As Virno struggled against Novilunium’s grip miles away, another battle was brewing in the depths of Cabdan’s mansion.

  Inside the musky laboratory, Punjo advanced toward Dmitri, the man responsible for creating the poison that now threatened Faya’s life.

  Punjo: "Cabdan poisoned someone in the slums a while back... A tiny cut was all it took for a young girl to be at death's door in just a few days' time. No known antidotes can cure her, and if nothing's dun' soon, she'll be gone fer good in less than a week, given the state she's in."

  Dmitri recoiled, his entire frame trembling under Punjo’s looming presence.

  Punjo: "I know you made the poison... But this don’t gotta be personal. Maybe you were just followin’ orders... So hand over the antidote, and no harm comes to ya. You have my word."

  Dmitri shook his head, eyes darting around for an escape.

  Dmitri: "Your word? I don’t even know your name! What good is the word of some -- some burglar?!"

  The man keeps retreating, mistrustful of Punjo's intentions.

  Punjo: "'Ight... I tried being nice. 'Fraid we dun' have the time ta become friends before your excellency decides to give me what I need, so let's cut the crap -- ya don't have much of a choice 'ere, bud. You'll be handin' over that antidote... question is if ye'll do it before or after I knock yer teeth out."

  Step by step, Punjo herded him back, cornering him against the large table draped with a bloodstained tarp. Trapped. But as Dmitri’s fingers brushed the tainted fabric, something changed.

  The fear in his face melted away, replaced by something colder. Calculated.

  Dmitri: "Don't have much of a choice...? I beg to differ."

  His voice, once trembling, now dripped with arrogance.

  Punjo: "... Right. Beatin' it is, then".

  Although Punjo was not intimidated by Dmitri's posture shift, the man wasn't all talk. With a sudden flourish, Dmitri ripped the tarp from the table and hurled it at Punjo. The heavy cloth tangled around him, blinding him for only a second -- but a second was all Dmitri needed.

  Punjo barely had time to tear the fabric away before the sharp creak of a drawer opening rang out. He whipped around -- too late.

  Dmitri now stood at the other end of the table, a syringe clutched tightly in one hand.

  Dmitri: "You think you’re the only one willing to spill blood...?!"

  Punjo lunged, but Dmitri was faster.

  With a single, decisive motion, he plunged the needle into the chest of the thing lying beneath the tarp.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Dmitri: "I’m sorry, my dear... but it seems you’ll have to wake up early."

  Punjo slammed into him, pinning him against the wall, but Dmitri only laughed -- a manic, unhinged cackle.

  And then, from behind them... came the sound of bones snapping.

  Punjo’s grip tightened as he turned his head -- just a glance -- but one was more than enough.

  A grotesque, contorted humanoid writhed atop the table. Four arms, each twitching violently, peeled away from the rusted shackles that had bound them. Exposed muscle gleamed, glistening and raw, while jagged bones jutted out of its warped flesh. Pus leaked from rotting patches, staining the table beneath it a sickly yellow-green.

  Punjo: "The hell is that thing?!"

  A wide grin split Dmitri’s face -- a scientist’s pride... A madman’s triumph.

  Dmitri: "Cabdan always loved his arena fights... but he could never find a fighter worthy of his vision. After all, you cannot find what does not exist."

  The thing lurched upright, unsteady, its movements jerky and erratic -- as though it wasn’t yet sure how to move.

  Dmitri: "So I *made* one."

  Punjo growled, yanking Dmitri into a chokehold. He needed answers -- and an antidote -- but whatever that thing was, he knew it wasn’t meant to be alive.

  Punjo: "Knew I shoulda brought my damn mallet..."

  The creature spasmed violently, knocking over shelves as it flailed, sending vials of strange chemicals crashing to the ground. It was hungry, but it didn’t know for what.

  Dmitri’s voice was almost tender as he watched his abomination stumble.

  Dmitri: "It still hungers... poor thing. It needed more..."

  The creature twitched, its grotesque, spasming limbs adjusting to their inhuman length. Then, realization dawned.

  It was trapped.

  And it was starving.

  With a shriek that rattled the glass vials on the shelves, it lashed out, its four arms carving through the lab like massive cleavers. Wood splintered. Metal crumpled. Tables buckled and collapsed under its monstrous assault. Chemicals spilled in iridescent puddles, filling the air with a sickly, acrid stench.

  Punjo gritted his teeth.

  Punjo: "Dammit. Won't be long 'til that thing wrecks the antidote...!"

  Dmitri laughed, a ragged, breathless sound dripping with cruelty.

  Dmitri: "That's your concern? You should be worrying about your own survival!"

  Punjo sighed.

  Punjo: "... Yer an idiot. Ya know that?"

  With one sharp motion, he released his grip on Dmitri, grabbed him by the collar, and slammed a fist into his nose. The sickening crunch of bone breaking was lost in the chaos, yet the same could not be said for the spray of blood that followed.

  Dmitri stumbled back, crumpling to the floor, his arrogant smirk replaced by gurgled, pained gasps.

  Punjo loomed over him.

  Punjo: "Big ‘n strong’s only part o’ the equation."

  Dmitri clutched his face, eyes watering, too stunned to react.

  Punjo: "Ever tried breakin’ a thick glass pane with yer bare hands? You'd shatter every bone in yer body tryin’ and still wouldn’t put a dent in it."

  Then, without warning -- Punjo’s boot came down, hard, on Dmitri’s ankle.

  A sharp, wet crack filled the room.

  Dmitri screamed.

  Punjo: "But if ya hit a weak point... even the toughest of things crumble."

  Dmitri convulsed on the floor, clutching his ruined ankle, his breath coming in frantic, wheezing gasps.

  Punjo straightened, shaking the pain out of his knuckles -- just in time to feel the weight of something watching him.

  He turned.

  The creature had stopped its rampage.

  Its oozing, misshapen head was tilted slightly, its eyeless face turned toward them -- or rather, toward the noise. The impact. The break.

  It lurched forward, drawn in by the sound of weakness.

  Punjo exhaled, rolling his shoulders.

  Punjo: "Yer a scientist, ain’tcha, Mister Dmitri?"

  Dmitri whimpered.

  Punjo: "Then ya should know this better’n most."

  The creature’s hulking form loomed closer, its breath gurgling, a thick, wet wheeze rattling deep in its chest.

  Punjo’s keen eyes flicked over its body -- the warped flesh, the exposed muscle, the sections where rot had eaten into the tissue.

  Weak points.

  Punjo: "Ain’t got a damn clue what kinda freakshow ya stitched together here..."

  He clenched his fists.

  Punjo: "But it’s riddled with ‘em."