Chapter 4

Chapter 4: The Hunger for Power

Arlen trudged forward, her entire body trembling, not from cold but from exhaustion and pain. Each step felt like dragging a boulder through sand, her limbs heavy and uncooperative. Her left arm was useless now, the flesh and sinew twisting unnaturally, coated in congealed blood. She could feel the wound festering, could smell the metallic tang mixed with sweat and dirt.

She hated it-hated how weak she still felt. Even after the fight, after dragging herself out of death's grip, the gnawing sense of uselessness lingered, sinking its teeth into her soul.

The wasteland stretched endlessly before her, barren and unfeeling, mirroring the hollow pit inside her. The shattered remains of humanity's world loomed like silent witnesses to her struggle

-burned-out cars, skeletal buildings, and the occasional rusted sign pointing nowhere. The air stank of ash and decay, thick enough to choke her.

But it was nothing compared to the suffocating weight of her thoughts.

Her mind churned relentlessly, replaying the insults, the jeers, the dismissive glances of the settlement.

"You're a waste of space."

"Why is she still here? She's just another mouth to feed."

"She should've been the one to die, not-"

The voices overlapped, blending into a cacophony that gnawed at her sanity. She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms until they bled, but even the sharp sting of pain couldn't drown them out.

By the time dusk fell, she had stumbled across a derelict transport truck half-buried in the earth. It was little more than a rusted shell, its windows shattered and its interior gutted, but it offered shelter from the unrelenting wind. Arlen collapsed inside, her back against the cold metal wall.

She didn't cry-she hadn't in years-but her chest heaved as if she wanted to.

The shards of glass littering the floor caught her eye, reflecting the faint light of the dying day. She picked one up, staring at her warped reflection.

Her face was gaunt, her skin pallid and stretched tight over her cheekbones. Her lips were cracked and dry, and her hair hung in matted clumps around her face. She looked like a ghost, someone who should have died long ago.

Her hand trembled as she traced the sharp edge of the glass, letting it press into her skin. The small sting grounded her for a moment, but it didn't last.

"You're pathetic," a voice whispered-not from outside, but within her own mind.

She didn't argue with it. She couldn't.

The faint sound of movement snapped her out of her thoughts. A low growl echoed through the truck, sending a chill down her spine. She froze, her heart pounding. Her hand instinctively tightened around her knife.

Two figures slinked into view outside the truck, their silhouettes grotesque against the fading light. They weren't human-not anymore. Their limbs were too long, their movements jerky and animalistic. Their glowing eyes pierced the darkness, unblinking and full of hunger.

Arlen's breath caught. Her body screamed at her to run, but her legs wouldn't move. Panic clawed at her throat as she watched the creatures sniff the air, their heads snapping toward the truck.

"I can't do this," she thought, her mind racing. "*I'm not strong enough. I'm going to die here*."

The shard in her arm pulsed, its glow intensifying.

The voice returned, sharper now, cutting through her fear.

"You can fight. You have to fight. Prove them wrong."

The creatures lunged.

Arlen's body moved before her mind caught up.

She ducked as the first creature leapt into the truck, its claws scraping against the metal where her head had been seconds earlier. Her knife lashed out, slicing into its side. The creature howled, its dark blood splattering across her face.

The second one was faster. It darted around the truck, its claws raking across her back. Pain exploded through her, white-hot and blinding. She stumbled, her knees buckling beneath her, but the shard's energy flared, pushing her forward.

Her vision blurred as the fight descended into chaos. Her knife met flesh again and again, her movements frantic and desperate. She didn't feel like herself anymore-her body moved like it belonged to someone else, someone stronger, someone relentless.

When the last creature fell, Arlen collapsed beside it, her chest heaving. She was covered in blood, her own and theirs, and her hands wouldn't stop shaking.

She looked down at her left hand and froze.

The shard's glow had spread, its silver veins crawling up her arm. Her fingers were no longer entirely human; they gleamed with a metallic sheen, sharp and unnatural. Her breath hitched, panic surging through her.

"What... what's happening to me?"

The shard's voice was calm, almost soothing.

"*This is what you wanted. Strength. Purpose.*"

She stared at her hand, her mind racing. She could feel the power coursing through her, but it didn't feel right. It felt foreign, invasive, like something that didn't belong.

And yet... she couldn't deny how intoxicating it was.

For the first time in her life, she felt like she mattered. Like she was more than just a burden.

But as she looked at her reflection in a shard of glass, she barely recognized the person staring back. Her eyes glowed faintly now, the same silver hue as the shard's light. Her humanity was slipping away, piece by piece.

And the worst part?

She wasn't sure if she cared anymore.

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