In a crevice of darkness, the coughing sounds of a throat scratched by blood and globules of flesh resounded. The Rat had escaped once more, as they always did. This sort of life was common to them, and it only came naturally.
However, in the end, they knew that it would all be worth it. No matter how many setbacks, for a humiliated creature like them, it was only inevitable that they would come out on top.
What Hero didn't have to make sacrifices to rise to the peak?
It didn't matter how much they suffered—the end result would always be the same.
But it was at that moment that the eyes of the Rat flashed open.
"Impossible."
The voice was gruff but carried the slightest hint of a squeak. That latter squeak wasn't natural, likely the result of the Rat not having spoken in so many years.
They flipped a palm and looked at fluttering Runes of some sort. There, in the depths of the complexity that was beyond the current Sylas' imagination, there was a light that had blinked out.
