The tunnel's rough, damp air whipped past Bathilda's newly expanded wings as she plummeted, a dark arrow aimed at the heart of the Brat infestation. Her evolution, a sleek yet empowering transformation into a Blood Sucking Bat, had doubled her size, amplifying her predatory presence. A surge of confidence, thick and primal, coursed through her veins.

  Are you ready, Hiro? she projected, her mental voice a low hum.

  "Yes," the disembodied voice replied, a flicker of apprehension in its tone. "Although I doubt that I will be of any assistance. There isn't much I can do without a body."

  Nonsense, Bathilda scoffed, her voice a rasping echo in her own mind. You're a second pair of eyes. Watch my back. Easy enough, right? The urgency of her mission, the need to quell the Brat threat, sharpened her focus.

  "In that case, I will do my best," Hiro conceded, his tone still ced with doubt.

  Bathilda, buoyed by the prospect of backup, though she hoped she wouldn't need it, burst into the open cavern that served as the Brats' nest. The air was thick with the stench of damp earth and the musky, feral odor of the rodents. The closest Brat, a hulking, scabby creature, stood near the entrance, its beady eyes gzed over, seemingly oblivious to her approach. A wave of predatory satisfaction washed over Bathilda.

  The distance between them evaporated in a heartbeat. The Brat, its senses finally snapping to attention, emitted a high-pitched shriek, a sound of pure, unadulterated fear. But its cry was abruptly cut short, silenced by the razor-sharp arc of Bathilda's (Wing Ssh). The creature's head, severed cleanly, tumbled to the ground, a grotesque, twitching thing.

  The cavern erupted in a cacophony of shrieks. The Brats, their eyes gleaming with malicious intent, voiced their outrage. The bone-chilling symphony reverberated through the tunnel, a primal chorus of fear and aggression. But Bathilda, her senses overwhelmed by a sudden, intense compulsion, barely registered the noise. Her eyes were fixated on the crimson pool spreading from the headless Brat, the viscous liquid shimmering under the dim light.

  Unnoticed, the level-up notification fshed in her periphery, a meaningless blip in the storm raging within her. Hiro's frantic shouts, a desperate plea for reason, were lost in the maelstrom of her instincts.

  An overwhelming, irresistible urge, a primal hunger, seized control of her body. She was no longer a conscious observer, but a puppet dancing to the tune of her basest desires.

  The scent of the Brat's blood, warm and fresh, filled her senses, a heady, intoxicating aroma. It was a siren's call, a promise of forbidden pleasure. Her body, moving with a terrifying autonomy, propelled her towards the fallen creature. She descended upon the corpse like a ravenous beast, her fangs sinking deep into its still-warm flesh.

  The world dissolved into a blur of crimson and sensation. All she could hear was the rhythmic gurgling of blood being drawn, a guttural symphony of consumption. All she could see was the glistening, viscous liquid, a dark, alluring nectar. All her senses were consumed by the taste of the blood, a sweet, metallic tang that sent shivers of primal satisfaction through her.

  She drank with a savage abandon, draining the corpse dry, her mind a bnk canvas painted with the crimson hues of her hunger. The blood, once a delightful elixir, abruptly turned bitter, a vile, metallic taste that made her gag.

  "Bathilda!" Hiro's voice, sharp and urgent, cut through the haze. "Bathilda!"

  W-What? Bathilda choked, her mind struggling to surface from the depths of her bloodlust. She felt as though she had emerged from a fever dream, her head pounding, her senses reeling.

  "Fly now! Fly!" Hiro screamed, his voice a desperate plea. "Fly or we're both going to die again! Fly!!"

  The notion of death jolted Bathilda into action, snapping her out of her stupor. Without questioning Hiro's fear, she trusted his instincts. She unched herself into the air, her powerful wings propelling her upwards, away from the source of the impending danger.

  As she reached the ceiling, she was met with a torrent of Hiro's furious words. "What in the fucking hell was that?"

  Bathilda, her mind still clouded by the lingering effects of her bloodlust, struggled to formute a response. She remembered every detail of her feral feeding, the intoxicating scent, the sweet taste, the overwhelming compulsion.

  What was what? she feigned ignorance, hoping to deflect Hiro's anger.

  "Don't you dare 'What was what' me! You know damn well what I mean. I understand you need to drink blood now because of your evolution, but I didn't expect you to turn feral."

  I didn't turn feral! Bathilda snapped, her pride wounded. "I was... focused."

  "If that's true, then why didn't you answer me when I called you?"

  I was... she stammered, searching for a pusible excuse.

  "Feral?" Hiro pressed, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

  No! I was...

  "Obsessed?"

  "No! I was..."

  "Zoned in?"

  Y-Yes. That's right. I was zoned in.

  "Nope. I'm calling BS on that. The need for blood had a hold over you and you know it did. What's going to happen when you kill another Brat and lose it while there are still others alive?"

  Bathilda fell silent, unable to offer a rebuttal. The image of herself, lost in the throes of her bloodlust, surrounded by enraged Brats, sent a chill down her spine. She looked down at the four remaining rodents, their beady eyes fixed on her, their bodies tensed for attack.

  Just then, a massive boulder hurtled through the air, aimed directly at her. With a swift, instinctive maneuver, she dodged to the left, the projectile smming into the ceiling, sending a shower of debris raining down. The cavern transformed into a chaotic storm of falling rocks and dust.

  Bathilda, her wings beating furiously, performed a series of evasive maneuvers, dodging the onsught of debris. The Brats, their eyes gleaming with malice, continued to unch projectiles, their attacks relentless.

  "Little bastards!" Hiro excimed, echoing Bathilda's thoughts.

  Horrible, little bastards is more like it, Bathilda muttered, her thoughts a low growl.

  She descended towards the ground, edging back towards the tunnel entrance, creating a buffer between herself and the relentless Brat assault. The moment her feet touched the ground, the remaining rodents charged, their movements swift and coordinated.

  Bathilda tried to steady her nerves, her mind racing. The chaotic hail of rocks and the relentless Brat assault had thrown her off bance. She focused on her pn, her wings beating rhythmically, ready to unleash another devastating (Wing Ssh).

  The Brats, dispying a surprising level of tactical awareness, spread out as they approached, attempting to encircle her. Bathilda recognized their strategy, a tactic they had employed during their previous encounter. If only they would line up, one single (Wing Ssh) would end them all.

  As the first Brat entered her range, Bathilda unleashed her attack. The razor-sharp bdes of air tore through the creature's limbs, severing them cleanly. The monster let out a pathetic whimper before colpsing to the ground, its blood spreading across the cavern floor.

  The Brats, their formation broken, quickly regrouped, closing the gap left by their fallen comrade. They continued to circle, their movements slow and deliberate, their eyes fixed on Bathilda.

  The brief respite, however, was enough. Bathilda's mind, still battling the lingering effects of her bloodlust, was drawn to the pool of blood spreading from the fallen Brat. The vibrant crimson liquid, its scent a sweet, intoxicating aroma, pulled at her, a primal urge she struggled to resist. Her cws scraped against the stone floor, her body trembling with the effort.

  As the Brats' circle tightened, Bathilda's resolve crumbled. Her mind, lost in the intoxicating allure of the blood, succumbed to her primal cravings.

  "Bathilda!" Hiro's voice, a desperate plea, echoed in her mind. "Bathilda!"

  It's... just... so... beautiful, Bathilda murmured, her voice a low, guttural growl.

  She lunged towards the limbless Brat, her fangs sinking deep into its flesh. For the second time that day, she surrendered to her bloodlust, the sweet, metallic taste of the blood filling her senses, drowning out all other thoughts.