The warped: Dark seed saga

The apartment door splintered inward as Eri slammed through it, shadows coiling around her limbs like armor. The enforcers inside barely had time to react before she was on them.

One swung a chair. Another gripped a broken pipe, fingers trembling but determined. They were desperate. Not trained, not disciplined. Just animals backed into a corner, baring their teeth in a final act of defiance.

She almost laughed. They thought they could fight her?

A flick of her wrist, and the darkness obeyed.

The first enforcer lunged, pipe raised for a killing blow—Eri caught it mid-swing with her bare hand. Shadows surged from her skin, coating her fingers like blackened steel. The pipe crumpled under her grip.

The enforcer had time for one startled breath before her other hand crashed into his chest. Black roots burst from her knuckles, piercing straight through bone, flesh, and spine. He choked—then fell apart.

The second tried to bolt.

Eri didn't chase.

The floor moved. Roots lashed out, sprouting like vines, curling around his ankles. He hit the ground hard, clawing at the wood as the darkness dragged him back toward her.

He screamed, but she was already reaching down, her fingers pressing against his forehead. The roots from her skin crawled over his face, sinking into his flesh like veins of ink spreading through marble.

The scream faded into silence.

Another unnecessary death.

Another soul turned to nothing.

Eri exhaled, boredom spreading across her complexion. This was too easy.

Her hands tightened at her sides, the black tendrils wrapping her wrists unraveling like smoke.

She turned toward the next door—then stumbled.

Her vision blurred. For just a second, her knees buckled. The shadows around her flickered—just a fraction, just enough for her to feel it.

Her breath hitched.

No.

She lifted a trembling hand and looked down.

The black flower at her wrist—her mark of power, her anchor—

A petal fluttered loose.

Her composure faltered. Not now. Not yet.

She clenched her fist, forcing the shadows back into order, forcing her vision to clear. The enforcers in the other room were waiting, still hiding behind their makeshift weapons. They thought she was unstoppable.

She had to be.

Eri swallowed the weakness, locking it down.

She wasn't done yet.

Her mind was looking for any distraction. Anything to help calm her nerves. Her memory settling on the bus ride to this hellhole.

Mephisto's bloody gaze had gleamed even in the morning light, his irritation barely masked behind that ever-present smirk.

"You don't get to order me around, little tree."

Eri had stood her ground. "I am your queen. You sure as hell will do what I say."

Mephisto had laughed—a cruel, theatrical sound. "What you say?" He had leaned forward, that easy, fluid menace radiating from him. "How did that go back home, my queen."

Eri's menacing aura began to rise. "How dare you, Mephisto."

But she had seen it then—the flicker of true fury in his expression, the kind that lurked beneath the smirking mask.

And then Marisol had grabbed her hand.

"Eri," Marisol had said—not afraid, not hesitating.

Determined.

"He's right. We need to do this for him."

And for the first time, Eri had seen it—the weight of Marisol's choice. She wasn't just following anymore. She was thinking about her people.

She was leading.

And Eri couldn't turn her down.

Eri shoved the memory aside. She had made the right choice. A sharp ache bloomed in her ribs, spreading like frost beneath her skin. She ignored it. She had to.

Weakness wasn't an option. Not now. Not ever.

Now, she just had to clear the way before something happened—before Marisol saw too much, before she had to become something she wasn't ready for.

Another murderer.

But as she moved, she suddenly couldnt breath. The ache beneath her ribs deepened, like something hollowing her out from the inside. Her shadows—so fluid, so effortless—dragged for a fraction of a second.

It was barely noticeable.

But it was enough.

A metal bat cracked against her shoulder.

Pain flared, sharp and sudden, as she staggered back, a curse ripping from her lips. Another enforcer lunged—blade raised, aiming for her ribs.

Her body reacted before her mind could catch up. Shadows burst from her skin in jagged spikes, impaling the attacker mid-swing. His breath gurgled, eyes wide with shock before bursting into dust.

Eri clutched her shoulder, blinking hard against the ache. That should not have happened.

She looked down at her wrist. The flower was now purposely situated on her wrist.

Another petal had fallen.

Her jaw tightened. No.

This wasn't just fatigue. This was Marisol.

Something was happening—something was changing.

Eri's heart pounded against her ribs. What was she doing? Was she pushing too hard? Taking on too much?

She had to get back to her. Now.

Eri exhaled sharply, forcing herself to steady. No time to hesitate.

She turned toward the next room, shadows snapping to her command—stronger this time, sharper. Her control reasserted itself. The hesitation was gone.

The next enforcer barely had time to scream before she ended him.

But Eri's mind was already elsewhere.

She needed to find Marisol before it was too late

Eri turned, prepared to move forward—when the hairs on the back of her neck rose.

A presence.

Fast.

Dangerous.

A figure came crashing through the window behind her. The glass crunching under their feet as they stood.

She spun, shadows already curling around her arms—and met a pair of sharp, narrowed eyes.

Rowan stood at the broken window, her grip firm on her weapon—her weapon, the one Sylva had thrown into the crack. Even broken, even incomplete, Rowan held it like she was born wielding it.

For a brief moment, neither moved.

Then Rowan grinned. "Ugh, a mini boss...I don't have time for this."

Confused, Eri arched a brow. "You seem excited."

Rowan twirled the broken spear in her hands, stepping forward. "You have no idea."

The tension between them crackled, electric. Two warriors. Eri's mind ran a million miles a minute. Cursing what a cruel mistress fate was. Why was fate throwing even one of the otherworlds greatest heros at her to get in her way.

Rowan rolled her shoulders. "Alright, baby, dont let Mama down."

Rowan didn't know who this woman was. But she had that look—the kind that said she wasn't just a fighter, but something far worse.

Well. That just made things more fun.

Eri's grip on her shadows tightened. "Let's get this over with."

She was a problem. A legend. But legends didn't mean anything in the face of inevitability.

Neither hesitated.

The fight had begun.