Ichor Cell-Chapter 31: Why are you running?

The cart rattled violently as Alex sprinted down the twisting tunnel, the wood groaning with every sharp turn. The sound of pursuit echoed behind them—dozens of claws scraping across the floor, guttural shrieks blending into a single, maddening roar.
“Hold on!” he shouted over his shoulder.
Grenil clung to the cart’s side with both hands, his knuckles white. Duran’s limp body lay slumped next to him, one arm bouncing lifelessly with each jolt.
It had taken Alex all of three seconds standing there waiting for the monsters to reach them to realise:
‘Oh wait, why should we wait for them in a dead end, when we can just run instead?’
Which is what he proceeded to do, after loading the old man and Duran’s body in the cart.
The tunnel forked. Alex chose left without thinking, uncaring of where it took him as long as it was
away
. The walls blurred past, their faint blue glow bending and shifting like the inside of a living thing. Every few seconds, something moved in the corner of his eye—shadowed claws, eyes—but he didn’t stop long enough to make them out.
Another screech tore through the dark. One of the monsters rounded a corner in front of them, close enough for Alex to see its silhouette—thin, long-limbed, its body glistening with a wet sheen.
“Go away!” he growled, dragging the cart faster. The wheels screamed against the uneven ground, sparks occasionally bursting when the metal rim hit stones.
The ceiling lowered suddenly. He ducked under a low arch of wood and nearly lost his grip when the cart slammed into the side, the impact echoing like a gunshot. Splinters flew.
Grenil barely had time to let go of the side to avoid losing his fingers. “Be careful!”
“You’re welcome to run yourself if you’d prefer!”
Another corner, another branch. He veered right this time. Behind them, the shrieks multiplied—the creatures splitting up, spreading through the maze.
For a few terrifying minutes, it was chaos. Every tunnel looked the same, and twice he nearly ran straight into another group of monsters. One time, he couldn’t avoid it, shoulder barging through a monster blocking the way, crushing it against the wall before it could even react. This one was much less intimidating than the spiked one. It looked more like a bird, with scarily sharp talons and a wicked looking beak.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t really much help in a tunnel. Its bones snapped like twigs.
In fact, nothing they had seen so far was as strong—or at least as difficult to fight—as the spiked creature from before. They were fast, yes, but not as fast as him. As long as he kept moving, they couldn’t surround him.
The maze twisted again and again; Alex had long since lost count of the number of turns he had taken. The noise of pursuit behind him began to fade, until only one remained.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Alex didn’t even look back.
‘Persistent little bastard.’
He kept running, the tunnel bending downward slightly. The incline made it easier; gravity did some of the work for him, but the cart gained speed quickly, threatening to overtake him.
“You can slow down!” Grenil shouted. “I think we lost them!”
“No, we didn’t!” He shouted back, grateful for his superior senses.
Alex risked a glance over his shoulder and caught a glimpse of it—something lean and sinewy, built like a python with too many limbs—not very hard considering any number of limbs was too many. Its eyes burned pale yellow, fixed on him with animal focus.
The distraction cost him.
His foot got caught on a root jutting out of the tunnel floor, almost sending him flying face-first into the ground. The creature howled at the opportunity and lunged forward, claws scraping against the ground as it gained speed.
“Grenil, hang on!”
“What do you think I’ve been doing?!”
The sound grew louder—thumping steps, rasping breath, the clatter of spines scraping the walls. Alex could practically feel it breathing down his neck. He tightened his grip on the cart’s handle, then seemingly came to a decision.
Taking inspiration from his near fall, he collapsed forward, gritting his teeth as the ground shredded the skin on his arms. Flattening himself as much as possible, he let the full speed cart roll over him, carrying Grenil and Duran’s body further away.
He turned to face the monster, arms already healed.
It came bounding toward him, its mouth splitting open to reveal a tangle of shark teeth. He sidestepped the first bite, barely avoiding a follow up set of claws that cut the air where his head had been.
He couldn’t avoid the tail swipe that followed
that
, tanking the hit with his arms as the muscular limb sent him flying down the corridor.
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“Fine.” He got up with a grunt, massaging his sore forearms. “You wanted to chase me down? Well, you did. Now what?”
He lashed out, a low kick aimed at one of the creature’s knees. It hit hard, snapping something inside with a crack. The beast shrieked, staggering. Alex pressed forward, hammering on top of its head, but it twisted aside and slashed at his ribs. The blow glanced off, cutting shallow lines into his skin.
They circled each other in the narrow space, trading quick strikes and feints. The creature was fast—faster than the others—but not very intelligent. It relied on instinct and brute speed, something Alex more than equalled it in. While it flailed about randomly, he could calmly beat the shit out of it.
It lunged again, mouth wide, going straight for his throat. Alex met it halfway, catching the sides of its jaws and forcing them apart. The teeth shredded his palms as they strained against him. With a scream, he twisted, using its momentum to slam it against the wall. Wood splintered, and the monster screeched, clawing wildly at his face.
He caught its wrist, drove a knee into its torso, and pinned it there. He flooded his arm with mana, his nails growing and taking on that obsidian edge and without hesitation, he rammed them through the creature’s neck.
The monster convulsed once, twice, then went still.
Alex held it there for a moment longer, making sure, before pulling free and letting the body slump to the floor. The inaudible buzzing of the dungeon air filled the void, like the low thrum of distant machinery.
He flexed his bleeding hands, watching the wounds knit themselves shut. “Not bad,” he muttered, half to himself. “I almost didn’t cry from the pain this time.”
Turning around, he saw the cart stopped a few dozen yards further down the tunnel, a bend in the path having arrested its forward momentum. Grenil peeked over the side, eyes wide. “Is it dead?”
Alex glanced back at the corpse. “Yeah.”
He walked back to the cart, grabbed the handles, and started moving again—slower this time. The silence around them felt strange, too still after the chaos of the chase, but he wasn’t about to complain.
They’d survived.
‘Speaking of survival…’
He stopped and turned back to the cart.
Duran’s body lay still where Grenil had tried to wedge him so he wouldn’t fall out during the run. His eyes were half-lidded, empty.
Alex stared for a while, frowning slightly.
He’d been so focused on not dying that he hadn’t had time to think about what exactly had happened to the ghoul. The thought that the ghoul had simply died—for no apparent reason at that—didn’t make sense to him. Something must have caused it.
In all the time he’d known Duran—which was his whole existence—the man had never eaten, drank, or absorbed anything that might constitute an energy source. It was easy to think ‘Oh, he’s undead, they just keep going until something kills them’ but…
Grenil looked at him questioningly. “Alex?”
“Thinking,” he murmured. “Don’t interrupt.”
He turned the idea over in his head, comparing it to his own experience. He needed blood to heal, to fuel his mana, to keep moving. The energy inside him wasn’t infinite—he could feel it thinning when he overused it.
Duran was made from his mana. A puppet running on borrowed fuel. And like any tool left running too long… that fuel eventually ran out.
“Please let me be right.” Alex muttered under his breath.
Grenil blinked. “What?”
He ignored him, crouching beside the body.
It made sense. If Duran’s existence relied on his magic, then the only way to restart him would be to feed more magic into his body. And the only thing that could do that was blood—
his
blood, already saturated with mana.
He exhaled slowly, flexing his hand. It was one thing to sustain grave bodily harm in a fight for his life; it was a whole other matter to willingly inflict it on himself in a calm situation.
“Alright,” he psyched himself up. “Just a quick slice, nothing more.”
Before he could hesitate, he flooded his arm with mana once again, and flicked the serrated nail across his other wrist. The edge sliced cleanly through his skin, a thin line of dark red welling up immediately.
Transferring the flow of mana from one arm to the other, he packed as much of it as he could into his bloodstream, the liquid taking on a light shimmer in response. Satisfied, he brought it to the corpse’s lips.
Grenil’s eyes widened. “What are you—”
“This should bring him back,” he explained. “If you hadn’t realised, Duran is basically a zombie reanimated by me. This is how I did it the first time, and I’m assuming he passed out from lack of energy, so this should fix it.”
At first, nothing happened. The blood streamed into the ghoul’s mouth before tapering into nothing as the wound sealed itself shut.
Disappointed, Alex was about to cut himself once again when Duran’s throat twitched, a quiet swallow breaking the silence.
“Come on.” Alex didn’t relax yet. Until Duran was awake and cognizant, he would not count his chickens.
Grenil took a cautious step back, clearly uncomfortable. “Is it supposed to do that?”
“Yep,” Alex replied without looking up.
The silence returned for half a heartbeat—then Duran’s fingers jerked. His hand clenched loosely, his veins bulging.
Alex lowered his wrist, watching intently. With a sudden inhale that sounded halfway between a gasp and a growl, Duran sat up.
Grenil stumbled back with a yelp.
Alex put up a hand, drawing the ghoul’s confused gaze to himself. “Hey, you with us?”
“Who…?” Duran blinked rapidly, his eyes unfocused.
Alex’s heart sank. “Please no…”
“Alexander?” Duran continued, his voice still confused but regaining some clarity. “What… what happened?”
“Oh, thank god.” Alex collapsed in relief, leaning back on his arms. “You’re back.”
“Back? Back from where? What are you talking about?” The ghoul asked again, annoyance bleeding into his voice.
“You fainted.” Alex finally replied, a smile on his face now that his fears were proven unfounded.
“Fainted?” Duran repeated blankly. He looked down at himself, then around the tunnel as if seeing it for the first time. “I don’t… remember that.”
“You ran out of mana,” Alex explained, standing and brushing off his hands. “Turns out you need regular maintenance. Guess I should’ve read the manual before making you.”
The ghoul frowned faintly. “Manual?”
“Never mind.”
Grenil stepped forward hesitantly. “Is he… safe?”
“For now,” Alex said, flexing his wrist. The wound had already sealed, leaving only silky smooth skin in its place. “He’s running again.”
Duran rubbed at his temple, still blinking as if his vision hadn’t settled yet. “I feel… strange. Lighter? No, emptier.”
“Yeah, that’s probably normal,” Alex said quickly, not entirely convinced himself. “Your mana was at zero. It took you a while to get a grip on your body the first time, so this is probably just a weakened version of that.”
Quickly moving on, he extended a hand to the sitting ghoul.
“Can you walk?”
“I think so.” Duran allowed himself to be pulled off the ground, shaking his limbs out. His movements were a bit jerky at first, but strength returned quickly.
“Good,” Alex said. “We’re not stopping until we find a way out of this damn place.”
Grenil nodded faintly, still pale.
Alex helped Grenil up into the cart again, faced it down the slope that had recently appeared and gestured for Duran to follow. “Let’s move.”