Thomas ran as he held Laverna's throat and slammed her on the study wall. Memories of his mouth and fingers on her made Laverna's stomach drop and her skin crawl. The way he had watched as others did the same ignited a deep hatred in her chest. Her skin burned hotter as a wicked grin spread across her lips.
"What the fuck are you grinning at, you bitch?!" he spat, wrapping his fingers around her throat and channeling his magic. A crushing force constricted her airway as if she were drowning in boiling water.
A scream tore from her lips as darkness filled the room, his eyes glowing a deep red. He slammed her harder against the wall, pressing her deeply into the wood. His other hand twisted into claws, dragging across her stomach and leaving deep gashes. The scent of blood filled the air, thick and metallic.
"KILL HER, THOMAS!"
Magdalene clutched her boys close, their lifeless bodies, or what was left of them, cradled in her arms as she mourned. Her sobs were quiet, strangled by shock.
Thomas turned to Laverna, a wicked smile curling his lips before he raised his free hand, chanting an incantation in a guttural, ancient tongue. As the final syllables left his lips, flames erupted, encasing Laverna in burning magic.
Her nerve endings ignited all at once, her skin feeling as though it might peel away. Yet, despite the agony, she kept that damned grin on her face, her nails digging into her palms as she endured.
"Thomas... I'm... going... to kill you," she spat through gritted teeth, then swiftly snapped the black binding around his wrist.
The moment it latched, he let out a high-pitched scream, his hand flying to his arm. "What the fuck did you do?"
Gasping for air, Laverna pushed herself off the ground, watching as Thomas attempted to summon his magic, only for nothing to happen. His face twisted in horror, realization dawning like a death sentence.
"Oh, Thomas." She grinned, spitting blood onto the floor, her burned flesh regenerating before their eyes. Instead of the exhilaration they had felt for years torturing her, fear gripped them now. What had she become? She turned to the couple. "You gave me one minute before releasing the hounds. I'll give you five... You might want to run.""
Thomas knew the black binding was an anti-magic bracelet. He couldn't do anything about it, so he grabbed his wife and ran. He scrambled to his feet, tripping over his son's corpse before yanking Magdalene from the room, forcing her to drop what remained of the brothers.
Laverna turned her gaze to the bloodied Abigail, who lay barely conscious, her head throbbing from where it had slammed into the ground earlier. A portion of her skull had fractured, leaving her in a half-dead state, unable to move but still painfully aware. Within her mind, fear gripped her. She did not want to die.
"No one loved you," Laverna murmured before stepping toward the roaring fire. She retrieved a red-hot poker and approached the disoriented woman, who feebly tried to bat her away. Laverna easily pinned Abigail's arms down, pressing close to her face.
"I wonder if you heal like I do?" Laverna whispered, her grin widening as she saw the terror flicker in Abigail's eyes. That same wicked smile Abigail had worn while tormenting her now curled across Laverna's lips.
The roles had reversed, and Abigail knew it. Laverna pressed the hot iron directly over Abigail's heart, savoring the way her victim gasped in agony. "You're afraid, aren't you?" she murmured, twisting the poker slightly.
"You don't want to die." Abigail's lips trembled, but no words came. Laverna leaned in closer, her breath warm against the girl's ear. "Let me help you, then," she whispered, before slowly shoving the hot iron deep into her chest, granting her the sweet release of death.
A painful scream ripped from the girl's throat as she struggled under Laverna's monstrous strength, but her resistance was futile. Laverna twisted the poker, forcing it deeper as Abigail's body spasmed, her breath coming in ragged, desperate gasps. Then silence. Death had welcomed her.
Laverna released the weapon, the poker sticking upright, lodged deep in Abigail's heart. She stepped over the body as she stretched and cracked her back and neck. She skipped forward, her voice lilting as she whispered, "I'm coming for you."
Meanwhile, Shin glanced at the carnage. The children of the Lichtensteins lay dead by the fox-kin's hands. The couple had escaped through the stairwell leading into the woods, but the fox-kin was already on their trail, hunting them like a rabid predator on a bloodthirsty rampage.
He needed to end this quickly.
A grin tugged at his lips as he leaped out the window, twisting midair in a backflip before landing smoothly in the courtyard.
Guard Captain Valerius followed close behind as other guards closed in on the room. The scene they found was enough to shake them. The Lichtenstein children were murdered in a manner far more gruesome than anything they had witnessed on their hunts.
The sheer brutality of their deaths sent a chilling wave of dread through those who bore witness. The sight broke their morale.
Some threw down their weapons and attempted to flee, while others, clinging to their loyalty to the Empire, demanded they stand and fight. Chaos erupted as the guards turned on one another, torn between survival and duty. The air filled with shouts and the clash of steel against steel.
Shin stood amidst it all, gripping two swords he had claimed from fallen foes. His gaze swept the battlefield before he spoke.
"Your choices led you here, as have mine. My offer still stands. This will be your last chance."
He twirled his blades before crossing them into a defensive stance.
"You clearly don't know your place, maggot!" Valerius sneered. "You're going to die here, and then I'll feed your corpse to my new Woldrats while they have their way with your friend!"
He lunged, wielding his axes with the mastery of a seasoned executioner. Each swing was precise and ferocious, his movements a blend of brute force and deadly skill.
Shin met his assault, parrying and dodging with precision, but Valerius pressed him hard, his strikes heavy enough to make Shin's arms throb from the impact. Other guards joined the fray, surrounding him.
He moved with practiced ease, a deadly dance of steel and blood. Every step, every strike was calculated, his mind recalling the battles of his past.
It reminded him of his escape from his blood-soaked homeland. The cries of the fallen echoed in his mind.
He exhaled slowly, blocking another strike. His swords were taking a beating, visible cracks were slowly showing as he continued to parry. The moment came when the axe's buzzsaw-like attack shattered Shin's stolen blades. He dodged, but not fast enough, as Valerius's follow-up strike carved a shallow wound across his chest. Blood dripped from the cut as he caught his breath, scanning the battlefield.
Calm, despite the odds. "Very well," he said, rolling his shoulders as the tension in his muscles eased. "You leave me no choice."
He inhaled deeply, gaze steady. He felt the familiar pull of his power, the connection to the enchanted crystal orb at his side.
The rain started to fall, the courtyard was now wet and different smells of blood, fire, and rain wafted around. Shin picks up his orb from his pocket and shows it to them. Closing his eyes for a brief moment, he whispered a prayer to the moon, the words flowing instinctively from his lips:
"Moon Goddess, watcher of the night, Grant me strength, bestow your might. Let vengeance be swift, let justice be pure, In your sacred glow, I shall endure."
As if answering his call, the broken remnants of his weapon shimmered with crimson light, energy surging through the orb. Yoshimatsu reformed in his grip.
He opened his eyes and surveyed them all, stepping his right foot back into a firm draw stance. The katana's high-frequency hum filled the air, a deep resonance vibrating through the battlefield. Red electricity crackled along its edge, casting jagged flashes of light against his hardened expression. The power coursing through the blade was undeniable, this was a reckoning.
The guards hesitated, some stepping back. One of them, wide-eyed and trembling, muttered, "The Azakashi Prince of the East... he's here. The rumors were true! We're all going to die!"
Then, as he revealed his true form, his hair lengthened, flowing like liquid midnight. Nine fox tails emerged behind him, each one swaying with an eerie grace, adorned with fox masks bearing different expressions, joy, sorrow, rage, and serenity, all staring lifelessly into the souls of those before him.
The tips of his tails looked as if they had been dipped in crimson ink, poised like paintbrushes ready to write the final chapters of their existence. His eyes, one glowing red with the bloodlust of a predator, the other gold like the rising sun, bore into his foes like a raging demon ready to devour them all.
Fox ears, adorned with gold ring piercings like a monk's staff, twitched as he took in every sound of the battlefield. The sound of chimes on the rings sounds the bells of their end.
The air grew heavier, an invisible force pressing down on his enemies, making their breaths shallow and their movements sluggish. In that moment, he was no mere man, he was an ethereal being, a harbinger of death. He fixed them with an unyielding gaze and spoke, his voice carrying the weight of inevitability.
"The decisions you make, and the actions that follow, are a reflection of who you really are."