Veldra and the others halted in unison.No surprise crossed their faces. No tension touched their bodies. They simply looked ahead.
Before them stood beasts, crude and malformed. Fangs jutted at crooked angles, gums torn and blackened. Their eyes were drowned in red and shadow, pupils smeared as if rotting from within. From the sides of their faces, worms and slick organic filth spilled outward, writhing and burrowing back into torn flesh. Four legs supported each body, yet every limb was pitch black, swallowing light instead of reflecting it.
Resues' gaze sharpened.
"Ferals…" he murmured, disbelief creeping into his voice. "But not like this. Why do they look like this? Has the corruption already spread so far?"
Above them, the sky churned.
Massive dragons circled overhead, too vast for the land to bear, their shadows crawling across the city like a living omen. They moved like vultures around a dying sun, patient, inevitable. Each dragon was entirely black, scales absorbing all color, all radiance. Six horns crowned their heads, jagged and twisted, and even beneath direct sunlight their bodies remained nothing but silhouette.
Only their eyes existed.
Six wings unfurled from each draconic form, three on either side, giving them the shape of fallen angels. Angels that might once have descended to save the world, before choosing to burn it instead. These were awakened dragons, yet the corruption had hollowed them out, leaving only power and hunger behind.
On the ground, other beasts stood interspersed among the ferals. Sentient ones. Vampires with pale, bloodless skin. Werewolves whose muscles twitched with restrained violence. Maws that breathed rot. Titans whose footsteps cracked stone without moving.
Then one of them stepped forward.
He walked alone, calmly, confidently. His eyes were dark grey, heavy with war and the weight of forgotten centuries. Long silver hair flowed down to his feet, untouched by filth or dust. He wore a butler's suit, pristine and deliberate, a mockery of refinement amid corruption.
His lips curled.
"So," he said, voice smooth and cutting, "our King finally returns from hiding."
His gaze shifted briefly to the masses behind him.
"A named one abandons his realm for days and nights," he continued, disdain dripping from every word, "all for the sake of a ridiculous revolution. This is why the royal lineage has grown weak."
A murmur spread.
More beasts gathered, drawn by curiosity, doubt, resentment. Their steps were cautious, their expressions uncertain. These were ordinary awakened beasts, not yet swallowed by corruption.
Some raised their voices in protest.
"How could our King abandon his realm?"
"These are lies."
"Our King would never flee. He is a named one."
Their faith clashed against suspicion, colliding like brittle glass.
The silver-haired beast smiled wider.
"So what if he is a named one? He ran away when we needed him the most. And besides, the royal lineage has gone weak. There is nothing we can do to stop the revolution!"
"Yes. Let the revolution prosper. Let the kings fall from their thrones and slump upon their seats. Let the heirs be beheaded and cast out, for the sins of their fathers."
They continued to chatter.
Some raised their voices in protest, but the beasts, the ferals, the awakened, the corrupted creatures that sought democracy through revolution drowned them out. Their words sounded weak. Useless. One by one, the protests died, smothered beneath the weight of collective fury.
Veldra listened quietly, eyes calm, mind cold, assessing every complaint, every accusation, every lie wrapped in truth.
"What exactly is going on?" he asked at last."And why do they say you left the Beast Realm for days and nights?"He turned sideways, his gaze settling on Resues."What is it that you are afraid of?"
"I am afraid, my Lord," Resues said hoarsely. "Six days ago, beasts of all kinds began to scream. They muttered the names of the dead. They wailed in pain. That is how my wife lost her sanity."
His voice cracked.
"So I fled. I fled because I did not understand what was happening to my realm. And then I discovered the corruption."
"What is the corruption?" Veldra asked.
"It is you," Resues said.
The words fell like a blade.
Before Veldra could respond, Resues lunged.
"The corruption is you!" he shouted. "A man who is unknown, who writes us into madness! You corrupt the realm! You make us lose our minds! Why do you write us to be this way?!"
Veldra did not respond.
Disappointment settled into his expression, cold and heavy. Betrayal followed soon after.
Did the forest not belong to him?Was loyalty not sworn to him?Then why were rebellions everywhere?
Was Aros truly that powerful, his mind and illusions able to rot even this deep?Or was there an external hand at work?
Veldra stepped past Resues with quiet, measured steps.
He waved his hand.
Resues was erased.
No scream. No resistance. His form withered into dust, scattering into the air like ash carried by an uncaring wind.
Amon bit his tongue.
He stepped forward. "My Lord… Aros is responsible. We will speak of this later. For now, we must deal with the rebellion."
The beasts present widened their eyes, shock freezing them in place.
The beast who had stepped forward earlier paused, then advanced again, standing before Veldra.
The beast spoke carefully. "Who are you?"
"I am Veldra," he replied calmly."Lord of the Forest."