Kingdom Hearts: Consumed by Darkness

Kurai was already at his side, dragging him through.

But just as they crossed the threshold, Jetsam's tail caught Helios in the back.

He cried out, flipping forward into the portal, blood trailing behind him.

They landed in the coral-strewn depths outside the lair's veil with a crash. The corridor was sealed behind them.

Silence.

For several moments, neither spoke. Helios winced, pressing a hand to his bleeding side. Kurai, breathing heavily, kept her blades drawn, eyes still fixed on the trench.

"We were seconds from getting her," she said coldly.

"I know," Helios groaned.

"That stupid eel nearly gutted you."

"I know that, too," groaned Helios as he cast a Curaga spell on himself.

They were quiet again.

Finally, Helios said, "But now we know more. She's not evolving. She's incubating. The parasite is keeping her asleep while feeding her more power—and guarding her."

Kurai looked at him. "That thing, the octopus. That thing didn't seem to have been born in this world. It seemed to come from a similar world."

"Really?" Helios agreed, standing slowly. "It seemed like it belonged here, but if you say so, it must be true. Anyways, the parasite might have pulled it from another world."

Kurai narrowed her eyes at him. "Here they come. This time," she said, "we kill the eels first."

The rift between dimensions howled as the veil was torn asunder. From the chaotic whirlpool of shadow and collapsed time, Flotsam and Jetsam burst into the ocean like missiles of darkness—mutated far beyond their previous forms.

Now massive, coiling monsters as long as sea serpents, their fins had become blade-like, spines lining their backs like jagged coral. Eyes like golden searchlights scanned the deep, and their fangs pulsed with venomous glow.

Behind them slithered the true terror—a creature pulled from myth: Zmey Vodianoy. Its twelve writhing limbs churned the water like drills, its massive serpentine head covered in armored scales of volcanic black. Lightning danced along its tongue, and its dozen eyes glowed with the wisdom of an ancient predator.

Helios and Kurai were already moving. There was no space for fear.

"Split them!" Kurai shouted, her voice sharp as her twin blades of darkness. "You take the beast—I'll gut the snakes!"

She was already in motion. Flotsam lunged first, maw wide, but she dove under, slicing upward in a scissor motion. Its underbelly tore open, and black ichor sprayed out in clouds. Jetsam retaliated, its tail whipping with monstrous force, but Kurai vanished in shadow, appearing above it with a smirk. A massive lance of darkness impaled its shoulder, driving it into a jagged reef wall.

Helios summoned Equilibrium, but he felt something was off. The pressure around him thickened unnaturally—his connection to light and darkness seemed even more unstable. He muttered a spell: "Firaga—!" But the magic sputtered, erupting half-formed and backfiring. The flame exploded in front of him, blasting him backward into a coral spire.

Blood leaked from his lips. His ribs burned. He barely had time to dodge before the Zmey descended.

The ancient monster roared, and the sound distorted space. Lightning arced toward Helios, who raised Reflect—only for it to fracture. The bolt slammed into his arm, searing and igniting the skin beneath.

He screamed, barely holding on.

Kurai was dancing on a storm. She leapt from one beast to the other, stabbing and slashing, cutting deep into muscle and scale. She landed a punch to Flotsam's eye, then carved a series of jagged lines down Jetsam's spine. They bled thick black trails—but didn't slow down.

Helios called forth Blizzard, then Water, chaining them desperately. The spells collided in mid-cast, erupting in a volatile blast that hurled him into the seabed. The cold invaded his body and made it hard for him to move.

"No," he hissed. "Not now."

The Zmey opened its jaw, building a sphere of energy so dense it warped the surrounding water. Helios, too weak to dodge, raised one trembling hand.

Helios tried to activate his Dark Mode, but the darkness didn't answer him.

Instead, something else inside him did.

A scream—not of pain, but fury—broke free of his chest. Something more potent than his darkness exploded from his body like a bomb, coiling into fangs and talons. Equilibrium vanished in his hands.

His body contorted.

His limbs elongated, sinew twisting unnaturally as his body was covered in darkness and reformed. Jet-black spikes burst from his back and shoulders, curving like living thorns. Darkness stitched itself into his very being, jagged and almost skeletal, clinging to him like shadow made flesh.

His face split into a devil's grin—mouth stretching impossibly wide, lined with rows of glowing, knife-sharp teeth. His eyes became blazing slits of molten gold, locked in a permanent glare of hunger and hatred.

Where his heart should have been, a pulsating, glowing insignia now throbbed with violent energy—the unmistakable symbol of a Heartless, only corrupted and inverted, its orange-yellow light bleeding outward in lightning-like cracks across his chest and arms.

From his back extended chaotic tendrils—neither wings nor fins, but sharp, flickering spires of energy that flicked like the fronds of a burning, ink-drenched flame. They lashed and writhed with every heartbeat, destabilizing the water around him.

This wasn't Helios.

This was something born of pure instinct and void—a manifestation of corrupted imbalance.

In his place stood a monster.

The Zmey didn't hesitate—it struck. But the new Helios caught its head in one clawed hand mid-charge.

And crushed it.

The bones split with a sound like snapping anchors. The Zmey roared, biting and coiling, but the monstrous Helios didn't yield. He let it wrap around him—and then tore free, his wings slicing through scales, his claws ripping into exposed muscle.

Kurai, mid-duel, paused as she felt the shift. A shadow deeper than hers flooded the water. She looked—and her face hardened.

"What did you do now?" she whispered.

Helios let out a roar, louder than thunder. The Zmey spasmed, one of its heads ripped clean off and hurled into the trench below. The other head was impaled on Helios' back wing tendrils. He bit into the beast's throat with jagged fangs. Darkness spilled from the wounds—not just blood, but essence. Magic.

Flotsam and Jetsam felt it too. Wounded and bleeding, they darted toward the rift, retreating from Kurai's assault. She let them go, eyes on the creature wearing Helios' body.

The Zmey thrashed one last time before Helios crushed its spine, splitting it in half and letting the remains drift into darkness.

And then he turned toward her.

Kurai braced, summoning her strongest barrier. "Helios," she said aloud. "You don't want to make me do this. Trust me on that."

But he was already charging.

His strike was fast—too fast. She barely deflected his claws. Shadows scraped her shoulder, slicing into muscle. Her counterstrike landed a blow to his side, but it didn't even slow him. He was all rage and movement, no hesitation, no restraint.

He roared again, a sound that sent shockwaves through her bones.

"Helios!" she shouted. "If you don't stop, I'll be forced to kill you!"

He lunged, and she caught him with a sphere of darkness, forcing him back. But her arms trembled. His strength was unrelenting.

Then, remembering what had worked before—when she was still trapped—Kurai dropped her weapons, let the shadows slide from her hands, and floated forward.

He swung, claws grazing her cheek—but she didn't retreat.

She pressed her forehead to his.

"Come back to me," she whispered. "This isn't your strength. You're being controlled and molded by another. Reject this power and form. Remember your insignificant goal of resurrecting your mother and father."

For a moment, the monster twitched. His eyes flickered. Darkness roared around them—but she held firm.

The black skin peeled back slowly, like a cocoon melting in light.

And beneath it, Helios collapsed—bloodied, broken, and unconscious. His body had not healed in this form. It had moved only by hatred and darkness, ignoring pain and damage.

Kurai caught him before he hit the floor of the sea. Her arms trembled—not from strain, but from something else she didn't understand.

"Idiot," she whispered. "You've pushed yourself too far this time."

She looked up into the quiet dark, the rift finally closed, the enemies gone. The path to Ursula was sealed, and there was nothing to do until she emerged, as Kurai didn't know any time magic to reopen the rift.