Bloody Odyssey

Dax walked leisurely through the Backrooms.

The entities swayed as he passed, their grotesque forms bending, twisting, watching. Some were prisoners dragged here from other worlds. Others had been born in this place — conceived in the cracks between realities, raised on the whispers of yellow walls.

He turned each corridor without footsteps.

His hand brushed against the mannequins that lined the walls — their plastic faces frozen in expressions of perpetual surprise. Some were empty. Some were occupied. Some had been hollowed out and filled with things that should not exist.

Dax smiled.

It's beautiful.

There were entities whose flesh had been turned from the inside out — their organs exposed, their bones visible through translucent skin. They had no skin of their own, so they wore the skin of others. When they saw humans with skin, they grew infuriated. Jealous.

How dare you have skin?

How dare you wear something I do not have?

Dax found it twisted. And he loved it.

Zero has been busy.

The eldest of his creations had always begged him to capture more entities. To bring more specimens into the Backrooms. To fill the endless halls with more life, more horror, more art.

In the old days, Zero had even opened the gates to the Backrooms himself — in the last reality, before everything had changed.

I hope he doesn't do that again.

Dax chuckled softly.

He's a maniac. Him and 99.

And I can't even believe I'm saying that when I am the creator.

He continued walking as if searching for someone. His eyes scanned the corridors, the alcoves, the shadowed corners where things lurked and waited.

Then he saw it.

Kakarai.

Kakarai was being invaded once again.

Different forms of creatures of many sizes swarmed over him — crawling creatures with too many legs, creatures with faces on their palms, creatures with horse heads and spider bodies. It was an abomination. A nightmare given form.

Legs with eyes. Heads without bodies. Things that should not exist.

They all ran into Kakarai like a black hole absorbing matter.

He spasmed. He begged. He pleaded.

"Please — let me go — it's my fault — I'm sorry —"

But from time to time, he lost reality. He forgot how to speak. His voice dissolved into meaningless sounds, into screams, into silence.

Dax raised a finger.

At his motion, the creatures paused. They dropped from Kakarai's body like rain, scattering into the shadows, retreating into the corners where they had come from.

Kakarai fell to the cold floor.

He lay limp, breathing heavily, his chest heaving with each ragged breath. Steam rose from his swollen body — his flesh already beginning to heal, to regenerate, to recover.

He was not the same.

He had spent millions of years here. No, perhaps billions. He could not even count the amount of time he had spent in this place since he last saw Dax.

Dax looked down at him.

"They all want to get out of here."

His voice was calm. Almost kind.

"You spoke of freedom. And all of them decided to enter your body." Dax smiled. "How lovely."

Kakarai's eyes struggled to focus. His lips moved, but no sound came out.

Dax crouched beside him.

"Kakarai. I have considered your proposal."

Kakarai's eyes widened.

"Why don't you destroy one of the cities for me?"

What?

"I believe you said there was one of the city lords who used his people for money rituals, correct?" Dax tilted his head. "You said he was the most dangerous out of the three city lords."

Kakarai nodded weakly.

"I want you to prove to me why I should release you." Dax's voice hardened. "Show me why you should be free."

He stood.

"Because that is what I command."

Kakarai stared up at him.

His body was still healing. Still trembling. Still broken.

But his eyes — his eyes were burning.

Freedom.

Havoc.

Blood.

"Master…" His voice was hoarse, barely a whisper. "I will not fail you."

Dax opened the gates out of his lab.

The massive doors groaned as they swung outward, revealing the familiar courtyard of the House of Fall. The evening air was cool, carrying the faint scent of blooming flowers and the distant murmur of the clan settling in for the night.

He stepped out.

Kakarai followed, his head bowed, his body still trembling from the horrors he had endured. But beneath the trembling, there was excitement — a barely contained curiosity that flickered in his eyes as he took in the world beyond the yellow walls.

Freedom.

For now.

Dax walked into the courtyard, and his presence was immediately noted.

Nadia and Madeka stood waiting. Their gazes found him the moment he emerged — Madeka's red eyes glowing with warmth and adoration, her lips curving into a beautiful smile. Nadia's golden eyes, however, held confusion. Since the battle in the City of Roses, since wielding Cil, her mind had been in a fog. She watched Dax with a mixture of awe and uncertainty.

What type of man is he really?

Behind Dax, Kakarai raised his head for just a moment. His gaze fell on Nadia — and he quickly looked away.

She defeated teacher .

She wielded that sword.

A sword that drank light itself.

A shiver ran down his spine. He had seen what she could do. He had seen the aftermath.

Dax's voice broke through the silence.

"Kakarai. I believe you should go in now."

Kakarai nodded deeply, bowing with reverence. And then, as if he had never been there, he no-clipped out of the spot — vanishing like a spirit, leaving the walls of fall.

Madeka ran to Dax.

She launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck, her legs curling around his waist. Her laughter was light, musical — the sound of someone who had been waiting too long for this moment.

"Darling," she purred, her fingers threading through his white hair. "You haven't had time for me since we returned. What is wrong? What is on your mind?"

She tilted her head, her red eyes searching his face.

"I hope it isn't this war that makes you not have time for me."

Dax's expression softened slightly. He didn't pull away. He never pulled away from Madeka.

"The war can wait," he said quietly. "You cannot."

Madeka's smile widened. She rolled his hair between her fingers, pressing her forehead against his.

"That's what I like to hear."

Nadia rolled her eyes from a distance. But she couldn't help the pang of jealousy that struck her chest.

Why does he always let her do this?

She had seen Dax brush off others. Had seen him dismiss advances, ignore flattery, walk past beauty without a second glance. But Madeka was different. Madeka was always different.

He loves her.

He just won't say it.

Dax walked through the courtyard holding Madeka's hand. Nadia followed behind, her golden eyes fixed on their intertwined fingers.

Why not me?

What does she have that I don't?

The manor was beautifully decorated.

Paintings lined the walls — scenes of battles, landscapes, portraits of ancestors long passed. Dax's eyes lingered on one in particular: his mother, immortalized in oils and canvas. Her face was serene, her eyes filled with a warmth that seemed to reach across the years.

I will find you.

I will bring you home.

Madeka noticed his gaze. She squeezed his hand gently.

"She would be proud of you."

Dax said nothing. But his grip tightened slightly.

Later that night, Dax went to his private bath.

The steam rose around him, hot and soothing, carrying the scent of herbs and minerals. He closed his eyes, letting the heat ease the tension from his muscles.

Then he heard the door open.

Madeka slipped in, her silhouette framed by the dim light. She moved toward him like water — fluid, graceful, inevitable.

"You didn't think I would let you have this moment alone, did you?"

Dax smiled. The first genuine smile he had given in days.

"I was counting on it."

She joined him, her hands finding his shoulders, kneading the knots that had formed during his endless work. Her touch was firm, practiced, knowing.

"Your body is so tense," she murmured. "You need to relax."

"Relaxing is not something I do well."

"Then let me help you."

She pulled him into the water. And the world outside ceased to exist.

Madeka's hands roamed across his chest, his back, his arms. Her lips found his neck, his jaw, the corner of his mouth.

"You think too much," she whispered. "Stop thinking."

"I can't."

"Then let me distract you."

She pressed closer. And in the privacy of that room, Dax allowed himself to let go — just for a moment.

Madeka's laughter mixed with the steam. Her touch was both gentle and possessive, a reminder that she had claimed this part of him.

Nadia watched from the shadows.

She had followed him. She hadn't meant to — not really. But her feet had carried her here, and her eyes had refused to look away.

She saw everything.

The way Madeka's hands moved across him. The way his resistance crumbled. The way he surrendered to her touch.

Why her?

Why not me?

A deep, aching jealousy coiled in her chest — cold and bitter and consuming.

She wanted to leave. She couldn't.

The next day, Nadia was different.

She was more affectionate. More present. She lingered near Dax, touched his arm when she spoke, laughed at his rare jokes. Madeka noticed immediately, her red eyes narrowing with possessive amusement.

She's trying to compete with me.

How cute.

Dax, for his part, seemed oblivious. He continued his work, his experiments, his endless pursuit of knowledge.

Nadia waited.

She waited until Madeka was alone, until the moment was right.

"What is your story?"

Madeka turned to her, surprised.

"What?"

"Why are you so attached to Dax?" Nadia's voice was quiet but steady. "What makes him different?"

Madeka studied her for a long moment. Then she smiled — a sad, knowing smile.

"At first, I was hesitant. But… I knew him at his lowest."

Nadia's eyes widened.

"I knew him when he was hungry. I was also a victim of that hunger." Madeka's voice dropped. "But beyond the hunger, I saw the man beyond it. And I fell in love with that man."

She paused.

"The Dax of now is very different. The hunger of the body is gone. Now, I can experience Dax. I will not allow your musings of the past to hinder my experience with my love."

Nadia stared at her.

Beneath Madeka's words, she saw something else. A depth. A darkness. A willingness to stand beside a man who would challenge the heavens themselves.

She loves him.

And I… I want to love him too.

She remembered the city. She remembered him standing against the celestials for her. She remembered the sword, the power, the absolute certainty in his eyes.

He would burn the world for those he loves.

And I want to be loved by such a man.

Nadia looked at Madeka with strange eyes. She saw the truth beneath the surface. The possessiveness. The devotion. The unyielding loyalty.

She has what I want.

But I will not give up.