𝐔𝐧𝐝𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬

6: Bite Back

Wake up. The pit opens up. Bag drops. Pit closes. Then...

Hiss.

Aziz was ready this time, crouching in the shadows as the obsidian snake slithered closer. He could see everything now, as if a ghostly moonlight illuminated the pit. His eyes had sharpened, adjusted to the perpetual gloom. The elders had spoken of this creature—the black-death, a serpent thought to be extinct. Its scales were as black as coal, its eyes gleaming like rubies in the darkness. The snake flicked out its forked tongue, tasting the air as it drew nearer. Aziz waited, his muscles tense, his breath controlled. He had replayed this moment in his mind over and over, refining his plan with each death.

"Come on, you cursed beast," Aziz muttered, his voice low, coaxing the snake forward.

The black-death moved with purpose, inching closer, unaware of the trap being laid for it. Just as it had done in the previous cycles, the snake coiled, preparing to strike. In a blur of motion, it lunged at Aziz's neck. But this time, he was ready. He swerved his head to the side, ignoring the sharp pain in his ribs, and with a lightning-fast motion, his hands clamped around the snake's throat. It hissed in frustration, its tail flailing wildly as it tried to free itself from his grip.

Aziz pinned the snake to the ground, his chest heaving with the effort. He let out a triumphant roar, a mixture of joy and relief flooding through him.

"I've done it!" he laughed, the sound echoing off the walls of the pit. "I've won!"

His laughter quickly devolved into a fit of coughing, his body trembling with exhaustion. The snake struggled in his grasp, its movements becoming more frantic as it realized its fate. But Aziz's triumph was short-lived. He didn't have the tools to kill it, and his strength was already waning. He looked around, his eyes scanning the barren pit, but there was nothing—no rocks, no sharp edges, nothing to finish the job. His grip would eventually weaken, and when it did, the snake would be free to kill him again. All his efforts would be for nothing.

No. He wouldn't let that happen. He couldn't die again. He wouldn't be prey—not this time, not ever again.

Something primal, something dark, stirred within him. The pit, this cruel, endless cycle of death, had birthed a new Aziz—a creature of rage and desperation. In a moment of pure barbarity, Aziz gave in to the abyss that had grown inside him, a reflection of the despair and anger that had consumed him.

With a frenzied growl, Aziz turned the snake, keeping it pinned to the ground. It writhed and hissed, its tail thrashing as it fought for its life. But Aziz was relentless. He held its mouth shut with one hand and, with the other, he bent down and bit into the snake's neck. At first, his teeth struggled to penetrate the tough, scaly hide, but he didn't stop. He couldn't afford to. He gnawed at the scales until his teeth broke through, sinking into the flesh beneath.

The black-death spasmed violently as it was being eaten alive, its violet eyes locking onto Aziz's, its gaze filled with a mix of shock and fear. But Aziz didn't care. He was past caring. He tore into the snake's flesh, cursing it under his breath as he chewed and swallowed. The taste was foul, metallic, the blood mixing with poison as it dripped down his throat, but he didn't stop. The more he ate, the more energized he felt, the poison burning in his stomach but warming him against the cold of the pit.

When the snake finally stopped moving, its life drained away, Aziz didn't stop. He continued to devour the creature, reveling in his victory, his mind in a haze of primal satisfaction. The flesh was tough, but he forced it down, swallowing large chunks without bothering to chew. Blood mixed with venom dribbled down his chin, staining the dirt beneath him.

When it was over, Aziz sat back, his body trembling, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He should have felt sickened by what he had done, but instead, he felt a strange sense of fullness, of power. The poison still burned, but it was a different kind of burn, a warmth that spread through his veins, chasing away the chill of the pit.

"There's no going back," Aziz whispered to himself, his voice barely audible in the darkness. This was it. He had made his choice. Dying here was no longer an option.

He retreated to the corner of the pit, exhaustion finally overtaking him. For the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to rest. The ache in his ribs had dulled, the pain from his earlier struggles fading as he slipped into a fitful sleep, a spark of hope flickering in his heart. He had done it. He had beaten his first wall, claimed his first victory in the dark.

Hours later, Aziz was jolted awake by the sound of the pit door opening again. He had no way to tell how much time had passed, but he guessed it was day again, judging by the light filtering down. This time, it wasn't the Captain who peered down at him, but one of the subordinates. The man dropped another pouch into the pit, unaware of the battle that had taken place below. Aziz didn't move, feigning weakness as he watched the pit seal up once more.

Once he was sure the pit was sealed, Aziz stood up and made his way to the pouch. Inside, he found more bread, the same stale, dry bread he had been given every day. But this time, he ate it with purpose, not merely to survive, but to prepare. His ribs no longer hurt as they had before, only a lingering soreness reminding him of his ordeal.

Was the flesh of the black-death always so beneficial? Aziz wondered, chewing thoughtfully. Perhaps that's why they were hunted to extinction. But none of the hunters ever thought to consume its poison. None of them ever had the chance to come back to life after dying. Aziz was the exception.

He finished the bread quickly, knowing that if he were to survive and find a way out of this place, he would need more than this meagre meal. He needed more snakes. The pit was no longer an impenetrable darkness—it was more like a dimly lit room, allowing him to move freely without stumbling into the walls. Aziz began pacing, his mind racing with thoughts, plans forming in the back of his mind.

How did the snake get into the pit? Aziz asked himself, recalling his father's words from their hunts together.

"Anything can happen on a hunt. The hunter must adapt to the hunt or risk losing everything. Are you listening to me, Aziz?"

"Yes, father," a much younger Aziz had replied, struggling to hold his father's bow, eager on his first hunt.

"Men are weak. Yet we are the greatest of hunters. Because of this," his father had tapped the side of his head, "So use it."

Aziz opened his eyes, a newfound clarity settling over him. The first question was simple: How did the snake get in the pit? When he was first thrown in, there had been no snake, which meant it appeared sometime later. It didn't come from the ceiling; his captors had sealed that properly. So, it must have come from the ground.

Aziz began to examine the walls of the pit, methodically searching for any clues. After a few minutes, he found it—a small hole in the opposite wall, just large enough for a snake to slither through. The earth around the hole was different, not as compacted as the rest of the pit. This must be where the black-death had entered.

The earth here has been toughened, manipulated, likely by a martial artist. Aziz remembered hearing about the Dong-Rock family from the capital, one of the seven greatest families in the kingdom, known for their mastery over the earth. But what would a member of one of the seven greatest families have to do with the kidnapping of children? The pieces didn't fit, but that was a problem for later. Right now, what mattered was that this wall was weak.

If the snake could get through, maybe he could too. Aziz's heart raced with renewed hope. Things were starting to look up. The faces of the masked men and the memory of his best friend's decapitated head flashed through his mind, fuelling the fire within him.

"I will find all of you and kill you bastards," Aziz swore, his voice steady and cold.

He had made his choice. There was no turning back. He would survive. He would escape. And when he did, he would make sure those who had put him here would pay for every ounce of suffering they had caused him.

Aziz clenched his fists, his resolve hardening as he stared at the small hole in the wall. This was his way out. He would dig, claw, and fight his way through, no matter how long it took. The time for despair was over.

The hunt had begun.