The forest receded behind them in slow shapes. The air clung to their skin with a faint humid weight, heavy with the scent of sap and moss that refused to fade even as the canopy thinned. Branches twisted upward like the ribs of some vast carcass, tracing patterns in light.
They walked in silence toward the spot where their jet waited beyond the hills. The sound of their boots over the softened soil melted into the constant background of rustling leaves.
Reinhard was the first to break the quiet.
"When we came here, these trees seemed taller," he said, glancing upward. "Now they look smaller."
Elizabeth walked beside him, brushing her hand lightly against a broken branch. "Completely agree with you on that one."
The soft wind between the trunks carried a dry, quick sound—some faint disturbance pulling her gaze ahead. Not far—fourteen meters, maybe less—a small creature rose from the underbrush.
It stood two feet tall, so pale it nearly blended with the mist. White hair covered its body like uneven fur, its eyes set at a slight upward tilt that gave an impression of startled awareness. A rounded face against a stockier, muscular frame. In another setting it might have been called adorable, an accidental blend of fragility and strength.
Elizabeth stopped. Something tender flickered across her face, the kind of expression that drew warmth even from cold hearts—a softness that disarmed. She leaned closer, let her voice lower into cooing gentleness, then tilted her head and placed a brief kiss on the creature's furred cheek.
Kael's voice cut in sharply. "What's the difference between me and that creature?"
Before Elizabeth could answer, a thin wail pierced the silence. The creature shuddered violently, its whole body convulsing as if struck. Tears streaked through the fur, and the sound deepened—raw, panicked, uncontrollable.
Reinhard barked out a laugh. "What a stupid thing, crying after a kiss!"
Kael turned toward him, eyes flat and voice devoid of inflection.
"It might look stupid to you, but it isn't. It's beyond your comprehension. Every creature's reactions, even the absurd ones, come from something shaped by evolution—the filtering of what helps one survive and the removal of what doesn't. Conflict isn't its concern. Survival is. And where conflict helps survival, it stays."
His words came measured, steady. The forest seemed to hold them still.
"In our world, every ruling species learned survival through conflict. That's why peace is an anomaly, and friendship, a luxury. You hope to unite a world where war itself became instinct."
For once Reinhard didn't tune him out. His curiosity, small and uncertain, held him there.
"Being afraid of a kiss helps it survive? How?"
Kael's lips twitched slightly—something that might have been amusement, or tiredness. "Didn't expect you to ask. That's good. Maybe you're finally peeling away those societal habits. Still, the answer's simple. The creature won't survive anyway. Traits like that—ones that hinder endurance—get erased in time. What remains are the convenient instincts that keep some alive."
He paused, then added, "If you really want unity, start with practicality. Unite those compatible. Eliminate the rest. Just like removing criminals. The world already does that for stability."
The words struck Reinhard harder than intended. A pressure settled inside him—quiet but crushing. His expression dimmed; his eyes turned downward. The thrum of confidence faded into stillness. The walk back continued with Elizabeth's occasional attempts at light talk, small words tossed into the emptiness that came back unanswered.
Kael walked a few steps behind them, thought flickering through without expression. At least he didn't ask what that thing actually was. It's still an idiot creature, after all. I'd have had no answer beyond that.
The forest thinned. The sound of turbines whispered over the horizon. Their jet appeared between clearing gaps in the trees—its polished hull a familiar gleam in foreign light. The pilot awaited, already at his station.
They boarded wordlessly. The doors sealed. The air hissed against pressurization. The planet beneath them shrank to green memory.
The island greeted them with silence broken by waves hitting distant rocks. Reinhard stepped first onto the landing field, his boots striking metallic echo against the platform.
"Coming home feels better," he said quietly.
"Same," Elizabeth answered.
A truck stood ready nearby, its back prepared to carry their captured Oryn. Together, they loaded the restrained creature—chains locking around its limbs, each link reflecting the faint morning light. They climbed in, Kael at the wheel, Reinhard beside the cage, Elizabeth watching from the rear seat window.
The road to the government department cut through hills lined with low-growth trees. The jitter of old metal suspension filled the space between them. None spoke much.
By the time the structure of the Human Government 2.b Department appeared at the crest of the slope, the light had shifted—pale afternoon draping everything in a thin gray layer.
They stopped near the entrance.
Excitement flickered again through Reinhard and Elizabeth. A shared vibration of triumph—success not only of mission but of self-recognition. They had done it; they had brought something from the outer world back. Proof of worth to their uncle, proof that they had stepped beyond the line of permission.
Elizabeth helped unfasten the rear latch. Reinhard reached for the cage latch, eager to reveal their prize. The chains clinked once, metal over metal, and the door creaked open.
The Oryn's eyes snapped wide. Rage condensed, instant and focused. The sound it made wasn't a roar—it was something deeper, lower, almost a grinding through the air itself. Then the creature lunged.
Kael moved too, but instead of securing the restraints, his hand broke the locking mechanism. The chains fell apart, sparking where metal scraped.
Reinhard's voice tore through the space. "What—what are you doing!"
Elizabeth turned sharply. "Kael, what—!" Her voice cracked into panic.
The Oryn struck.
Time folded in that instant. Sound vanished—replaced by a stillness too heavy to hold meaning.
Elizabeth froze mid-movement, eyes wide, lips parting with a breath that never formed into speech. Her face lost color, muscles rigid, disbelief contorting what had always been poised. Her pupils dilated, catching the smallest traces of light. The shock rippled down her body like a shiver turned to paralysis.
Reinhard stood rooted. Every hair on his skin rose. The cold ran deeper than fear; it was a failure of the body itself. His limbs locked; even the effort of breath refused to obey. Inside, his thoughts fractured—half denial, half collapse. His mind screamed without sound.
Movement was impossible, and it wouldn't have mattered anyway. The act had already happened—brief, brutal, final in its desecration. The noise that followed was not hers and not the creature's but some mixture that hollowed the air around them.
Kael watched without expression. A faint smile appeared. Later, Reinhard would remember it with a clarity that broke reality apart.
Another figure emerged from the entrance—the steady sound of soles on paved ground. Uncle Malric. His face was composed, eyes unreadable, and when he spoke, each word fell clear and controlled.
"Thank you, Reinhard," he said. "For being the protagonist of my plan."
The voice alone froze Reinhard again. He could not reconcile tone with situation. His breath hitched, uneven.
Malric continued, deliberate and calm. "You can grasp abstract information clearly, even if only inside your subconscious, so I'll explain briefly how the world actually works."
He gestured as if conducting a lesson, not standing inside a murder.
"Our world divides into three domains, three categories of being. The first—the least aura—exists here, on this island. Azytes. That's us, our people, our home.
"The second lies beyond, where I came from. The outer humans and other species of moderate power. The Hawkins continent you just visited belongs to that territory—Vertibes, the ones with medium aura.
"And the third…" His eyes tilted slightly upward, as if the sky concealed it. "The undiscovered place where the dangerous ones live—the Catyns, beings of immense aura.
"No species can survive beyond the level suited to its aura. That's why they cannot invade. Strength becomes its own prison. The balance remains sealed."
Kael's laugh came dry, cutting through the explanation. "I already told them, Uncle. But saying it again won't hurt. He's finally ready to hear truth."
His tone turned almost jubilant. "Hello, Reinhard. I've been waiting to drop the act. I'm tired of pretending friendship."
He stepped closer. "Remember how I told you about the treaty with the Hawkins? The species who love human meat but promised restraint because of an agreement with our governments? You know what keeps that deal alive?" He smiled—thin, cold. "The humans themselves offer other humans. That's the payment."
Reinhard blinked once. The world tilted, as if gravity itself tried to erase what he'd heard.
Kael went on, his words casual as if describing the weather.
"Those other humans are our kind. Noren residents. They can't normally cross aura barriers, which keeps us safe from being… offered. But a few exceptions exist. Two families, in history, mutated to control their aura levels. Adaptable across boundaries."
He pointed first at himself, then Elizabeth lying motionless near the truck.
"One is ours ,HayGram . Only four left alive—you, me(Kael HayGram), Uncle Malric, and your lovely sister." He allowed a pause, almost theatrical. "Though she had other purposes."
He motioned toward the subdued Oryn, whose breathing heaved with monstrous rhythm.
"The second exception—these creatures. Oryns. Perverted by nature. They reproduce across species lines. That's precisely why she was needed."
Kael's smile didn't break as he spoke the next words, slow, deliberate.
"Your sister will bear something now—something without mind, but with lineage strong enough to move through every aura barrier that divides the world. A being capable of walking everywhere, belonging nowhere. Uncle Malric will refine it, of course. Once programmed, it will slaughter every living thing on our island, deliver them to the Vertibe rulers. That's the true trade. A treaty, sealed through blood and function."
Malric stood motionless beside him, the quiet confirmation more chilling than speech.
Kael's gaze lingered on Reinhard's face. "You made the delivery possible. You fulfilled the deal. So—thank you."
He let the words hang in air that no longer felt like air.
"No one can stop what's coming. That offspring will have high aura. This land, weak as it is, won't stand a chance."
Reinhard's mouth trembled. Words tried to form but collapsed into nothing. His entire body convulsed, shaking from the inside—heart trembling against ribs like trapped glass. He couldn't locate breath; he couldn't find language. The world blurred until even color abandoned shape.
For a moment, sound returned—a distant hum, the field's wind stirring the grass. Then it all folded into black. His knees buckled, body tilting forward.
And Reinhard HayGram, once the dreamer of unification and peace, fell into unconsciousness beneath the quiet gaze of those who had already unmade his world.