The castle trembled violently, each quake rattling the ancient stone and sending fine dust cascading from the cracked walls. Alice gritted her teeth as she sprinted up the spiral staircase, her boots hammering against the damp, uneven steps. The air was heavy with the scent of mildew and crumbling stone, every breath a struggle as the storm outside roared with unrelenting fury.

  Her lungs burned with every inhale, her ribs screaming with the effort, but she pressed on. Every muscle in her body felt like it was tearing apart, her wounds dripping warm blood that trailed behind her on the stone steps. But she couldn’t stop. She wouldn’t stop.

  “Annabelle!” Alice shouted, her voice hoarse and strained, echoing upward through the narrow stairwell.

  For a moment, there was nothing but the pounding of the storm and her own labored breaths. Then, faintly, a voice broke through, trembling and desperate.

  “Alice!”

  The sound sent a surge of adrenaline coursing through Alice’s battered frame. Her golden eyes widened, her heart slamming against her ribs as she pushed harder. Each step was agony, her legs trembling under the weight of her exhaustion, but Annabelle’s voice became a lifeline, pulling her forward through the haze of pain.

  The final curve of the staircase came into view, and so did the heavy wooden door at the top. A knight stood in front of it, his armor dented and smeared with blood. His sword gleamed faintly in the dim light, but his stance was shaky, his expression etched with fear.

  Alice didn’t hesitate.

  The knight raised his blade, shouting something drowned out by the storm’s deafening roar. Alice surged forward, her blade meeting his in a sharp clash of steel. Sparks flew as the weapons ground against each other. She twisted her wrist, her movements precise despite the searing pain coursing through her limbs.

  The knight stumbled back, his footing unsteady. Alice seized the moment, slashing upward to disarm him before driving her sword into the gap in his armor.

  The knight let out a strangled gasp, his sword clattering to the ground as his body crumpled with a dull thud. Alice didn’t spare him a second glance. She threw herself against the wooden door, shoving it open with all her remaining strength, and stumbled into the next room.

  The grand ballroom stretched out before her, vast and eerily quiet. The sudden stillness struck her like a blow, a stark contrast to the chaos of the storm outside. The polished black-and-white tiles gleamed faintly under the fractured moonlight spilling through massive windows lining one wall. Rain hammered the glass relentlessly, streaking the panes and casting jagged, distorted patterns across the floor.

  Alice froze for a moment, her boots skidding slightly against the tiles. The air was damp and heavy, carrying the metallic tang of blood and the faint chill of the storm that seeped through the cracks. Somewhere deep in the shadows, she thought she heard the faint scrape of metal against stone—a noise that sent a shiver crawling up her spine.

  Her chest heaved as her golden eyes darted across the room, scanning every shadow and flicker of movement. For one terrifying moment, she couldn’t see her. Then, through the rain-streaked light, she saw her.

  Near the center of the ballroom, Annabelle stood struggling in the grasp of two knights. Her bound hands trembled as she thrashed weakly, her frail frame illuminated by the dim glow of the storm. Her tear-streaked face turned toward Alice, her wide eyes brimming with desperation and hope.

  “Alice!” Annabelle cried, her voice raw and broken. “Please, get out of here!”

  The sight of her sister, so close yet so far, hit Alice like a physical blow. Her heart twisted painfully, her breath catching as tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. Annabelle’s bruised face, her trembling hands, the fear etched into her every movement—it was too much.

  But it was also enough.

  A blaze of fury ignited in Alice’s chest, burning away the exhaustion and pain that had been weighing her down. Her knuckles whitened as her grip on her sword tightened. She gritted her teeth, her golden eyes narrowing with unyielding determination.

  Alice surged forward, her boots striking the tiles with purpose. Each step brought her closer, her focus narrowing until all that existed was her sister and the knights holding her captive. The storm raged around her, the ballroom darkened by flickering shadows, but she didn’t falter.

  Her wounds screamed in protest, blood dripping down her arms and trailing onto the floor, but she ignored it all. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else had ever mattered.

  The distance between them narrowed with every pounding step, Annabelle’s cries growing louder in her ears. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Alice felt a prickling sense of unease—the faint scrape of metal in the shadows still lingered, a reminder that danger was never far.

  But she didn’t care.

  She was almost there.

  The final stretch was within her grasp. She was so close—just a few more steps. Just a little farther, and she could finally—

  The floor exploded.

  The ballroom erupted in a deafening crash as tiles shattered and debris flew in every direction. A massive figure burst upward from the floor, the sheer force of his arrival sending shockwaves through the room. Alice staggered back, her arms instinctively shielding her face as shards of stone rained down around her.

  Her ears rang, the chaos disorienting her for a brief moment. Her boots slipped on the slick tiles as she steadied herself, lowering her arms to see the source of the destruction.

  Roy.

  The hulking figure stood amidst the wreckage, his massive frame illuminated by the flickering moonlight. His muscles rippled beneath his sweat-slicked skin, veins bulging with unrestrained power. His sheer size seemed to dominate the room, the shadows stretching long and menacing around him. His fists clenched, each movement deliberate and purposeful, radiating the confidence of someone who didn’t need to rush.

  Alice’s heart sank, her breath catching in her throat. She froze for a moment, her body unwilling to move as Roy’s burning eyes locked onto her. The malice in his gaze was palpable, cutting through the room like a blade.

  Without warning, Roy lunged.

  He moved with terrifying speed for someone of his size, closing the distance in a blur of muscle and fury. Alice barely had time to raise her sword in defense. His massive fist swung like a battering ram, slamming into her with devastating force.

  The impact was catastrophic.

  Alice flew across the room, her back slamming into the far wall with a sickening crunch. The stone cracked under the impact, fractures spiderwebbing outward as debris crumbled around her. Pain exploded through her body, radiating from her spine to her limbs. For a moment, her vision dimmed, the edges of the room tilting and spinning.

  She crumpled to the floor in a heap, her sword clattering beside her. Her breath came in shallow gasps as she clawed at the tiles, trying to push herself up. Blood trickled from her arms, her wounds screaming in protest as every nerve in her body demanded she stay down. But she couldn’t. She wouldn’t.

  The world around her was a blur of shadows and flickering light. The faint sound of Annabelle’s muffled cries reached her ears, pulling her back from the haze. Alice gritted her teeth, her trembling hands curling into fists as she forced herself onto her hands and knees. Her breath hitched, her chest heaving with effort.

  “Stay down,” came Roy’s deep, rumbling voice, his tone almost amused. He stood where he had struck her, rolling his shoulders as though the effort of his attack hadn’t even registered. “You’re not worth the trouble.”

  Alice’s head snapped up, her golden eyes blazing despite the pain wracking her body. Her grip found her sword, her bloodied fingers tightening around the hilt as she forced herself upright. Her shoulders slumped, her legs trembling beneath her, but she stood.

  Roy’s sneer deepened as he cracked his knuckles, his massive form flexing. “Suit yourself.”

  The sound of glass shattering interrupted the standoff.

  Alice flinched as two more figures descended into the room, shards of the ballroom’s massive windows raining down like jagged crystals. The figures landed with eerie precision, their forms moving like shadows.

  Mask and Leonardo.

  Mask straightened first, his claws scraping against the tiles as he rose to his full height. His glowing eyes narrowed on Alice, his mouth twisting into a wicked grin. “Hehehe… finally,” he hissed, his voice laced with venom. “It’s about time we got some real entertainment.”

  Leonardo landed silently, his movements precise and deliberate. His sharp eyes fixed on Alice, their intensity softened only by a fleeting flicker of hesitation. His hand rested lightly on the hilt of his sword, his demeanor calm but resolute. Unlike the others, there was no cruelty in his gaze—only duty.

  Alice’s chest tightened as the weight of the situation hit her. The three vanguards stood before her now, their combined presence suffocating. Each step they took seemed to draw the air from the room, the storm outside fading into a distant murmur. Their shadows stretched across the tiles, converging on her broken frame.

  “Look at you,” Mask sneered, his claws tapping against the tiles. “The kingdom’s so-called knight, standing there all broken and pathetic. How shameful.” His grin widened, his teeth glinting like fangs. “I wonder… should I shred you to pieces or take my time cutting you limb from limb?”

  Alice’s breath hitched, her fingers tightening around her sword. The taunt cut deep, but she refused to let it show.

  Mask laughed, a low, grating sound that echoed through the ballroom. “Don’t worry,” he cooed mockingly. “I’ll make sure to remember your screams. Every. Single. One.”

  Roy chuckled low in his chest, cracking his neck as he took a step forward. “Enough talking,” he rumbled. “Let’s get this over with.”

  Leonardo raised a hand, stopping the others. His sharp eyes remained locked on Alice, his expression calm but heavy. He stepped forward slowly, his hand tightening on his sword hilt.

  “You don’t have to do this,” Leonardo said softly, his voice low enough that only Alice could hear. For a moment, the storm seemed distant, his words carrying an almost mournful weight.

  But then his tone hardened, his shoulders squaring. “But I guess my warnings to you went unnoticed.”

  Leonardo unsheathed his blade, the steel catching a flash of lightning as the storm surged outside. He held the blade steady, pointing it toward her. “So show me Alice. Show me what you’re made of. Show me that all those years of training weren’t wasted. Fight until your last breath.”

  The vanguards took a unified step forward, their presence casting long, oppressive shadows over Alice. The storm outside howled as lightning illuminated the room, their forms towering and menacing.

  Alice tightened her grip on her sword, her chest heaving as her golden eyes burned with defiance. She was outmatched, her body screaming for rest, but she refused to back down. Not now. Not ever.

  She raised her blade.

  Cold blood dripped from Alice’s face, tracing slow paths down her neck before pooling on the cracked tiles beneath her. Each breath came in uneven gasps, her chest tightening with the weight of exhaustion and pain. Her sword trembled in her bloodied hands, its weight threatening to pull her down entirely. The storm outside raged, lightning casting fleeting shadows across the ballroom, but none of it mattered now.

  She locked eyes with Annabelle. Her sister’s frail body trembled in the knight’s grip, her bound arms weakly fighting against the restraints. Annabelle’s wide, tear-streaked eyes locked onto Alice, desperation written in every line of her face.

  “Run, Alice!” Annabelle screamed, her voice raw and trembling with heartbreak. “Run!”

  The words struck Alice like a physical blow. Her breath hitched, her golden eyes widening with disbelief. Annabelle’s cries echoed through the cavernous ballroom, cutting through the storm like a jagged blade.

  Annabelle’s voice cracked, quieter this time, trembling with sadness. “Please, Alice… just run away…”

  Her arm slipped free from the knight’s grasp for a brief moment. She stretched her fingers toward her sister, but the movement seemed to sap what little strength she had left. Her trembling hand fell short, hovering in the air between them as though even the act of reaching was too much.

  “Leave me!” Annabelle sobbed, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions. “I’m already dead… Can’t you see?”

  Alice’s chest tightened, her heart pounding as though it might burst. Annabelle’s words carried a bitter truth, one that gnawed at her resolve. Her sister’s pale, bruised face, her trembling hands, the shallow rise and fall of her chest—it was all there. Every day spent in this cursed castle had drained her, piece by piece, leaving behind only a fragile shadow of the girl Alice had grown up with.

  Annabelle’s tear-filled eyes burned into Alice, her voice trembling with guilt. “You have to go… Even if you save me, I’ll only slow you down. I’ll just… I’ll just get you killed.”

  Her body sagged in the knight’s grip, her struggles fading as exhaustion overtook her. “It’s too late for me…” she whispered, her voice breaking. “It’s been too late for a long time.”

  Alice’s trembling hands tightened around the hilt of her sword as her knees threatened to buckle. She didn’t want to believe it. Couldn’t. But the truth was in Annabelle’s every word, in her fading strength, in her resignation.

  Annabelle stilled, her voice softening as a faint, fragile smile broke across her lips. It was the kind of smile that came from someone who had already accepted the end.

  “Thank you, Alice,” she whispered, her voice trembling but sincere. “Thank you for remembering me…”

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  Alice’s breath caught, her heart aching at the raw gratitude in her sister’s words. Annabelle’s trembling smile grew as tears continued to fall, her gaze never leaving Alice. “Even after all this… you came for me. You’re the only one who ever would.”

  Her voice cracked, her lips trembling. “I wish we had more time…”

  Annabelle’s voice grew quieter, softer, as though each word took all her remaining strength. “But this is where I belong. There’s no place for me outside these walls, Alice. My time is up, and I don’t want you to waste yours.”

  The storm raged outside, the rain hammering against the windows in relentless waves, but the room felt impossibly still. Annabelle’s voice cracked, her tears flowing freely now. “You still have a life to live. Don’t let me be the reason you lose it.”

  Alice’s grip faltered for a moment, her golden eyes trembling as she searched her sister’s face. A part of her wanted to listen, wanted to turn and flee like Annabelle begged. It would be so easy to let go, to give up. Her body ached for rest, her wounds screaming for reprieve.

  But then she saw it—the fleeting flicker of hope in Annabelle’s tear-filled eyes, the faint light that hadn’t been extinguished despite the horrors she had endured. That flicker was for her. For Alice.

  “No,” Alice whispered, her voice trembling but firm.

  Annabelle’s eyes widened, her lips parting in shock. “Alice… no…”

  Alice straightened, forcing her battered body to obey. Her trembling hands tightened around her sword, and despite the searing pain coursing through her, she raised the blade. A tear slid down her cheek, catching the faint light of the storm as it fell to the floor.

  “Just wait a little while longer, sister,” Alice said softly, her voice hoarse but steady.

  Annabelle’s head shook frantically, tears falling faster. “Alice, please…”

  Alice’s trembling smile brightened, her golden eyes burning with defiance. “We’ll both be free… just like I promised.”

  The knights holding Annabelle hesitated, their gazes shifting to the vanguards. Leonardo raised his hand, silencing them with a single motion. His expression was unreadable, his eyes watching Alice with a mixture of interest and something deeper—regret, perhaps.

  The storm continued to howl, its fury unrelenting, but Alice stood firm. Her body screamed for rest, her legs trembling beneath her, but she didn’t move. Her blade glinted under the fractured moonlight as her chest rose and fell steadily.

  She had made her choice.

  No force on Earth would take her sister away from her.

  The vanguards stood in a loose semi-circle, each of their presences suffocating in its own way. Mask’s claws tapped rhythmically against the tiles, his glowing eyes narrowing with sadistic delight. Roy’s hulking frame cast a shadow that seemed to stretch endlessly across the floor, his massive hands flexing as though eager to crush Alice with one blow. Leonardo remained still, his blade lowered, his gaze fixed solely on her.

  Around them, knights filled the edges of the room, their shields gleaming under the dim light. On the balconies above, archers stood ready, their bows drawn, arrows trained on the lone knight who refused to fall. The faint creak of their taut strings mingled with the uneven rhythm of the storm, a deadly symphony that promised an inevitable end.

  Alice’s breathing came in shallow gasps, each one a struggle as her chest tightened with the weight of exhaustion and pain. Her body screamed for reprieve, her legs trembling under her weight, but she stood firm. Her golden eyes burned with a defiance that refused to be extinguished, even as her bloodied hands trembled against the hilt of her sword.

  Leonardo took a single step forward, his boots silent against the slick tiles. His sharp gaze didn’t waver, but for the briefest of moments, something flickered in his eyes—something unspoken, buried beneath the surface. He raised his blade slightly, his movements calm and deliberate.

  “I hope you’re ready,” he said, his voice steady but heavy. “Because I won’t hold back.”

  Mask’s laugh broke the stillness, sharp and grating. He tilted his head mockingly, his claws scraping against the tiles in a deliberate rhythm. “Oh, please, Leo. Don’t make it sound so noble,” he sneered, his grin stretching impossibly wide. “She’s already broken. You can see it, can’t you, little knight? Those shaking hands, that bloodied face. You’ve already at death’s door.”

  Alice said nothing, her blade steady despite the tremble in her arms. Mask took another step forward, his grin twisting further. “Why don’t you just collapse and save yourself the embarrassment? It’s over.”

  “Enough talking,” Roy rumbled, his voice deep and thunderous. He stepped forward with a heavy thud that cracked the tiles beneath his boots. “She’s made her choice. Let’s get this over with.”

  Leonardo raised his hand, stopping Roy mid-step. His gaze never left Alice, his expression calm but burdened. “This isn’t for you,” he said quietly. “This is her moment.”

  Roy grunted, stepping back reluctantly. Mask clicked his tongue, retreating with a dramatic wave of his claws. “Fine, fine. Let her have her little moment. It won’t last long.”

  Alice’s chest tightened, her golden eyes flicking to Annabelle. Her sister thrashed weakly in the knight’s arms, her muffled cries breaking through the oppressive silence. “Alice!” Annabelle screamed, her voice raw and trembling. “Don’t do this! Please—just run!”

  The words hit Alice like a blade, but instead of shattering her resolve, they ignited it. Her trembling fingers tightened around her sword, her knuckles white as she forced her body to stand taller. She couldn’t run. Not now. Not while Annabelle was still in their grasp.

  “No,” Alice whispered, her voice hoarse but steady.

  Annabelle’s tear-streaked face turned toward her, her wide eyes pleading. “Alice, please…”

  Alice exhaled slowly, her trembling breath evening out. Her golden eyes burned with unyielding determination as she turned back to Leonardo, her voice stronger this time. “I’m not running. Not this time.”

  Leonardo’s sharp gaze flickered, the faintest shadow of regret crossing his features. His hand tightened on the hilt of his sword as he raised it, his movements deliberate and precise. “So be it,” he said quietly. “Show me what you’re fighting for.”

  Alice’s lips curved into a faint smile, her tears mingling with the blood on her face as she raised her blade. “For her,” she said, her voice trembling but resolute.

  The storm surged outside, the wind rattling the windows as lightning illuminated the room in jagged bursts. The knights on the balconies drew their bows tighter, their arrows gleaming under the fractured moonlight. The tension in the room was suffocating, every breath feeling stolen.

  “Fire!” a knight’s voice rang out, breaking the stillness like a hammer.

  The arrows screamed through the air, their sharp whistles cutting through the storm’s roar. The knights charged in unison, their boots thundering against the tiles as they closed in. The vanguards moved with terrifying precision—Roy barreling forward like an unstoppable force, Mask leaping toward her with claws outstretched, and Leonardo advancing with calm, deadly purpose.

  Alice’s golden eyes snapped open, blazing with a fierce determination. She raised her sword high, the bloodied blade glinting under the light as her voice whispered through the chaos:

  “We’ll be free, Annabelle. I promise.”

  And then, everything collided.

  The audience hall was a grand, foreboding space, its silence broken only by the faint creak of the swaying chandelier above. Dust drifted lazily from the trembling ceiling, settling onto the polished marble floor like ash after a fire. The storm outside raged, lightning illuminating the room in brief, jagged flashes. Each burst cast long shadows across the walls, stretching and warping like unseen hands reaching for the throne.

  Beyond the massive double doors, the muffled screams of dying knights pierced the air—sharp, desperate cries that were quickly silenced. Each scream ended with a gurgling gasp, leaving behind a chilling void. Yet Yokubo sat on his throne, unbothered. His sharp, black nails tapped against the armrest in a slow, deliberate rhythm, like the ticking of a clock counting down.

  His gaze drifted to the tall windows lining the hall, where rain streaked in relentless torrents. Lightning lit his pale face for a fleeting moment, highlighting the faint smirk that twisted his lips. The storm, the screams, the carnage beyond the doors—it was all beneath him. It amused him.

  The tapping stopped as silence fell. Yokubo’s smirk widened into a sharp grin.

  The final scream echoed, shrill and pitiful, before fading into nothingness. The double doors groaned, trembling as they slowly creaked open. A sliver of light spilled into the dim hall, creeping across the floor like a blade, stopping just short of Yokubo’s feet. The gap widened, the creaking growing louder, until the doors stood fully ajar.

  A shadow filled the threshold.

  Axel stood in the entrance, a towering figure drenched in blood and rain. Steam rose from his nose in visible puffs, his chest heaving with slow, deliberate breaths. His glowing golden eyes burned like twin embers, piercing through the dim light. Blood dripped steadily from the severed arm clamped between his teeth, pooling at his feet. Over his broad shoulders, a pile of mutilated corpses hung haphazardly, their limbs dangling grotesquely.

  Axel stepped forward, shaking off the bodies one by one. They fell to the ground with sickening thuds, blood smearing the pristine marble as they rolled to a halt. When only the severed arm remained, he pulled it from his mouth and spat it onto the crimson-streaked carpet. The hollow thud reverberated through the silent hall.

  Yokubo’s grin widened. He leaned back in his throne, resting his chin on his hand as his sharp eyes studied Axel with unnerving intensity. “Ah, so you’re the one causing havoc in my halls. The traitorous hero.” His tone was smooth, almost amused. “I trust you enjoyed the welcome party.”

  Axel snickered, wiping his mouth with the back of his bloodied hand. His wounds, though numerous, had already begun to close, the jagged gashes knitting themselves back together. “It was... entertaining,” he said, his voice low and guttural. “But now it’s just you. No more ants left to throw in my way. Not very smart, if you ask me.”

  Yokubo chuckled, his grin stretching wider. “Humans are replaceable,” he said, waving a dismissive hand. “Mere ants, as you put it. Their only purpose is to satisfy beings like you and me—goliaths unbound by their petty concerns.”

  He rose slowly from his throne, his sharp nails tapping idly against the armrest as he stood. “I know why you’re here,” he said, descending the stairs one step at a time. His voice softened, a sinister undertone creeping into his words. “To kill me. Isn’t that right?”

  Axel tilted his head, his lips curling into a wry smile. He lifted his hand, fire sparking to life in his palm. The flames danced wildly, casting jagged shadows across his bloodied face. “Heh. That’s right.”

  The firelight glinted in Yokubo’s sharp eyes as he spread his arms wide, his voice growing more theatrical. “Then may I suggest a proposal?”

  Axel’s grin faltered, his fireball flickering slightly. His golden eyes narrowed, curiosity flickering behind them. Yokubo descended the remaining stairs leisurely, his polished boots clicking against the marble as he came to a stop on even ground with Axel.

  “The world has labeled you a monster, Axel,” Yokubo began, his voice smooth and persuasive. “But one thing you must know... I am a monster too.”

  Axel’s fireball dimmed as Yokubo continued, his tone dipping into something almost fatherly. “I know the hatred that burns inside you. The isolation. The endless thirst for revenge. I know you better than anyone else in this world could.”

  Yokubo’s sharp eyes scanned Axel slowly, lingering for a moment too long. A faint smirk twisted his lips. “Yes,” he said softly. “Even more fascinating up close.”

  Axel’s posture eased, his bloodthirsty gaze replaced by something more guarded. Yokubo seized the moment.

  “We are not so different, you and I,” Yokubo said, his voice rising. “We kill without hesitation. We live without the chains of society or their pitiful morals binding us. We have broken the shackles of our humanity and risen above it. We, Axel, are the same.”

  Axel’s fireball dwindled to an ember. His golden eyes locked onto Yokubo, who smiled wider.

  “We shouldn’t be fighting,” Yokubo said, his arms spreading wide. “We should be allies—brothers in arms. With our combined power, we could shake this kingdom to its very core. Burn it to the ground and rebuild it in our image.”

  His voice dropped, silky and sinister. “I can give you power, Axel. Wealth. Women. Everything you’ve ever desired. All you have to do... is say yes.”

  Yokubo’s words hung in the air like a dangerous promise. Axel’s lips curled into a faint smirk, his golden eyes gleaming with amusement.

  “I like it,” Axel said, his voice low and deliberate. “I like it a lot.”

  Yokubo’s grin widened, his sharp teeth glinting in the faint light. He opened his mouth to speak, but Axel raised a hand, cutting him off.

  “But,” Axel said, his tone shifting, his smirk widening into something far more dangerous, “there’s one thing you can’t offer me.”

  Yokubo’s grin faltered, his sharp eyes narrowing. “Oh? And what would that be?”

  Axel’s grin stretched, his bloodied teeth flashing as the flames in his hand reignited. His voice was low and guttural as he answered.

  “Revenge.”

  Yokubo’s grin faltered for only a moment before it returned, sharp and unnerving. He tilted his head slightly, his sharp eyes narrowing as he studied Axel’s face. “Revenge,” he repeated, his voice slow and deliberate, as though savoring the word. “Of course.”

  Axel’s grin stretched wider, his flames roaring back to life as he raised his hand toward Yokubo. “If that’s all, I think we’re done here.”

  But Yokubo didn’t flinch. Instead, he let out a soft, almost pitying laugh. “I see,” he said, clasping his hands behind his back as he took a slow step forward. “It’s a shame, truly. But I can’t say I’m surprised.”

  Axel’s grin faltered, his golden eyes narrowing. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Yokubo stopped, standing just out of reach of the flames. His sharp eyes glinted with amusement, and his grin stretched unnaturally wide. “You haven’t fully accepted it yet. Your nature. Your truth.”

  Axel’s gaze darkened, his voice lowering. “You’re speaking in riddles. Spit it out.”

  Yokubo chuckled again, the sound almost fatherly, though it was laced with mockery. “You call yourself a monster, but you haven’t embraced it. Not completely. A true monster doesn’t hesitate. A true monster doesn’t second-guess its instincts. A true monster, Axel, wouldn’t have spared that knight.”

  The flames in Axel’s hand flickered, dimming slightly. His expression shifted, his eyes narrowing as Yokubo’s words sank in. “What did you just say?” he growled.

  “Oh, yes,” Yokubo said softly, his grin stretching wider as he stepped closer. “I know all about her. The knight you spared—the one sent to kill you. Even after all she had done, you let her live. Tell me, Axel. Was it pity? Or are you still clinging to the shreds of humanity you claim to have left behind?”

  Axel’s jaw tightened, his flames dwindling further as he took a step back. The tension in the room thickened, the storm outside roaring louder as though mirroring the unease that crept into Axel’s posture.

  “How do you know that?” Axel demanded, his voice sharp and cutting.

  Yokubo tapped the side of his head, his sharp grin never faltering. “The King’s Eye,” he said, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “A most useful ability. It allows me to see more than just your strength, Axel. I see your decisions, your flaws, your hesitations. Every weakness laid bare.”

  Axel stiffened, his golden eyes narrowing as Yokubo’s words dug deeper. The storm rumbled outside, lightning flashing through the windows and illuminating Yokubo’s triumphant expression.

  “You like to think of yourself as unstoppable, don’t you?” Yokubo continued, his tone growing sharper. “A force of vengeance. A reaper with no ties to this world. But deep down, you’re still chained to it. Still bound by the very humanity you claim to despise.”

  “Shut up…” Axel snarled, his voice low and guttural. The flames in his hand reignited, brighter and hotter than before. “You don’t know a damn thing about me.”

  “Oh, but I do, Axel,” Yokubo said, his voice rising with glee. He gestured to the broken bodies still scattered across the hall. “Look at yourself. You think you’ve broken free, but you’re just a pawn to your own emotions. A wild beast, predictable in your chaos. So certain of your purpose, but so very fragile.”

  Axel’s teeth clenched, his flames surging forward as he lunged, the heat warping the air around him. “Enough!” he roared, closing the distance in a blur.

  Yokubo moved with inhuman speed, sidestepping Axel’s attack as though it were nothing. He turned sharply, his sharp nails clicking together as he laughed. “Yes, that’s it. Let the fire consume you. Let me see just how much of a monster you can be.”

  Axel spun to face him, his chest heaving as he glared daggers. “You talk too much,” he growled, the flames in his hand coiling and twisting like serpents. “Let’s see how confident you are when you’re burning.”

  Yokubo’s grin didn’t waver. Instead, it grew wider. “Oh, Axel,” he said softly, his tone dropping to a menacing whisper. “Do you truly think this ends in your favor?”

  He raised his hand, tapping his temple once more. “The King’s Eye shows me everything. Your stats. Your weaknesses. Your limits.” His grin twisted into something monstrous. “This battle was over before it even began.”

  The storm outside howled louder, lightning streaking across the windows as Yokubo’s hand began to glow. The oppressive energy that radiated from him pressed against Axel, heavy and suffocating. For the first time, Axel felt the faintest flicker of doubt.

  “Welcome to my world, Axel,” Yokubo said, his voice dripping with malice. The glow in his hand intensified, bathing the room in an eerie, dreadful aura. “Let me show you what it truly means to face a monster.”

  Axel tensed, his flames surging desperately as he braced himself. The magic erupted, consuming the hall in a brilliant flash as the storm outside screamed in unison.