Chapter 80: Deimos's Recovery

  The air in the hideout was thick with the lingering scent of burnt metal and the acrid smell of blood. The Kurushimi brothers stood in the center of the room, their figures outlined against the dim lights. It had been hours since the battle against Ultimate Dr. Machinist, and they had only just returned to the safety of their sanctuary. Yet, there was an overwhelming silence that clung to the walls, heavier than any weapon they’d faced. The weight of what they had endured pressed down on them, suffocating in its stillness. They had fought tooth and nail, but the cost of victory had left them shattered in ways that extended far beyond mere physical wounds.

  Deimos—once a towering force, a god of destruction—lay broken before them. His once fearsome and untouchable presence was now little more than a faint memory, washed away by the intense and brutal clash he had endured. His body was a patchwork of raw, exposed flesh and mechanical parts. It was hard to fathom the immense pain he must have been enduring, and it wasn’t just physical—it was the aftermath of his own existence, the weight of his past choices and his fall from grace. The god who had once waged war with unrelenting fury was now a broken shell, a living testament to the cost of redemption.

  The brothers stood in an uneasy circle around him, unsure of what to say or do next. The silent tension between them had a sharp edge—after all, Deimos wasn’t a friend. He was an enemy, a god of wrath who had once been their father’s foe. And yet, in the most unexpected turn of events, Deimos had saved their father, Ray, and his allies. He had fought alongside them when no one else would have, and now, he was paying the price for his own redemption. His struggle was not just one of survival—it was a battle against everything he had ever known about himself.

  Krishna, who had always been the most brutal and instinctive of the brothers, was the first to step forward. He knelt beside Deimos, his eyes tracing the gruesome damage. His chest tightened as he reached out, his hand hovering just above Deimos’s battered form. There was something about the sight of the once-indestructible god in such a fragile state that stirred something deep within him. He could almost feel the echoes of his own struggles—of the darkness that had once consumed him and how, perhaps, it was only through the help of others that he had found any form of peace. Perhaps there was something to be said for the strength in offering mercy, in extending a hand to one who had once been a foe.

  Krishna’s voice, when it came, was softer than usual, a raw vulnerability seeping through his words.

  Krishna: "This... this isn't what I imagined when I thought of Deimos. The god of destruction. The force we’d have to face. He's just... he's not that anymore."

  Takashi, ever the skeptic and pragmatist, stood at the doorway, his arms crossed as he observed the scene before him. He had witnessed Deimos’s wrath firsthand, and yet, here he was—broken, helpless. He couldn’t reconcile the image of a god torn apart with the reality of the situation. But there was something more in his eyes—a reluctant respect for the sacrifice Deimos had made. If only for a moment, Takashi wondered if it was time to rethink his view of the man who had once been their enemy. But his caution ran deeper than his respect. Could they truly trust someone who had once been their greatest adversary?

  Takashi: "I still don’t trust him. We’ve fought side by side, sure, but he’s not one of us. What if helping him now comes back to bite us? We’ve fought gods before, and they’ve never turned out well for us."

  Temna, the most level-headed and observant of the brothers, slowly moved to Deimos’s side. His eyes remained calm, but his thoughts were deep. His fingers brushed against the cold, lifeless flesh of Deimos’s body. He could sense the man’s struggle, even now—the battle between his past and his present. Deimos had not just faced physical pain in the battle against Machinist; he was facing something much more profound—the consequences of his own actions, of the countless lives destroyed by his wrath. Temna had seen the signs before—wounds of both flesh and spirit. Deimos wasn’t just hurt; he was tormented by the weight of everything he had done and everything he had failed to do.

  Temna: "He's not the same man who fought us before. He's different now. The battle he fought wasn’t just with Machinist—it was with himself. The destruction, the chaos—it was never just his nature. He’s a broken soul, and if we leave him to die, we’ll be no better than the monsters we’ve fought against."

  Martin, always the strategist, observed the entire situation with a quiet intensity. He didn’t rush to judgment, never acted on emotion alone. His eyes flicked over to his brothers before resting on Deimos. He had been the one to make the hardest decisions in their family, the one who had seen the need for mercy and ruthlessness alike. The decision before them now was as much a test of their character as it was of their power.

  Martin: "It’s easy to think of Deimos as a monster, but he’s not. He saved Ray and his allies when no one else would. That means something. We owe him something. If we walk away now, then we’re not the warriors our father raised us to be. We fight for justice—not just when it's convenient, but when it's hard."

  There was silence. The brothers stood there, each of them digesting the weight of Martin's words. It was a bitter pill, one they were reluctant to swallow. But there was truth in them. Deimos, for all the destruction he had wrought, had fought for a cause bigger than himself. Maybe he wasn’t the monster they had believed him to be. Maybe, just maybe, he was deserving of a chance—of their help.

  Krishna, the first to bend to the reality of the situation, moved to Deimos’s side. His voice was more resolute now, stronger in its conviction. He could no longer deny the truth of Martin's words. The Kurushimi brothers were not a family of vengeance and retribution—they were a family of honor, even if that meant helping those who had once been enemies.

  Krishna: "We’ll help him. We owe him that much. He fought beside our father and saved him—saved all of us. It's time to repay that."

  Deimos’s labored breathing grew more erratic, his eyes fluttering open for just a second before they closed again, his voice barely a rasp. He looked up at the brothers, confusion and disbelief clouding his eyes. There was no longer the pride or arrogance that had once been his hallmark, only the remnants of a man who had fallen from grace.

  Deimos: "Why... why help me?"

  The question hung in the air, heavy and poignant. He had never expected mercy, never imagined that the very beings he had once considered inferior would offer him anything but scorn and hatred. He was no longer a god. He was just a man, broken and bleeding. The weight of his own sins threatened to consume him, but in that moment, as the Kurushimi brothers stood over him, he realized something profound. Perhaps he had already received the greatest gift of all—an opportunity for redemption, even if it came too late. The brothers’ offer of help, their willingness to see beyond his past, was something he had not known he needed, and it filled him with both gratitude and regret.

  The Quiet Before the Storm

  As the days passed, the hideout seemed to quiet, the echoes of battle slowly fading into the background like the last remnants of a storm’s fury. The once chaotic environment, scarred by conflict and littered with remnants of shattered weapons and burned debris, had transformed into a strangely serene sanctuary. Yet beneath this calm, there was an ever-present, heavy sense of anticipation—a silence pregnant with unspoken thoughts and unresolved tensions.

  Every member of the Kurushimi brothers was preoccupied with more than just the routine preparations for future conflicts. Their focus had shifted from the clashing of swords and the roar of gunfire to a more delicate, introspective task: the healing of Deimos, a man they had once regarded as their fiercest enemy. Now, with his battered form slowly mending under their care, they wrestled with complex emotions—remorse, skepticism, hope, and even a tinge of reluctant compassion.

  Deimos, though still deeply scarred by his brutal past, had been under their care for days now. His recovery was painfully slow, each day marked by small yet significant signs of progress. His breathing had grown steadier, and the once visibly trembling muscles in his arms and legs were slowly regaining some of their strength. Yet, more than the physical injuries, it was the internal battle that seemed to rage within him. The brothers could sense an unspoken war waged inside his mind—a constant struggle against the darkness that had defined him for so long.

  Krishna lingered in the dim training room, hidden in the half-light, his fists clenched tightly around the handles of his well-worn training knives. The raw, unbridled energy of the moment churned in his stomach, an uneasy mixture of anticipation and dread. It had been an eternity since he had fought side by side with someone who wasn’t one of his immediate kin. The thought of aligning his fate with that of Deimos—a god of destruction now rendered vulnerable—filled him with a primal fear. He wondered if this fragile fa?ade was nothing more than an elaborate ruse, a mask to lull them into complacency.

  Krishna muttered under his breath, “What if he’s just pretending? What if this is all a calculated act, and the moment we let our guard down, he returns to his old ways?”

  The question haunted him relentlessly. Yet, there was an undeniable flicker in Deimos’s eyes—a moment of vulnerability that Krishna could not ignore. Beneath the scars and hardened exterior lay a tortured soul, one burdened by the weight of unrepentant sins and the deep longing for redemption.

  Outside the main chamber, Takashi paced restlessly. His usual cocky demeanor was replaced by a rare, pensive introspection. The sight of Deimos—once an untouchable force—now reduced to a mere mortal fraught with pain, unsettled him to his core. He had always dismissed sentimentality as a weakness, but watching this once-feared enemy struggle with his humanity made him question everything he’d believed about power and vulnerability.

  “He's not what I thought he was,” Takashi admitted to himself, “but that doesn’t mean I can afford to trust him entirely.” His words carried the weight of a man who had seen too many betrayals in his life—a warning to himself not to be blinded by pity.

  Meanwhile, Temna observed the unfolding scene from a quiet corner. His eyes, calm and discerning, took in every detail—the trembling of Deimos’s limbs, the haunted look that sometimes flickered across his face when he thought no one was watching. Temna’s voice, soft yet resolute, broke the silence.

  “We’re all reflections of our past, each scar telling a story of survival,” he said quietly. “Deimos isn’t just a monster from our history—he’s a man fighting his own demons. If we abandon him now, we risk becoming the very darkness we strive to overcome.”

  In the war room, Martin studied the map spread out before him. Every contour on that map told a story of battles fought and futures uncertain. His mind, always a blend of strategy and emotion, turned to the implications of their current dilemma. Deimos’s survival wasn’t just a medical anomaly—it was a symbol, a challenge to everything they thought they knew about redemption and the cost of war.

  “We’ve walked this path before—fighting for justice and survival,” Martin mused. “Now, we’re being asked to question everything. Can we truly accept a man who was once our enemy? Or is this the only way to prove that even gods of destruction can change?”

  Ray, ever the stoic patriarch, had remained silent for most of these hours. But as the flickering light of dawn crept over the horizon, his deep-set eyes softened with a mix of sorrow and determination. Having known Deimos longer than any of the brothers, Ray’s heart bore the scars of countless encounters and past betrayals. Yet, he had also learned that mercy, though dangerous, was sometimes necessary. His voice, calm yet filled with conviction, broke the stillness.

  “Then we face it together. Whatever comes, we fight as one. Deimos, you were once a force of chaos—but you’re now part of our family. Trust is not given freely, but earned through struggle. We will walk this path together, with no more divisions. This ends now.”

  At that moment, as the first rays of morning bathed the hideout in a gentle glow, Deimos stirred. Slowly, painfully, he rose from his bed, his body still weak yet his eyes burning with an inner light that hinted at something new—an unspoken promise of redemption.

  “I owe you all more than I can repay,” he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper, heavy with regret and determination. “But I must ask—do you truly trust me now? Or is this alliance as temporary as the fading memories of my past?”

  The question hung in the air, charged with emotion and uncertainty. For a long time, no one answered. Finally, Krishna stepped forward, his voice steady despite the storm raging within him.

  “We don’t trust you completely,” he admitted, “but we’re willing to give you a chance to prove that you’ve changed. Show us that you can stand with us and not against us.”

  A fragile silence followed, filled with the promise of new beginnings and the lingering dread of old sins. The hideout, once a place of war and despair, now became a crucible for transformation. Each of the Kurushimi brothers understood that the road ahead was fraught with challenges. The quiet before the storm was not merely a lull—it was the prelude to a tempest that would test their unity, their resolve, and the very nature of redemption itself.

  In that moment, with the promise of dawn breaking the long night, they knew that this was not an end but a beginning. A beginning where trust would be hard-won, and every step forward would be a battle against the shadows of their own pasts. Together, they would face the storm, and in doing so, perhaps find the strength to change the course of their destiny—and, in the process, forge a future where hope might once again take root.

  The Key to the Future

  The air was thick with the weight of realization. Deimos’s words hung in the air like a storm cloud, ready to break. The brothers stood still, unable to speak at first, as the magnitude of Deimos’s statement settled over them. The gravity of his words—“I was the key to defeating Akuma 65 years ago. And now... it’s time for it again.”—echoed through the hideout, unsettling and powerful all at once.

  Krishna was the first to break the silence, his voice low but filled with disbelief.

  Krishna: “What do you mean by that? You were the key? How? Akuma... our father Ray and his allies took him down. They defeated him together. What could you have possibly done that they couldn’t?”

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  Deimos looked at Krishna, his expression unreadable. There was no arrogance in his gaze, no smugness. Just the heavy burden of truth. His eyes spoke of countless battles fought, of struggles with his own nature, and a deep knowledge of his place in the cosmic order of things.

  Deimos: “It wasn’t about strength. It was never about strength. Akuma was a force of nature, a being who thrived on chaos and destruction. But what he truly feared—the thing that could stop him—was the power of someone who understood that chaos better than anyone.”

  He paused, letting his words sink in.

  Deimos: “I wasn’t just a weapon, Krishna. I was the counterbalance. Akuma’s power fed off the chaos in people’s hearts. But I... I understood that chaos from the inside. I was his equal, his opposite. I could see the fractures in his mind, the points where his own hatred and rage would consume him.”

  The brothers exchanged uneasy glances. They had always known Deimos as a being of incredible power, a god of destruction, but they had never understood him in this way. They had never seen him as a counterbalance to Akuma, a being so entwined with chaos that he could threaten the god himself.

  Takashi: “So you’re saying you were the one who could have killed Akuma? That you were the one who truly held the key?”

  Deimos nodded slowly, his expression darkening.

  Deimos: “It wasn’t just about physical power. It was about understanding Akuma’s mind, his fears, his desires. We were alike in many ways—both born from suffering, both shaped by the darkness we’ve known. But that made me the only one capable of defeating him. That’s why Ray and his allies couldn’t finish him. They fought with force, but they didn’t understand the war inside Akuma’s heart. I did.”

  Temna, who had been silent until now, stepped forward, his voice laced with both curiosity and caution.

  Temna: “And now? Why is it time again? Akuma’s gone, and yet you say that the key is still needed. What does that mean for us?”

  Deimos’s eyes narrowed as he looked around at the Kurushimi brothers. His gaze was steady, but there was a new depth to it, a realization that they would need to understand what was at stake if they were to move forward.

  Deimos: “Akuma may be gone, but the chaos he left behind is still very much alive. There are forces at play, darker and more insidious than anything you’ve faced before. And just like Akuma, they thrive on that chaos, that instability. There’s a new power rising, a power that could eclipse even Akuma’s reign of terror.”

  Krishna’s fists clenched at his sides, a familiar fire igniting in his chest. His desire for justice, for vengeance, burned brighter than ever.

  Krishna: “So what? You’re telling us we have to stop another monster? Another force of destruction like Akuma?”

  Deimos looked at him, the corner of his mouth twitching in a faint smile, though it was clear that this was not a moment for levity.

  Deimos: “Yes. But it’s not just another monster. This time, it’s different. And you will need me to help you understand what you’re truly up against. It’s time for you to face what’s coming, together.”

  A silence fell over the room as the weight of Deimos’s words settled on everyone. For a moment, the brothers stood in quiet contemplation. The Kurushimi family—once torn apart by violence, betrayal, and bloodshed—was now faced with something far more terrifying than they had ever imagined. The shadow of Akuma had been lifted, but a new darkness loomed, one that would test them all in ways they could not yet fathom.

  Finally, Ray, who had been silent until now, stepped forward. His gaze was steady, unwavering. The father, the leader, the man who had seen more than his fair share of war, now understood the burden that his sons, and Deimos, would have to carry.

  Ray: “Then we’ll face it together. Whatever comes, we fight as one. Deimos, you were once a force of chaos, but now you are part of this family. We will trust you, as we trust each other. No more divisions. This ends now.”

  Deimos nodded, the fire in his eyes returning, though now tempered with something more—something akin to resolve.

  Deimos: “Then let’s get to work. This time, we end it all.”

  As the Kurushimi brothers and Deimos prepared for the battles ahead, they understood that this fight would not just be about physical strength. It would be about confronting the very darkness that had shaped them all—about standing together against a threat far greater than anything they had ever faced before. The key had been unlocked, and the future, for better or worse, would now be determined by their actions.

  The question echoed through the room, a faint cry of desperation, of confusion. Why would anyone help the monster who had done so much destruction? But the brothers, standing around him, understood the answer all too well.

  Martin: “Because we’ve all been monsters at one point. We’re all fighting something. And because you’ve proven that even gods can change.”

  The brothers exchanged a look before they began the long, arduous task of healing Deimos. They were no strangers to pain, but this was different. They weren’t just healing a body—they were healing a soul, a broken god. The road ahead would not be easy. The scars of Deimos’s past, both physical and emotional, would take time to mend. But for the first time in a long time, there was hope—hope for redemption, for recovery, for something greater than destruction.

  As Deimos drifted in and out of consciousness, the brothers knew that the war they fought was far from over. But this was a new beginning—for Deimos, for them, and perhaps even for the world that had once feared them all. The key to the future had been unlocked, and with it came a burden greater than any they had ever borne. The darkness they had fought against for so long was now a shadow they had to face together.

  And the storm was coming.

  They couldn’t afford to hesitate. Every moment, every decision, would weigh heavily on the outcome of the battles to come. They were more than just warriors now. They were the hope for a world on the brink of collapse. The brothers understood that the key was more than just Deimos’s role—it was the willingness to change, to face the past with honesty, and to stand united against a future that threatened to consume them all. The road ahead was uncertain, but one thing was clear: they would face it as one.

  And in that unity, there was strength.

  The Gift of Healing

  The atmosphere in the room was heavy with tension, yet there was a quiet resolve in the air, a shared understanding that the coming battle would demand everything they had. Deimos had already shown his capacity for destruction, but in that moment, something different stirred within him. As he looked at the Kurushimi brothers—Krishna, Temna, Takashi—the weight of his past and their futures intertwined.

  The fight with Dr. Machinist had taken its toll on all of them. The injuries they’d sustained were not just physical; they carried the bruises of battles fought both in the mind and spirit. Deimos could see the weariness in their eyes, the faint tremor in their stances. Even the Kurushimi brothers, who had been hardened by years of combat and bloodshed, were feeling the strain of what lay ahead.

  Deimos, for all his dark power and destructive prowess, had also been shaped by pain and sacrifice. He knew what it was to carry the weight of countless battles. But what they needed now wasn’t just a weapon or a strategist; they needed hope, and they needed healing.

  With a deep breath, Deimos closed his eyes for a brief moment, focusing inward. His aura began to hum, an unnatural power radiating from him, settling over his body like a storm waiting to be unleashed. The Kurushimi brothers could feel it—a pulsing energy that made the air around them crackle with intensity. It was both a burden and a gift. They had seen the destruction Deimos was capable of; now, they would witness the flip side of that same power.

  Deimos stepped forward, his presence now dominating the room in a way that was almost serene. His body glowed faintly with an ethereal light, not unlike a divine being preparing for something significant.

  Deimos: “You’ve all fought valiantly, but you’ve taken damage. No one fights alone in this war. We may be warriors, but we’re also family. And it’s time I give you something that I have long kept to myself.”

  The brothers exchanged confused looks, unsure of what Deimos was about to do.

  With a simple gesture, Deimos raised his hand, palm open toward them. His voice dropped to a whisper, though it carried the weight of authority.

  Deimos: “I bless you all with my enhanced regeneration. What was once mine to endure... is now yours to share. You will heal, as I have healed. Your wounds will close, your strength will return. And this battle, this war, will not be fought on broken bodies.”

  The moment the words left his lips, the power emanating from Deimos flooded the room, swirling around the Kurushimi brothers. It was a sensation unlike anything they had ever felt before. Their wounds, both old and new, began to burn, not in pain but in the warmth of healing. Muscles that had been strained, bones that had been broken, cuts and bruises that had become familiar old friends—all of it began to knit back together. The process was rapid, almost overwhelming in its speed, and it was as though the very fabric of their physical being was being rewoven by an unseen hand.

  Krishna’s eyes widened as he flexed his hands, feeling the fresh strength coursing through his body. The ache in his muscles, the sharpness of the cuts from his recent battles, faded into nothingness. He felt... whole again.

  Krishna: “This is... incredible. I’ve never felt anything like this before.”

  Temna, usually more reserved, allowed himself a rare smile as he stretched his arms, feeling the tension slip away. His limbs, once stiff with exhaustion, now moved with a newfound fluidity. His body, always a well-oiled machine in combat, was back to peak form.

  Temna: “You’ve... given us the gift of time. And life, it seems.”

  Takashi stood tall, his usual cocky grin returning as he tested his legs. The familiar burn of overuse, the fatigue that had weighed him down, was now gone. He could feel the power surging through him, and it was like a rebirth. It was the power to fight on, to push through the limits that had once seemed insurmountable.

  Takashi: “This... this is more than healing. It’s like you’ve given us a second chance.”

  Deimos watched them silently, his eyes filled with an unreadable emotion. The gift he had just given them wasn’t just the restoration of their bodies—it was a gift of unity, of strength in numbers. They would need each other in the coming battle more than ever, and now they were all ready.

  Deimos: “This is my gift to you, brothers. But remember—this power is not infinite. It is a blessing, not a crutch. You will be tested in ways you can’t even begin to understand. But know this—together, we will stand. And together, we will bring an end to the chaos that threatens this world.”

  Krishna’s eyes locked onto Deimos’s, and for a moment, the weight of their shared history, of all the battles they had fought and all the losses they had endured, seemed to come crashing down. But in that moment, a fire ignited deep within him. He was no longer just the vengeful warrior; he was part of something greater, something that transcended the bloodshed and the hate. They were a family, and that meant they would fight for each other.

  Krishna: “We’re ready. Let’s end this. Together.”

  Deimos nodded, his expression softening just a fraction. There was a long road ahead, filled with unimaginable challenges, but for the first time in what felt like an eternity, there was a sense of purpose—a sense of unity.

  The battle wasn’t over. In fact, it had only just begun. But now, they would face it with the strength of Deimos’s gift, and the unwavering resolve of a family bound together by blood, sacrifice, and the shared goal of ending the darkness that threatened to consume everything.

  The storm was coming, and they would be ready.

  The Beast Unleashed

  It was a calm evening at the hideout, the brothers gathered around the table, engaged in casual conversation, the weight of recent events still heavy on their minds. But there was something different in the air that day. It was a tension they hadn’t expected—like the quiet before a storm, the calm that precedes chaos.

  Krishna sat with his arms crossed, looking thoughtful. Martin was quietly tracing a map, Temna lost in his own thoughts, and Takashi had his usual cocky grin, though it seemed more out of place than ever. Ray, however, had been silent for a while. Too silent. It was unlike him. Usually, he’d be at the center of whatever conversation was happening, throwing in his sarcastic remarks, making everything feel lighter. Today, though, his expression was serious. His gaze was far off in the distance, focusing on something only he could see.

  The room was suddenly filled with a quiet anticipation, as if the air itself had thickened with the gravity of what was about to happen.

  Ray stood up, slowly, deliberately. The others stopped what they were doing, watching him with wary curiosity.

  Ray: "You think you know what power is? What real strength looks like?"

  He didn’t wait for an answer. In a swift motion, he ripped the sleeves of his shirt, revealing his muscular frame. At first, they didn’t understand what they were seeing. But then, the realization hit them all at once.

  His body was an imposing mass of muscle, veins bulging under skin stretched taut over raw power. Each muscle seemed like it had been carved from stone, every inch of him looking like a living, breathing weapon. The sheer size of his physique was terrifying, but it wasn’t just that—there was something primal about it. His muscles weren’t just built from physical training—they had been forged by years of rage, of pain, and the unrelenting poison of the rage toxin that had altered his very physiology.

  Ray’s body looked like something out of a nightmare. A beast, not a man.

  Krishna’s eyes widened. He had known Ray for years, had fought alongside him, but this... this was something new. Something he had never seen before. The years of rage toxin use had transformed him into a creature of pure, unrestrained fury. His body was almost unnatural in its proportions, every muscle like a coiled spring ready to snap.

  Martin blinked, trying to process the sight in front of him. He had heard rumors about Ray’s transformation, but seeing it firsthand was a different experience altogether. This was the kind of power that could shatter anything in its path. It was terrifying.

  Temna was speechless, his eyes scanning Ray’s body, trying to understand how someone could sustain that level of physical transformation. The rage toxin had made Ray into something otherworldly, but Temna’s mind couldn’t shake the fear that settled in his chest. He couldn’t help but wonder—how much of Ray was still human? How much was left of the man he once knew?

  Takashi’s usual bravado faltered for a second. He straightened up, his eyes narrowed as he took in Ray’s terrifying form. For the first time in his life, he felt small, like a child standing in the presence of a true monster. It wasn’t just the strength that unnerved him—it was the air of unbridled aggression that radiated from Ray. It was raw, untamed, and dangerous.

  Ray’s deep, gravelly voice cut through the tension.

  Ray: "This is what happens when you push the limits. This is what happens when you refuse to let go of your rage. It becomes you. It shapes you. And it’s all I’ve ever known."

  His eyes gleamed with something darker now—anger, yes, but something deeper than that. A kind of madness that only someone who had embraced their transformation could understand.

  Ray: "You think you’re ready to face what’s coming? To step into the darkness of this war? You need to understand what it takes to survive in this world. You need to understand true power."

  The brothers stood frozen, unsure of how to react. Krishna’s mind was racing—he had always known Ray as a powerhouse, but this was something else entirely. Ray was no longer just the fierce fighter they had followed. He had become something more, something almost impossible to relate to.

  Ray let the silence hang in the air for a moment before he slowly began to dress himself again, his muscles contracting with each movement. The sheer size of him seemed to suck the air out of the room.

  Ray: "I’ll admit, I’m not proud of what I’ve become. But if we’re going to survive this, we need to understand what it means to wield power—and the consequences of it. We need to be prepared to face the darkness, or it’ll consume us."

  The room was heavy with tension. The brothers had always known Ray was dangerous, but this... this was a new level of threat. The power he radiated was overwhelming, and for the first time, Krishna felt the weight of their situation. They were up against an enemy that was evolving faster than they could keep up, and even they were no longer sure where the line between human and monster lay.

  Krishna swallowed hard, trying to process the sight he had just witnessed. Ray had proven a point—one that none of them would ever forget. The beast that Ray had become wasn’t just a testament to the power of rage—it was a reminder that in this world, anything was possible. Even becoming a monster.

  And as the silence stretched on, Krishna couldn’t help but wonder—what would it take for him to tap into that power? To let go of his humanity and embrace the rage that Ray had? Would he have to lose himself completely, just like Ray had?

  Or was there another way to survive this storm?

  The brothers were left with more questions than answers, but one thing was certain—Ray had just shown them the terrifying price of power. And it was a price they weren’t sure they were willing to pay.

  End of Chapter 80