The raiders fell one by one beneath Pyrope’s path, but the moment he pushed through the last of them—

  The humming stopped.

  Everything stopped.

  Ash drifted in slow spirals around him as a cold stillness crept over the ruins… and Severus finally lifted a hand.

  Just one gesture.

  And the raiders obeyed.

  They surged—not toward Pyrope, but away from him.

  Spreading through the ruins.

  Hunting.

  Searching.

  Seconds later, Pyrope heard it.

  Lira’s gasp.

  Anatolian’s terrified squeal.

  Rowan’s enraged bellow.

  Tidewhisper’s sharp grunt of pain.

  Pyrope turned, heart twisting—

  And saw them dragged forward.

  Rowan pinned by two raiders, blood dripping from his antlers.

  Lira held by another, tears streaking down her face.

  Tidewhisper bound by his wrists, breathing hard but glaring fiercely.

  Anatolian sobbing uncontrollably, clutching at nothing.

  All of them thrown onto the broken street behind Severus.

  Pyrope’s breath broke.

  “STOP!” he screamed, voice cracking. “STOP—! LET THEM GO!”

  Severus didn’t turn.

  He waited until the last of the caravan was forced to their knees.

  Only then did he speak—calm, quiet, as if offering a gentle correction to a child.

  “Now you finally see.”

  Pyrope shook, fists trembling.

  “Why—why are you doing this?” His voice fractured into raw desperation. “Why are you destroying everything? Why are you—PLEASE—just stop—please—”

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  Severus finally faced him.

  His ruined mouth stretched into something like a smile—wrong, thin, unnatural.

  “No one has ever escaped me,” he said softly.

  “And yet… you did.”

  Pyrope’s knees nearly buckled.

  Severus stepped closer.

  “I could not smell you. I could not hear you. I could not see you.”

  His voice dropped, almost a whisper.

  “But I felt you run.”

  He tilted his head, studying Pyrope like a rare creature.

  “You ran far. Farther than any prey I have ever marked.”

  His eye glinted.

  “That alone made you delicious to me.”

  Pyrope shook his head in horror, tears burning.

  Severus extended a hand, almost tender.

  “I want you to be stronger. Do you understand?”

  “The stronger you become… the sweeter your essence will be when I finally consume you.”

  Lira sobbed openly.

  Rowan roared against his restraints. “You MONSTER—LET HIM GO!”

  Tidewhisper strained forward, voice cracking. “Pyrope—don’t listen—!”

  But Pyrope’s heart collapsed inward.

  Every whisper from the Rooster Kingdom.

  Every suspicion.

  Every look of fear.

  Every doubt.

  Bad omen.

  Why only him?

  Marked by something dark.

  He finally understood.

  They were right.

  Pyrope lowered his head.

  “…If killing me saves them…”

  “…then take me.”

  Rowan’s eyes widened in horror.

  Lira screamed.

  Anatolian wailed.

  Tidewhisper’s voice cracked—“Pyrope, NO—!”

  The sound of their despair cut the air like shattering glass.

  Severus’s expression twisted.

  Not pleased.

  Not amused.

  But furious.

  He leaned forward, scarred mouth pulling back in disgust.

  “Why?”

  His voice dropped to a cold growl.

  “Of all moments—of all times—why do you surrender now?”

  His aura cracked outward like a pulse of black heat.

  “You are incomplete.”

  “You are unripe.”

  “You are weaker than you should be.”

  “And you kneel? To protect them?”

  His voice turned venomous.

  “I HATE IT.”

  The raiders crouched low, trembling.

  The wind around them turned sharp, vicious.

  Severus pointed directly at Pyrope’s chest.

  “You still owe me your suffering.”

  Then he turned to the caravan.

  And his voice melted into a chilling murmur.

  “You cannot die, little rabbit.”

  “You will live. Live in the living hell you were born for.”

  Severus drew his blade.

  Long.

  Perfectly straight.

  Reflecting the grey sky like a cold river.

  Before Pyrope could move—

  SHLAAAAAASH—!

  A single arc.

  A single movement.

  A single strike through the air.

  And every caravan member was cut down at once.

  Rowan fell.

  Lira collapsed.

  Tidewhisper crumpled.

  Anatolian’s cry broke halfway.

  Their blood hit the ground like scattered rain.

  Pyrope’s world shattered.

  Time cracked.

  Sound broke.

  His heartbeat stopped—

  Then detonated.

  THUM.

  THUM-THUM.

  THUM-THUM-THUM—!

  The air thickened around him.

  Dust spiraled away from his feet.

  The raiders staggered back in instinctive terror.

  And Pyrope lifted his head.

  His eyes were empty.

  His breath ragged.

  His bones trembling.

  He was still Stage 4.

  Still unstable.

  But different.

  Something inside him ruptured open—

  and something else crawled out.

  A beast rising through the boy.

  The heartbeat boomed, loud enough to shake dust from the ruins.

  THUM.

  THUM.

  THUM.

  Even the raiders—mindless, controlled—took a step back.

  Fear.

  Real fear.

  Severus’s pupils dilated.

  “…So,” he whispered.

  “You did grow.”

  Pyrope didn’t answer.

  He wasn’t there anymore.

  Only the beast remained.

  And it stared at Severus with burning, merciless rage.