The Sergoth’s Doll

Pain-ridden and helpless, Viktor collapsed, his body yielding to the relentless assault. The room became a battlefield of despair, the air heavy with the aftermath of violence.

Vela, now a vessel for malevolent forces, stood over the fallen Viktor, a harbinger of chaos, as the room bore witness to the tragic unfolding of an untold nightmare.

"How could an ordinary human like you possibly endure a battle against a demon?" Sergoth arrogantly remarked, his voice dripping with disdain as if reveling in Viktor's inevitable demise.

Cold beads of sweat adorned Viktor's forehead, tracing a path down his strained face, a testament to the physical and emotional toll of the relentless struggle.

His vision blurred, the room oscillating between fleeting moments of clarity and disorienting haziness.

"You must die!" declared Vela, her voice resonating with an otherworldly resonance that sent shivers down Viktor's spine.

The words, though uttered by Vela, carried a weight and darkness that defied the familiarity of her voice. It was an unsettling transformation, an eerie metamorphosis that heightened the sense of impending doom.

In the oppressive atmosphere, Sergoth's callous commentary echoed, further emphasizing the stark imbalance in this harrowing contest between mortal and supernatural forces.

The room, once a haven of tranquility, now bore witness to a macabre spectacle, a clash between the ordinary and the otherworldly, with Viktor ensnared in the midst of a nightmare beyond comprehension.

Vela licked her blood-smeared, razor-sharp claws with a predatory satisfaction.

She tightened her grip around Viktor's neck, causing the veins to strain and appear as if they might burst. The sounds of his choked gasps filled the air as breath became a scarce commodity.

"Ve-la. You...?"

Vela's eyes, initially vacant, slowly revealed traces of her true self, a consequence of Viktor's earnest plea.

Unfortunately, this sincerity had a profound impact on Vela, resulting in a drastic decline in her once overwhelming strength.

The conflict within Vela, torn between malevolent forces and Viktor's genuine connection, manifested in a struggle that unfolded in the sinister shadows of that accursed room.

As the conflict within Vela unfolded, a strange dichotomy emerged in the room. Her grip on Viktor's neck wavered, the intensity of her assault diminishing as glimpses of her true self struggled to resurface.

Viktor, gasping for precious air, seized the opportunity to utter desperate words between labored breaths. "Vela, please... fight it. I know you're in there. You're stronger than this."

The struggle within Vela played out on her countenance, flickering between vacant malice and fleeting moments of recognition.

Suddenly, a surge of strength coursed through Vela, a momentary triumph of her true essence over the malevolent forces.

She loosened her grip on Viktor's neck, allowing him a desperate gulp of air.

However, the victory was short-lived.

"Hah? What is this damnation?!" Sergoth seethed with rage. The idea that his dark enchantments could falter over such trivial matters incited a furious frustration within him. "This can't be."

As the malevolent influence fought back, Vela convulsed, trapped in the relentless tug-of-war between the opposing forces. The room quivered, an ethereal battleground resonating with the intensity of this metaphysical struggle. Shadows danced, reflecting the unfolding drama in an otherworldly glow.

Unyielding, Sergoth strengthened his magic, fueling Vela's ferocity. She moved with a predatory grace, slowly closing in, poised to deliver a fatal blow to Viktor's heart.

In a swift turn of events, Viktor's body responded with remarkable speed as Vela poised for her final strike.

The dynamics of the confrontation shifted abruptly, transforming Viktor's imminent demise into a painful reversal.

At the crucial moment when Vela intended to thrust her hand into Viktor's chest, he, gripped by escalating fear and profound desperation, instinctively grabbed a shard of glass at random, wielding it as a makeshift form of self-defense.

The sound of shattering glass echoed through the room as the improvised weapon found its mark.

Vela's throat was impaled, a jagged gash that severed the vital arteries, halting her malevolent advance.

The air hung heavy with the unexpected turn of events, and the room became a silent witness to the cruel twist of fate that unfolded in the blink of an eye.

The girl's life dissipated in an instant, her form crumpling to the floor. Viktor, now adorned with the macabre aftermath, felt the warmth of her lifeblood seeping into his own being.

With a gaze clouded by shock and sorrow, Viktor found himself incapable of supporting the weight of his own body.

He descended into a seated position, just a short distance from where Vela lay motionless.

Unaware of the consequences of the desperate act, even the soles of his shoes bore the unintentional stain of the thick, crimson fluid that now tainted the room.

The air hung thick with the weight of unforeseen repercussions, painting a haunting tableau of tragedy and sacrifice within the confines of that ominous space.

"Vi-k-tor...." Vela's sweet smile accompanied her descent into death, a haunting juxtaposition of innocence and finality.

Her genuine gaze served as a poignant testament to her awareness of Sergoth's deceit, a revelation that surfaced in the fleeting moments before her demise.

Tears cascaded down Viktor's cheeks, each drop a manifestation of the overwhelming grief that now enveloped him.

"No...,"

The weight of sorrow intensified, especially as he recalled Vela's last look—an expression devoid of resentment for her untimely end.

Viktor's heart raced, its rapid and nauseating rhythm mirroring the turmoil within him.

"No! This is not what I intended to do! Vela!" A forceful blow landed on his head as he grappled with frustration.

Viktor, overwhelmed by a mixture of grief and guilt, couldn't bring himself to approach Vela's lifeless form.

The room echoed with the heavy cadence of despair and the profound sense of loss that lingered in the aftermath of this tragic unfolding.

His sobs resonated painfully, drawing Sergoth's attention, abruptly silencing his mocking laughter.

The overwhelming surge of pain struck Viktor's chest and consciousness like a relentless battering ram, his vision blurring in the onslaught.

"I shouldn't have done anything earlier... why is it that I, who seemingly deserves life less than her, ended up defending this worthless existence?"