GTS Syndrome Vol 2 Ch 17: The Raging Red Eye Monster, A Promise Made!

(Braden) 

She crouched above me, breathing hard, her red eyes locked on me like a predator about to go in for the kill. Her lips peeled back into a snarl, teeth bared, massive and white like tombstones. The heat of her breath beat down on me like a furnace.

I froze.

Not just from fear, but because any sudden move might be the wrong one. Might be the last one.

"Penelope..." I said, barely above a whisper as I took a single cautious step back. "Hey. It's me. It's Braden. You know, your friend? The guy you didn't squash back when you first met me?"

Her eyes narrowed.

A low, guttural growl vibrated from her throat. The kind that travels through the ground and settles into your spine like ice water. And then she spoke.

"How dare you..." she rumbled. Her voice was low—too low. Like something buried under rage. "How dare a man reject and attack me!"

Wait. What?

"Reject? Penelope, I didn't—!"

Too late.

She roared—and slammed her fist down like the wrath of the gods.

"WHOA—!"

The ground shattered beneath me. A shockwave of sand and stone exploded into the air, and I was gone—flying, flipping, screaming as a storm of debris battered my body like I'd jumped into a sandblaster.

Something cracked—maybe my shoulder, maybe a rib—I couldn't tell. Pain flared all over me. I hit the ground hard, skidding across the sand like a tossed pebble, until I tumbled flat onto my back, coughing and groaning.

Before I could even sit up, her shadow overtook me again.

I looked up—my heart stopped.

Her other hand was raised toward her face, knuckles curled inward like a loaded hammer. And it was pointed at me.

She was going to do it again.

"MOVE—!"

I lunged forward just in time.

BOOM!

The earth exploded beside me. Her fist hit so hard I felt it in my teeth. I was flung again, this time rolling like a ragdoll across the sand, my entire body protesting every movement. I came to a stop on my back, head spinning.

This wasn't a game anymore. This wasn't flirty, teasing Penelope.

This was something darker. Something deeper.

Before I could scramble away, her hand moved with terrifying speed—blotting out the sky like a closing stormcloud.

"NO—!"

Her fingers slammed down around my left arm and pinned me to the ground like a nail. I gasped, air punched from my lungs. I couldn't move. Her palm pressed against my shoulder, her thumb digging just enough to hurt—but not enough to kill.

Yet.

I was stuck.

Pinned beneath a goddess drunk on rage and power.

"D-Dammit, Penelope!" I shouted, twisting under her grip. "Snap out of it! I didn't mean to hurt you, I was trying to stop you!"

Her face hovered over me now, close, twisted with fury. Her glowing red eyes burned into mine, wild and hungry and hurt all at once. Her hair spilled down around us like a curtain, cutting me off from the rest of the world. It was just her and me now, trapped in this violent, one-sided confrontation.

My heart pounded in my ears. Sweat and blood mingled in my eyes. My fingers clenched Draughtbane even though my arm screamed in protest.

I didn't want to use it.

But if she didn't stop...

I might have to.

"Please," I breathed, voice hoarse. "Don't make me fight you." 

"Silence, insect."

Her voice hit me like a wave of thunder — low, guttural, and twisted with something I barely recognized. Not the voice of my companion, not the Penelope who carried me through rocky trails, who smiled and promised she'd never hurt me again.

This was something else. A creature forged from fury, instinct, and the madness of the Wanting.

Her fingers wrapped tighter around my arm, pushing it down into the sand. The heat of the desert was nothing compared to the pressure, the slow grind of my bones threatening to crack under the force. I grit my teeth, not just from the pain but from the fear that clawed at my chest.

She wasn't holding back anymore.

"Penelope..." I managed, my voice cracking. "You don't want to do this."

Her eyes narrowed. That glowing red pierced through me like daggers, and still I held her gaze. I had to. If I looked away now, I wasn't sure I'd make it back up.

"You need to pay," she snarled. "For your insolence. For running. For making me feel—"

She stopped herself. Her expression twisted, something between confusion and rage.

I felt her grip tighten, and with my free hand, I clutched Draughtbane. The handle pulsed faintly, as if sensing my fear — or maybe my will to fight. I could almost feel the energy still humming within it from before... but I didn't know how to call it back.

Dammit.

I winced, trying to pull away, but she was too strong, her hand a cage I couldn't break.

"Penelope," I said louder, forcing strength into my voice even though my arm screamed in protest. "I know you're still in there. This isn't you. You're not a monster."

She blinked. Just for a second. But it was enough to slow her down.

"You're scared, aren't you?" I pressed. "You said it yourself. You didn't know what the Wanting would make you do — especially around me."

That hesitation cracked something. She hesitated, just for a moment, and I saw it — her lip trembling, her breath catching, something deep within her fighting back against the madness.

But it wasn't over yet.

Her grip didn't loosen, not yet, and I knew this would get worse before it got better. She raised her other hand, fingers twitching toward me, reaching with a kind of strange hunger, but also confusion. She was struggling — and I could feel it.

"You promised you wouldn't hurt me!" I yelled, my voice raw. "Don't break that promise. Not now. Fight it, Penelope. Please."

She let out a sound somewhere between a growl and a sob. Her hand hovered in the air, trembling like a branch in the wind. Her breath hitched, and for a terrifying second I thought she was going to crush me right then and there—

—but instead, she slammed her fist into the sand beside me, sending up a plume of dust and wind. The sheer force of it shook the ground and left my ears ringing.

But... she missed me.

She missed on purpose.

Her shoulders hunched, her chest rising and falling in jagged, uncontrolled breaths. Her hand slowly moved off my pinned arm, and I scrambled backward, cradling it, heart hammering like mad.

She was shaking. All over. Not just from anger, but from something deeper — the war inside her, the fracture between the beast and the woman I knew.

"B-Braden..." she choked out, voice barely more than a whisper.

I stood there, one knee in the sand, gasping for air, staring up at her as the red light in her eyes flickered like a dying flame.

I didn't move. I didn't speak.

I just waited.

Waited... and hoped she'd win.