'After the coffin,' Stone pressing in on every side. Lungs that wouldn't fill.

The pain in his forearm only intensified, burning deeper with every second.

'After the injuries,' Things done in the dark.

'After the Rats,' - Leashes disguised as handshakes.

'After my friends,' They laughed once, all of them. He had forgotten what started it.

'After all that!!!'

'I didn't survive all that just to die here!'

'Who decided anyway that I die, it seems like no matter what I do, I end up on this damn wall!'

'Why is this place so fucking desperate to kill me?!'

'Why does this place want me dead so much!'

"Why won't this place let me live?"

He swallowed hard, jaw trembling.

"I don't give a fuck if you want me dead, I'll survive!"

"Fuck whatever this is."

"Fuck your sword!"

"Fuck this place!"

"Fuck this room! Fuck these walls! Fuck that tomb!!"

"Fuck Luke!"

"Fuck Lana!"

"Fuck Plague!"

"Fuck those animals!!"

"And you, Fuck you Buddy, and all of your secrets!"

"I'll survive you hear me! I don't care, whatever it takes!"

"Even if I have to go to hell and back I'll do it!"

"WHATEVER IT TAKES!"

"I'LL—"

The word drowned in his throat. He spat blood onto the stone.

"...SURVIVE."

—

His chest heaved, his vision blurred, and his open wound sang with a deep, white scourging pain.

His first attempt failed. His arm buckled the moment weight hit it. And he dropped back to the stone. The impact sent a fresh wave of pain screaming up his shoulder.

He tried again. Planted his good hand flat and pushed.

His knees shook, the bones felt like they were rattling inside his skin. Threatening to give.

He caught himself against the skull wall, fingers smearing blood on the skulls as he forced air back into his lungs. Every breath burned.

His legs trembled as he pushed himself upright. Finally getting his posture, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

And his fear... Oh his fear, Trying to gulped down as much of it as he can.

The Skeleton Prince still loomed in the chamber, slowly walking.

"Yo- You could've taken me to dinner first."

Fear still rushed in him. Pain screamed through him. But something else rose with it now. Harder. Heavier.

Refusal.

He dragged himself fully upright and faced the beast, blood dripping from his arm, breath shaking, eyes burning.

"Come on," he rasped.

The footsteps stopped.

The Skeleton Prince's footstep stopped.

Opium lifted his head and squinted his eyes.

— 'What?'

It had him, cornered, bleeding, barely standing.

'Why did it stop?'

'Something is not adding up.'

Opium's sunken eyes narrowed, scanning the creature through his blurred vision.

The Prince's head wasn't facing him. The skull angled downward. Not searching, not watching. Fixed on the floor.

Not on Opium.

'What is it looking at?'

He followed the gaze to the dark puddle spreading across the stone.

His memory snagged on something. The red glow flooding the coffin while he hid. The metallic stench that had filled the air like a wet cloth pressed to his face. The words hammered directly into his skull.

'[THE SKELETON PRINCE IS NOW BOUNDED TO YOUR BLOOD]'

'Could he even see me?'

The question opened something. He looked back at the Prince's eyes. What had been two white sparks of light were now deep, flat crimson.

He remembered how it first entered the room. It had looked at him, or seemed to. But after the red pulses, it had walked straight to his casket. Not hunting the room. Not guessing. Straight there.

'It all makes sense.'

Through this whole fight, he couldn't form any plan on winning. This wasn't something like Luke who could simply be knocked down. Its strength more than made up for its slowness.

But now… he saw it.

His gaze drifted to the puddle on the floor. Then to his arm.