Shhhhkkkt—
Theon's crystalline blade cut across one of the central wires.
And then he saw the world dissolved into blue-white annihilation...
To an observer, it might have looked like spectral claws of lightning raking his convulsing form, but Theon experienced it as the cosmos itself was pouring molten lead through every nerve. His skeleton became a lightning rod, muscles locking in a grotesque parody of crucifixion as fifty thousand volts cooked him alive from the inside out.
He immediately crumpled onto the floor, intensely spasming, his otherwise red veins glowing with an ethereal blue. His jaw clamped with enough force to shatter molars. Yet through some cruel miracle, consciousness persisted. Unable to form any cohesive thoughts or move any muscles, all he could do was lie there, writhing on the floor as his skin kept ripping and reforming.
His veins ignited.
Not metaphorically—his actual blood caught fire, crimson plasma shimmering with golden embers. The combustion should have killed him but instead it supercharged his regeneration, each flaming droplet sewing flesh back together faster than the lightning could char it.
Within his ravaged body, a cosmic battle raged. The lightning sought earth through any available path, scorching nerve clusters and fusing capillaries shut even as his meridians wove the current into intricate swirling patterns, transforming raw destruction into something resembling circulation as his meridians instinctually remembered the [Momentus Flow Art]. The pendant's energy and his ignited blood worked furiously to stitch flesh faster than electricity could char it, creating a horrific equilibrium of destruction and regeneration.
The lightning was determined to rid all that stood in its way.
Fortunately for Theon, this included all of the impurities that were present in his meridians. Toxins accumulated over a lifetime of imperfection vaporized instantly. Violet miasma seeped from his pores like escaping spirits, carrying away the dross of imperfect cultivation. In another world, under different circumstances, such purification would be worth kingdoms. Men had killed for lesser cleansings.
Though unfortunately for Theon, his very own meridians quickly became "in the way" for the lightning.
BANG
His meridian walls burst. Then another. Then another.
The effect was instantaneous. White-hot agony detonated behind his eyes as the lightning breached containment. His left arm bent at impossible angles, fingers locking into rigor-mortis claws. Capillaries in his right eye ruptured, flooding his vision with crimson. Another meridian exploded along his spine, bending him backward until vertebrae groaned in protest.
Normally, damage to the meridians, let alone their entire bursting, made it nearly impossible for Lu to flow and were akin to a death sentence for any cultivators.
To any bystander, Theon was already a corpse.
And yet death never came to collect.
Where the lightning obliterated old pathways, it also carved wider channels through the wreckage. The pendant's healing energy rushed into these freshly scorched trenches, reinforcing walls with scar tissue stronger than the original flesh. Meanwhile, his ignited blood quickly reinforced the stray surges of lightning that broke out of his meridians, creating entirely original paths.
His body became a living crucible. Each catastrophic failure birthed greater capacity. Every healing surge left the reconstructed pathways denser than before. The cycle repeated—shatter, expand, rebuild, reinforce—until his meridian network resembled a lightning-struck oak: ravaged by fire, yet paradoxically mightier for having survived the blaze.
When the storm finally passed, Theon lay twitching in a pool of his own fluids, his body humming with unfamiliar power.
He tried to stand.
His legs betrayed him instantly.
'Well that could have gone better.' Theon mused, spitting out the blood in his mouth as he felt the copper aftertaste.
He really wasn't sure what had come over him that made him cut the wire, and he immediately reprimanded himself for it. Since when was playing russian roulette with ancient circuitry a rational decision? It wasn't even a life or death situation!
His second attempt to stand succeeded, though his muscles still twitched with residual current. The fuse box sat innocently intact, its surface betraying no evidence of the near-death experience it had delivered. Only the faintest charcoal streaks inside hinted at the violence that had occurred, exposing deeper circuits like surgical wounds.
Then came the clarity.
And then, because apparently he'd learned nothing, he swapped another pair of wires. His fingers moved before his mind caught up—like a marionette tugged by unseen strings.
His fingers moved with alien precision, unplugging one wire and slotting it home elsewhere. The action felt inevitable—like remembering a childhood skill rather than learning something new. Mental fog lifted; his body moved with liquid certainty, his thoughts cut through the world like a honed blade.
But the moment the connection snapped home, clarity slammed back into him like a bucket of ice water.
'Wait.'
'What the fuck did I just do?'
His breath caught. His fingers still tingled where they'd brushed the wires. That same eerie confidence had taken over—no, hijacked—his actions. And now, as if to mock him, the faintest spark prickled against his skin. He just didn't realize the current brushing his skin now equaled what had nearly killed him moments before.
'Now the doors should be open as well as the second door' he thought—then immediately recoiled at his own certainty.
'….or the lights'
'….or nothing'
Shaking his head, Theon turned to leave. Alive was good enough. Whatever strange instinct had guided him here could—
Snap.
The sound froze him mid-step. Slowly, he turned back to see the trapdoor gaping open like a hungry mouth.
Theon's fingers twitched toward his blades as he stared into the blackness below. His mind raced through the dangers: He had no idea what lurked down there. The door couldn't be closed behind him, leaving him vulnerable to any zombies that might follow. And most disturbing of all, he still didn't understand why he'd acted so recklessly with those wires.
But... His thoughts countered; 'I haven't seen a single zombie in hours. And wandering aimlessly hasn't gotten me anywhere.' A deeper truth surfaced: 'I still don't even know why I'm here. Whatever's down there... it might have answers. Or at least supplies. Or it might kill me. But staying up here certainly won't solve anything.'
The night air filled his lungs one last time, crisp and cool. Above, the stars watched silently, offering no counsel. Theon's lips pressed into a thin line.
Then he stepped forward, letting the darkness take him as he descended.