The werewolf grabbed Aethron's lifeless body with the indifference of a butcher finishing his work and tossed it aside in a single motion. The movement carried more contempt than brutality. As if what hit the ground was not a human being, but a useless object — trash. Aethron's body struck the floor hard, the echo of breaking bones resonating against the walls before fading into silence. Blood slowly crept between shattered tiles. The scent of death thickened. It felt as if everything was over. The curtain had fallen. The actor had died.
But above, three pairs of eyes watched.
When Lyra saw Aethron's body thrown so carelessly, her gaze turned cold, a darker aura stirring within her golden hair. Lilveth, however, nearly broke. The sound that escaped her chest was no longer human. Rage, pain, and possessiveness fused into something monstrous. Though the dimensional chains still restrained her, her presence began to tremble violently. Space cracked faintly around her. Her violet eyes darkened.
"Let me go!" she roared. Her voice carried both a child's desperation and a demon's fury. "I want to tear that low-level trash apart with my own hands!" As her energy surged, even the sleep rune in the sky flickered. If she were freed, not only the werewolf but its entire bloodline — perhaps even the dimension itself — would cease to exist.
But strangely…
Lyra and Lysara were not panicking.
Instead…
The same patient, devilish smile curved both their lips.
It was not the smile of hunters watching prey escape — it was the smile of beings witnessing a birth.
Lysara tilted her head slightly, almost amused by Lilveth's rage.
"My daughter…" she said softly. "Do not worry."
Her gaze shifted downward, toward the blood-soaked house.
"There is no need for you… or for us… to skin that flea."
Lilveth froze for a moment. Her fury still burned, but her mind caught on those words.
"What do you mean, Mother?" she asked, her voice darker now, cautious.
Below, the werewolf turned its back, ready to leave like a predator done with its hunt.
But then…
The blood on the floor trembled.
Shadows moved against the direction of light.
The blood spilling from Aethron's severed neck began to pull inward instead of spreading outward.
As if something invisible were breathing it back in.
What gathered around Aethron was no longer just blood. At first, the dark red liquid on the floor began to flow backward, as if pulled by an invisible force. Drop by drop, thread by thread, rising like smoke, it spiraled around his body. Then the ambient mana, emotional remnants, traces of death, and even fragments of time itself were drawn toward the center. Everything inside the house responded to the call. Walls cracked. Furniture crumbled. Glass turned into fine dust and scattered. Curtains, doors, carpets — all dissolved, losing their physical form and turning into pure energy.
Outside, flowers withered instantly.
Leaves yellowed.
Branches dried.
Soil cracked.
Their life essence was being drained.
The air grew heavy.
Wind stopped.
Birds fell silent.
Insects collapsed.
All life seemed to submit to an unseen command.
And that command…
Was Aethron.
His mother's belongings.
His father's watch.
Family photos.
Every memory.
Every trace.
Every bond.
All trembled.
Then…
Turned to dust.
And that dust shone like light as it flowed into Aethron.
All this energy, matter, and past gathered around him. A mist formed. It thickened. Hardened. Became a shell. A womb. A cocoon.
A massive, dark, light-cracked cocoon.
Pulsing.
Beating.
A structure woven from life, death, hatred, hope, and power.
Lyra, Lilveth, and Lysara froze as they watched. True shock appeared on their faces for the first time. This was planned. Expected. But not like this. Not this fast. Not this violent. Not this absolute.
Lilveth tried to speak, but no sound came out.
Fear and awe filled her eyes.
Lyra snapped out first. She spread her arms and pierced space itself. Grasped reality's edges. Instantly formed a time-space barrier around the neighborhood. Invisible. Silent. Absolute. A sealed domain.
But inside…
For the werewolf, it was a nightmare.
Instincts screamed.
"Run!"
"Run!"
"Run!"
"Run or die!"
Its heart raced.
Breathing broke.
Eyes went wild.
For the first time, it felt true fear.
This wasn't prey.
It was a disaster being born.
It burned its own life essence. Forced connection with nature. Tried absorbing remaining energy. Scratched the ground. Backed away. Searched for escape.
It shouted in panic.
"What the hell is happening?!"
"They were just normal humans?!"
"What… what is this?!"
No answer came.
Only…
The expanding cocoon.
Heartbeat…
Once.
Then again.
And again.
With every beat, the ground trembled, particles in the air rippled, and even the surface of the barrier formed microscopic cracks. This was not an ordinary biological sound. It was as if a star's core was beating. As if a universe itself was suffering through birth. That rhythm did not strike only the ears — it crashed directly into the soul. The werewolf's knees trembled uncontrollably. Its instincts were no longer whispering or warning. They were screaming. It lost control of itself in pure terror. Its entire existence was being crushed under that pulse. Its mind began to fracture.
Then…
A thin crack appeared on the surface of the cocoon.
Then another.
Then thousands, spreading like a web.
The shell began to peel away slowly. Black and crimson layers fell to the ground, dissolving into dark smoke. The energy released was so intense that the air itself seemed to burn. The werewolf had to squint. It waited. Trembling. Expecting something to emerge. A colossal form. A horrifying monster. A newborn calamity.
But…
When the cocoon finally dissolved…
It was empty.
Nothing.
Only faint sparks of energy floating in the air and fragments of fading shell.
For a moment, the werewolf froze. Its mind wavered between disbelief and mockery. All that spectacle… for this? Confidence slowly returned. Maybe it had been a false alarm. Maybe nothing had truly been born. Maybe that heartbeat had only been an energy surge. It let out a low, mocking laugh. "That's it?" it muttered, its arrogance returning.
At that moment…
Its instincts screamed again.
This time sharper.
Deadlier.
Behind it.
Right behind it.
Every hair on its neck stood up. Its muscles tensed. It tried to turn around, but before it could complete the movement, a fist crashed into its head with the weight of reality itself. The blow was not merely physical. Momentum, pressure, and density were twisted within it. Its skull shattered. Its jaw broke. Its eyes burst from their sockets. Its body was launched at a speed far beyond sound.
An explosion tore through the neighborhood.
The werewolf crashed through the first house.
Then the second.
The third, fourth…
Eight houses in a row collapsed as walls disintegrated like salt and concrete turned to dust. When its body finally stopped beneath the rubble, it was mangled beyond recognition. Bones were shattered. Organs crushed. Yet it was still alive. Its regenerative instincts had begun to activate.
And then…
Aethron appeared.
No dramatic descent.
No burst of light.
He was simply… there.
Standing beside the crushed body.
He lowered his head slightly. His eyes were no longer the same. They held no color, yet they were not empty. It was as if two opposing infinities were colliding within them. His face was calm. No rage. No grief. Only absolute resolve.
He said nothing.
He took one step forward.
Then he kicked.
That kick defied gravity. Ignored air resistance. The force behind it was not mere muscle — it was compressed existence itself. The werewolf's body shot upward, piercing the atmosphere. It surpassed ten times the speed of sound, leaving burning trails behind. Clouds split apart. The inner surface of the barrier trembled.
And seconds later…
It fell like a meteor.
The impact carved a massive crater, cracking the remaining structures of the neighborhood. The werewolf's body slammed into the ground and flattened. Bones turned to pulp. It no longer resembled a predator.
It looked like a crushed insect.
From above, Lyra narrowed her eyes. Lilveth's heart raced. Lysara's smile deepened.
Lysara turned to Lyra without taking her eyes off the destroyed area below. There was deep interest in her gaze, mixed with calculation. Her voice was calm, yet hidden admiration lay beneath it.
"Did you notice?" she said slowly.
"That kick earlier was not ordinary."
"The atoms in the sky…"
"They opened a path for Aethron."
"And before that flea hit the ground…"
"All atmospheric atoms piled onto him."
"Layer upon layer."
"Creating millions of tons of pressure."
"And literally nailed him to the earth."
Her eyes carried rare seriousness. This was no longer just the birth of a powerful being. It was the rewriting of natural laws.
Lyra nodded with overwhelming affection. A proud, uncontrollable smile formed on her lips, like a mother watching her child create a universe instead of taking a first step.
"Yes…" she said softly.
"I noticed too."
"And that sudden appearance…"
"It wasn't speed."
"It wasn't teleportation."
"He rewrote himself and the surrounding atoms."
"He replaced the atoms at that location."
"He didn't force reality…"
"He rearranged it."
Those words described a level even gods rarely reached.
As Lilveth listened, her breathing quickened. Her heart pounded violently. Her eyes never left Aethron. Her feelings were no longer just interest. They were becoming obsession. Possession. Fear. Admiration. Dependency. The thought of losing him felt like the end of existence.
But below…
Aethron was not finished.
He raised his hand again.
This time, he didn't punch.
Didn't kick.
Didn't shout.
He simply…
Thought.
And the atoms reshaped.
Air hardened.
Molecules compressed.
Energy crystallized.
Hundreds of chains formed.
Shining, dark, vibrating chains.
They moved at once.
And wrapped around the werewolf's neck.
They ignored physics.
No weight.
No momentum.
No friction.
Only absolute binding.
The werewolf hung in the air.
Feet lifted.
Breath blocked.
Throat crushed.
It struggled.
But Aethron's face showed nothing.
No anger.
No revenge.
No satisfaction.
Only emptiness.
He watched for a moment.
Then thought:
"Dying by suffocation…"
"Too easy."
"Not worthy."
And then…
He activated another ability.
Bio Manipulation.
Direct interference with biological code.
Rewriting cells.
Forcing DNA to reshape.
Redefining flesh, bone, and blood.
Instantly…
The werewolf's body trembled.
Bones cracked.
Fur fell.
Muscles dissolved.
Claws retracted.
Fangs shrank.
And within seconds…
It became human.
A bloodied young man hanging between chains.
Aethron looked.
And recognized him.
He didn't know his name.
But he knew the face.
Leon's follower.
His errand boy.
His dog.
The young man barely opened his eyes.
Trembling, he whispered:
"W-What did you do to me…?"
"W-Why…"
"Do I…"
"Feel so weak…?"
Aethron looked at the young man hanging between the chains with an emotionless expression. There was no anger in his eyes. No mercy. It was as if he was not facing a living being, but a task that needed to be completed. His voice was calm, almost casual.
"It's nothing important," he said coldly.
"I just turned you back into a human."
"At least…"
"So you can endure what I'm about to do for a few hours…"
"I modified you a little."
There was no emotion in his words.
It was like explaining an experiment.
Then he slowly raised his hand.
His fingers moved slightly.
And the atoms obeyed once again.
The ground trembled.
The air thickened.
Space warped.
Beneath the transformed young man, reality collapsed. First, a small depression formed. Then it rapidly deepened. Soil, concrete, and energy bent together. Within seconds, a massive purplish spike rose from the ground. Its surface was not smooth. Not polished. It pulsed like a living organism. Countless tiny protrusions covered it. Upon closer inspection, they were parasitic entities — tens of thousands of them. The spike itself had become a living instrument of torment.
This was not an ordinary spike.
It was designed to maximize suffering.
The young man lost his mind when he saw it.
His eyes widened.
His breath stopped.
His body began to shake violently.
"N-No…!" he cried desperately.
"Please… don't…!"
"I'll do anything…!"
"Please…!"
But Aethron did not listen.
Or…
He chose not to.
He lowered one finger.
And the chains moved.
Downward.
Slowly.
Mercilessly.
The young man screamed and struggled.
The spike touched his body.
Then…
Pierced through.
Pain surpassed every limit the human mind could process.
Blood sprayed everywhere.
The floor was dyed red.
The scream echoed within the barrier.
But no one heard it.
Within seconds…
It was over.
When the chains stopped…
Only a lifeless body remained.
Aethron took a deep breath.
His chest rose and fell.
And for the first time…
A faint sense of relief appeared on his face.
The pressure inside him eased.
The rage dispersed.
The pain faded.
But the cost was heavy.
These new powers…
Were still foreign to his body and mind.
Using such immense energy in such a short time…
Was overwhelming him.
His vision darkened.
His ears rang.
His knees weakened.
His body leaned forward.
He was about to collapse.
At that moment…
Someone appeared beside him.
Warm.
Soft.
With a familiar scent.
Two arms wrapped around him from behind.
Strong, yet gentle.
Holding his trembling body.
Not letting him fall.
It was…
Lilveth.
Her face was filled with fear, worry, and deep affection.
She whispered into his ear.
"I'm here…"
"Don't fall…"
"I've got you…"
And the last thing Aethron felt before losing consciousness…
Was Lilveth's warmth.