As the lizardman lunges again, his claws aiming for your throat, you sidestep and twist your sinuous appendage around his waist with blinding speed. He struggles, snarling and thrashing, his claws scraping against your coils, but you do not yield.
“You don’t understand—!” Curtis roars, his words cut off as you swing your tail with all your might, giving a harsh hiss. His body arcs through the air, crashing through a section of the railing and plunging into the depths below.
His defiant roar echoes in the cavernous space as he is swallowed by the shadows, the sound fading into silence. You stare down into the void, chest heaving as the adrenaline courses through you. Steam and smoke swirl in the air, and the faint whirr of distant machinery seems to mock the aftermath of the battle.
Behind you, Damian stumbles, his breath shaky but steady, voice soft. “You... you saved me.”
Meeting his gaze, he smiles—your green slitted eyes narrow briefly, before you turn away from the railing.
The fight is over, but the weight of Curtis’s words linger, gnawing at the edges of your mind. Damian clears his throat, snapping you from your thoughts.
“We… we should keep moving. We’re close now,” he says, his voice low but urgent. He fidgets with his flashlight, the beam cutting through the darkness ahead as he begins walking forward once more.
You follow in silence, claws tapping faintly against the cold metal floor. The air grows colder still, the faint hum of the facility’s machinery pressing against your senses. Damian’s flashlight dances along the walls, revealing streaks of rust and faint scratches etched into the metal. So much for maintenance, you think in mild exasperation.
He stops before another massive set of gates, his hand trembling as he shines the light on their surface. The gates are adorned with strange, faintly glowing symbols and intricate script that seem to pulse subtly in the dim light. You tilt your head, tracing your eyes across the unfamiliar markings. Whatever language it is, you can’t read it, but… the symbols hum with an almost imperceptible energy, sending an odd, prickling sensation down your spine, all the way to the tip of your tail.
Damian steps closer, his breath visible in the chilled air, and begins fidgeting with a control panel embedded in the wall beside the gates. His movements are jerky, his fingers fumbling over buttons and levers as though his nerves have yet to fully settle.
“The doors…” he mutters, half to himself. “Why..."
Damian hesitates, craning his neck to glance at you--and then back at the panel. His trembling fingers hover over the device, but he stops short, looking up at you with an odd mixture of urgency and expectation.
“It... won’t respond to me,” he says, his voice tight. “The security systems… they must have... changed since the lockdown. The Blackstone’s energy—its influence—has corrupted everything. It... likely only recognizes… well, something like you now.”
He steps back, gesturing toward the panel. “Place your hand on it. Let it scan you. It may be the only way we’ll get through…”