The battlefield was quiet now, the storm’s wrath ebbing into a soft drizzle. Alice hung limply in Axel’s grasp, his hand clenched tightly around the metal collar that had been her shackle for years. Blood and rain mingled, dripping from her battered form into the mud below.

  Her breaths were shallow, her body limp. Her spirit—once unyielding—had surrendered completely. She’d done everything she could, fought with every ounce of strength she had left, but it hadn’t been enough. The Grim Reaper, the one who claimed lives, had come for hers. And in her broken state, she had accepted it.

  The cold steel of her own sword glinted in Axel’s free hand, raised high above her. Her eyes fluttered closed, and a tear escaped down her cheek, hidden among the rain.

  At least it will be over soon.

  The blade came down.

  CLANG!

  A sharp sound shattered the air. The weight around her neck vanished, and she fell, crumpling into the mud. She gasped for air, her hand instinctively reaching for her neck, her fingers trembling as they met bare skin. Her eyes widened.

  The collar—the cruel symbol of her enslavement—was gone.

  Her gaze darted to the ground where the shattered remnants of the metal lay scattered. For a long moment, she could only stare, her mind struggling to comprehend what had happened. Slowly, her eyes trailed upward to Axel.

  He stood over her, her sword planted in the ground beside her. Rain dripped from his hair, tracing lines down his bloodied face. His expression was unreadable, his golden eyes piercing as they locked onto hers.

  "I hate people like you," he muttered, his voice low and cutting. He let the final fragment of the collar fall from his fingers, the piece landing with a soft splash in the mud. "So powerless. So ready to die. It makes me sick."

  Alice couldn’t speak. Her heart thundered in her chest as her mind raced. This man—this monster—had been moments away from taking her life. Yet here he was, breaking the chains that had bound her for years.

  Axel turned without another word, his cloak swaying as he began to walk away. Each step was deliberate, his towering form disappearing into the misty drizzle.

  "Pick up that sword," he called, his voice cold but commanding. "If you have something to fight for, prove it. If not… stay in the dirt, that’s where filth belongs anyways..."

  Alice’s breath hitched as his words sank in. Her hand pressed against her neck again, her fingers brushing the bare skin where the collar had been. The weight—the constant, suffocating weight—was gone. She was free.

  Her vision blurred with tears as the reality of what had just happened began to settle in. She clutched her chest, her body trembling uncontrollably as a sob escaped her lips. This wasn’t just survival. This wasn’t mercy. Axel had given her a second chance. He had freed her, from her torment, her enslavement, her years of unimaginable pain.

  For years, she had fought to stay strong, putting on a brave face, enduring every humiliation and cruelty. She had forced herself to smile for her sister, to believe that her suffering would one day end. And now, for the first time, it had.

  Axel’s voice echoed in her mind. If you have something to fight for, prove it.

  Tears streamed down her face as she clutched her arms, her sobs intensifying. This wasn’t the Grim Reaper who took lives. To her, Axel was an angel—a savior who had delivered her from her torment.

  "Why…?" she whispered through her sobs. "Why couldn’t I have met you sooner…?"

  Her voice cracked with raw emotion, the words carrying the weight of years of suffering. If she had met him earlier, maybe she wouldn’t have had to endure the endless darkness. Maybe she wouldn’t have had to fight so hard, to survive so alone. Maybe things would have been different.

  Axel paused mid-step, his shoulders stiffening. Slowly, he turned his head, the rain sliding down his emotionless face. Yet, in the faint glow of the moonlight, something betrayed him.

  A droplet slid down his shadowed face, indistinguishable from the drizzle, carving a path through the blood and grime. Whether it was rain or something more, it fell silently into the mud below, leaving no trace of its origin.

  Axel said nothing. He lowered his head and continued walking, his figure fading into the storm’s mist.

  Alice remained in the dirt, her tears mixing with the rain as she cried for everything she had lost, for everything she had endured. But in that moment, as the faint ember of hope ignited in her heart, she realized she wasn’t crying alone.

  Axel’s fist slammed into the stone wall with a force that made it tremble. Cracks spread outward like veins, dust and tiny shards of rock crumbling to the ground. Blood dripped from his knuckles, but the pain was meaningless—an insignificant whisper compared to the roar of anger inside him.

  Why?

  The question burned, louder and louder, consuming his thoughts. His breathing was uneven, his chest heaving with the effort to contain the storm within him. He clenched his fists so tightly his nails bit into his palms, the sting sharp and grounding. He wanted to scream, to tear something apart, to understand.

  Why did I spare her?

  It made no sense. He gained nothing by letting her live. He could have killed her and taken her power—his curse demanded it, his instincts screamed for it. And yet, when the moment came, when her life was in his hands, he stopped.

  Axel growled low in his throat, frustration boiling over as he slammed his fist into the wall again. The sound echoed through the empty ruins, reverberating into the night. The drizzle soaked him, but he didn’t care. He could still see her face in his mind, the way her tears had fallen, the way her voice had cracked.

  "Can you spare my sister…?"

  The words repeated in his mind like a haunting refrain. He shut his eyes, trying to block it out, but it only made it worse. That plea, that desperate request—it had struck something deep within him. Something he thought was long gone.

  No. He shook his head violently, trying to dispel the memory that clawed its way to the surface. But it came anyway, unrelenting, dragging him back to a time he had tried to bury.

  "King please!!! Don’t take them away from me!! They’re all I have!!"

  His own voice—raw, desperate, broken—rang in his ears. He was there again, chained to the cold stone of the royal square, helpless as the guillotine fell. His brothers screamed, their voices sharp and fleeting as the blade took them one by one. Blood pooled beneath them, soaking the ground, the scent heavy and metallic. Axel pulled at his chains, screamed until his throat bled, but nothing changed. The King stood above him, smiling, as Blake looked on with hollow indifference.

  Axel’s eyes shot open, his body trembling as the memory faded. He pressed his palm to the wall, leaning heavily against it. Rain ran down his face, mingling with the sweat and blood as his breathing slowed. His mind was a mess, a battlefield of conflicting emotions.

  What is wrong with me?

  The plea from Alice, so similar to his own, had pierced through the darkness within him. For a fleeting moment, he saw himself in her—a soul desperate to protect the only thing that mattered. The memory of her tears, her resolve, her broken voice, had reached a part of him he thought had been destroyed long ago.

  But it wasn’t gone. That part of him still lingered, fragile and buried deep beneath the monster he had become.

  Axel growled, his head lowering as he gritted his teeth. He didn’t want to admit it, didn’t want to acknowledge the faint glimmer of humanity that had surfaced in that moment. It made him feel weak, exposed, vulnerable—and he hated it.

  He tilted his head back, letting the drizzle wash over him. His fists unclenched, though his body remained tense, his jaw set in defiance of his own emotions. The void in his chest ached, heavier now, as if sparing her had carved out another piece of him.

  She reminded him of who he once was, and that terrified him.

  Axel stayed like that, motionless in the rain, as the storm inside him raged on. He wasn’t the Grim Reaper in that moment. He wasn’t the destroyer of lives. He was just a man—a broken, hollow man—grappling with the realization that he wasn’t as far gone as he thought.

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  Crack!

  The sharp sound echoed through the room, and Yokubo’s hand froze mid-air. His expression shifted, a flicker of curiosity crossing his face as he slowly turned his palm upward, examining it as though searching for the source of the disturbance.

  “What’s wrong, sire?” asked Frank, his tone cautious, breaking the uneasy silence that had settled in the chamber.

  Yokubo remained quiet for a moment, his golden eyes narrowing slightly before shifting toward Frank with an unsettling calm.

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  “Alice’s slave curse has broken,” he finally said, his voice low and deliberate. “Which means she has either died… or someone has shattered the collar.”

  The room fell still, the weight of his words sinking in. Yokubo tapped a finger thoughtfully against his chin, his expression unreadable—save for the faint gleam of intrigue in his eyes. Slowly, a pleased smile began to spread across his lips, as though he’d been waiting for this very moment.

  “Tell all the knights they’ll be on patrol tonight. No one is to rest until dawn,” Yokubo commanded, his tone sharp and commanding. “And alert my three vanguards. Have them secure Alice’s sister and take her to a safe location. I’m not convinced Alice is dead.”

  Frank hesitated for a beat, confusion flickering across his face. “And what makes you think that, sire?”

  Yokubo chuckled, a deep, unsettling sound that seemed to resonate in the air between them. He turned his gaze toward Frank, his smile growing wider, more sinister.

  “I can see the stats, HP, and location of all my slaves at any time, Frank,” he said, his words measured but brimming with confidence. “When a slave dies, the connection fades gradually. This… this was abrupt. It wasn’t death—it was severance.”

  Frank’s shoulders stiffened, realization dawning on him. He bowed his head respectfully. “Understood, sire. I’ll alert the vanguard and the commanders immediately.”

  Without another word, Frank turned and exited the room, his footsteps echoing in the quiet corridor beyond.

  Yokubo remained by the grand windows, his hands clasped loosely behind his back. His gaze was fixed on the horizon, where dark storm clouds gathered ominously. A single droplet of rain struck the glass with a faint tap, sliding down the pane as the storm began to unleash its fury.

  Rather than concern or anger, Yokubo’s face was alight with something far more disturbing—delight. His smile twisted into something grotesque as he stared into the encroaching tempest.

  “So, the little wolf still has some fight left in her… And she’s not alone…” he murmured to himself, his voice dripping with anticipation. “How utterly fascinating…”

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  Thunder cracks like the roar of a vengeful god, illuminating the night sky in brief, brilliant flashes. The storm rages with unrelenting fury, the rain coming down in heavy sheets, soaking the muddy road beneath them. Every hoofbeat of the galloping horse splashes through the slick terrain, the sound swallowed by the deafening downpour.

  “How much farther?!” Axel yells over the storm, his voice cutting through the chaos.

  Alice, seated behind him, fumbles with a roll of bandages, her bloodied hands working with determination despite the jolting ride. She tightens the wraps around her wounds, wincing slightly but keeping her focus.

  “Not far now!” she shouts back, raising her voice to be heard over the pounding rain. “We should see it any moment!”

  Axel grits his teeth, his hands gripping the reins tightly as he urges the horse onward. “Good. I don’t know how much longer I can take riding this stupid beast!”

  Alice lets out a short breath, half a laugh, despite the tension coursing through her veins. “When the Harbinger of Death climbs onto your back, what do you expect? Don’t blame the horse for being afraid of you.”

  Axel clicks his tongue, shooting a glance down at the trembling animal beneath them, its fear evident in every strained movement. “Tch. Weak.”

  The rain lashes against their faces as the two former enemies share a single mount, united for this brief, fragile truce. Their goals align for now: bring down Yokubo. Alice had provided Axel with the castle’s layout and information on its defenses. In return, Axel had offered her one last chance—rescue her sister and disappear into the Beast Clan, far beyond the reach of human hands.

  It was a desperate, dangerous plan. Axel would launch a suicidal charge straight through the castle gates, drawing every guard and soldier to him, while Alice would sneak into the fortress through a hidden path, find her sister, and escape. She felt a pang of guilt at the thought of leaving Axel to face Yokubo alone, but he had insisted.

  “You have someone to live for,” he had said, his voice cold but resolute. “Don’t throw that away.”

  The castle looms on the horizon, its dark spires piercing the sky like the claws of some great beast. The closer they get, the more monstrous it appears—a colossal structure that dwarfs even the largest fortresses Axel has read about. Its walls seem to rise endlessly, shrouded in mist and shadows. The storm only adds to its ominous presence, lightning flashing across its jagged silhouette.

  Axel’s eyes narrow as he spots their target. He snaps the reins, urging the horse faster. “Are you done with those bandages yet?”

  “Finished!” Alice shouts, securing the last knot with a decisive tug.

  No plan, no intricate strategy—just pure chaos. Axel will storm the front, cutting a bloody path to the audience room, while Alice slips in through the rear to find her sister. Simple. Brutal. Effective.

  “Thank you,” Alice says suddenly, her voice softer now, almost swallowed by the rain.

  Axel blinks, startled. “What are you thanking me for?” he asks, glancing over his shoulder, his expression unreadable.

  Alice’s ears twitch slightly, and a faint smile graces her lips despite the storm and the weight of what lies ahead. “For everything. For sparing me. For this chance to see my sister again. For keeping me company, protecting me, and…” She pauses, her voice faltering for a moment. “For showing me kindness when I didn’t deserve it.”

  Axel scoffs, turning his gaze forward. “Don’t thank me,” he says flatly. “I’m not doing this out of kindness. Letting you live just benefits me more than killing you.”

  Alice’s smile doesn’t waver. She’s seen enough of Axel to know that his words rarely match his actions.

  The castle looms closer, its massive gates visible even through the storm. It’s more than a fortress—it’s a monstrosity, a dark, sprawling testament to Yokubo’s power and ambition. The structure seems to pulse with an aura of dread, its ominous form reflected in the muddy waters pooling around it.

  Alice grips the saddle tightly, her heart pounding as the castle fills her vision. Just a little longer. Just a little more, and she’ll finally reach her sister.

  Lightning splits the sky once more, illuminating the determined faces of the two riders as they charge toward their fateful battle.

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  Lightning illuminated the bar windows, the stark light casting jagged shadows across the stone dungeon walls. Each flash was followed by the rumble of thunder, distant yet menacing, shaking loose bits of dirt from the ceiling. Water trickled through the cracks, forming small puddles on the cold, uneven floor. The damp air was heavy with the scent of mildew, and the creeping cold from outside seeped into every corner, making the prisoners shiver uncontrollably.

  The knights stationed near the dungeon entrance flinched with every crack of thunder, their nerves on edge from the storm raging outside. Even the prisoners, hardened as they were by misery and time, stirred uneasily in their cells. Some huddled under thin, threadbare blankets, others whispered prayers or muttered curses into the darkness.

  Only one person remained unmoved by the storm's chaos: Annabelle. She sat on the edge of her small cot, staring at a crude carving etched into the stone wall beside her. The faint lines depicted a small flower, its shape rough and simple, yet full of care. Her fragile frame trembled in the cold, her breath forming faint white clouds in the damp air, but she seemed unaware of her discomfort.

  The small pile of fruits and vegetables Alice had brought her lay untouched on the floor. Their colors, once vibrant, were muted in the dim light. The potion Alice had handed her rested in her trembling hands, the glass cold against her skin. Her fingers absently traced the shape of the bottle as if seeking comfort, though her gaze never left the carving.

  “...Alice...”

  Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper, carried away by the wind that seeped through the cracks in the walls. It was a name filled with longing, with an ache too deep to put into words.

  The sound of the cell door creaking open shattered the fragile quiet. The metal groaned painfully, echoing through the dungeon like a thunderclap. Annabelle turned slowly, her hollow eyes widening in fear and disbelief as her heart plummeted.

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  Thunder cracked like a drumbeat of impending chaos as the castle loomed closer, its jagged silhouette cutting through the relentless downpour. Axel whipped the horse, pushing it to its limits as the muddy road blurred beneath its hooves. Rain lashed at their faces, the wind howling like a banshee as the storm seemed to mirror the fury about to unfold.

  Axel turned his head slightly, his grin sharp and wild, eyes gleaming like molten gold in the dim light. "When I give the signal, take control of the horse!"

  Alice, clutching the reins tightly behind him, nodded with grim determination. Her heart pounded against her chest, her soaked hair clinging to her face as she braced herself for what was to come.

  Ahead, the castle gates loomed larger, flanked by knights scrambling into position. The shouts of alarm cut through the storm, and the glint of drawn bows flashed against the lightning.

  “Wait, look over there! Intruders!” one knight bellowed, raising his bow.

  Arrows hissed through the sheets of rain, their sharp points cutting the air like silent death. The horse reared slightly, weaving through the onslaught with instinctive precision, its hooves pounding relentlessly against the wet earth.

  "You ready?" Axel’s voice was steady, his calmness a terrifying contrast to the chaos around them.

  Alice nodded fiercely, her grip tightening as she prepared for his signal.

  With a roar of laughter, Axel pushed himself onto his feet atop the galloping horse. The storm seemed to explode around him as lightning illuminated his figure.

  "Now! Take the horse!" Axel bellowed, leaping off the horse before launching himself into the air with inhuman speed and power.

  Alice lunged forward, grabbing the reins as Axel disappeared into the stormy haze. The horse didn’t falter, charging toward the side path leading to the castle’s rear.

  "Thank you, Axel! Thank you!!" she shouted over the wind, her voice filled with both resolve and desperation.

  Axel’s manic laughter echoed through the storm as he hurtled toward the knights. The rain seemed to part before his descent, the earth trembling as he landed in a shockwave that sent debris flying.

  "Haaaahhhh! It’s the Reaper!!” a knight screamed, the terror in his voice cutting through the deluge.

  Axel’s grin widened as he drove his fist into the nearest knight, sending him flying into the stone wall with a sickening crunch. He ripped through the ranks like a hurricane, his movements a blur of brutal efficiency, his laughter growing darker with each kill. Blood mixed with rain, staining the castle grounds as chaos erupted within the gates.

  “Come here, Yokubo!” Axel roared, his voice rising above the storm as he tore through another knight. "Let’s see which one of us is the bigger monster! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!"

  The camera pans to the castle’s towering silhouette, illuminated briefly by a flash of lightning as screams echo into the night. The screen fades to black, leaving only the sound of the storm and Axel’s chilling laughter.