The grand hall of the High Council chamber was a masterpiece of modern magic and architecture. The high, vaulted ceilings were adorned with intricate carvings of mythical creatures and arcane symbols, while the walls were lined with ancient tomes and relics that spoke of the academy's long and storied history. A large, circular table sat in the centre of the room, surrounded by plush, high-backed chairs, in which sat

members of the High Council, each draped in formal robes signifying their authority. Among them sat the now Vice headmaster Lillian, his sharp gaze unwavering, a quiet storm of support amidst a sea of hostility.

Chloe, Elysia, and Irina stood before the council, their poised demeanours concealing the tension that coiled within them. Behind them, holographic projections displayed the reform document authored by Susana Bentley, outlining sweeping changes to NovaMyst Academy's structure.

"Let me get this straight," one council member sneered, leaning forward. He was an older man with hawkish features and a sharp voice that cut through the air. "You propose that we eradicate the distinctions between Marks, Voiders, and Blanks? Erase centuries of tradition that upheld this institution's excellence?"

Another councilwoman, her tone equally venomous, added, "The very same people who, not long ago, attempted to destroy this academy? And you expect us to offer them equality?"

The words hung in the air, heavy with accusation. Irina's eyes flicked to Elysia, who stepped forward, her voice cold and regal.

"Tradition," Elysia began, "has blinded this institution to its own decay. And that decay has nearly destroyed us. The reforms are not a matter of convenience; they are a matter of survival."

The councilwoman bristled. "Survival? By coddling the very groups who sowed rebellion in our halls?"

"Rebellion," Chloe cut in sharply, her voice slicing through the tension like a blade, "was born of inequality. The attack was orchestrated by outside forces, not by the Blanks themselves. And the academy's failure to address systemic injustice only strengthened those forces."

Vice headmaster Lillian nodded subtly, his voice a rare calm amid the storm. "The students have demonstrated extraordinary unity in the aftermath of the attack. This proposal reflects their growing desire to move forward—not backward."

The hawkish man sneered. "And yet, you ask us to throw away centuries of carefully maintained order because a handful of students think they know better?"

Chloe straightened, her family's authority radiating from her every word. "This isn't a request. The Rawllings name backs these reforms, as does the Vossen name through Vice Headmaster Lillian. If the High Council refuses, you'll not only lose the support of the three most powerful families in Eurastra, but you'll also expose yourselves to scrutiny from a public already questioning this institution's competence."

The council chamber fell into a stunned silence. The Rawllings name was a juggernaut; invoking it was akin to wielding a weapon of unmatched power. But Chloe wasn't done. She stepped aside, nodding toward Elysia, who took the cue with measured grace.

"As an Arundel," Elysia said, her voice carrying the weight of royal authority, "I don't need to remind you of what's at stake. Without the magical grid, the academy's influence—and its survival—hangs by a thread. These reforms are not just a necessity; they are the only chance this institution has to adapt to the new reality."

The hawkish man's mouth opened, but no words came out. The room's energy shifted as the weight of their combined names pressed down on the council. Finally, a softer-spoken member spoke up.

"What assurances do we have that these changes won't lead to further instability?"

Vice Headmaster Lillian spoke then, his voice carrying an unshakable conviction. "Instability comes from resistance to change. Embracing these reforms isn't a risk—it's an opportunity to lead, to show the world that NovaMyst can adapt and thrive."

The council murmured among themselves before the hawkish man finally regained his composure. "Fine. But we have conditions."

Chloe's jaw tightened, but she nodded. "State them."

The hawkish man leaned forward, his sharp eyes gleaming with predatory satisfaction. "If we are to approve these reforms, the academy must agree to certain stipulations."

"Which are?" Chloe asked, her voice carefully neutral.

"First," the man said, "a mandatory service period for all students upon graduation. They will serve the ATRA directly, ensuring their loyalty and utility to society."

Elysia frowned but kept silent as the councilman continued.

"Second, all new dormitories must be outfitted with monitoring spells to ensure compliance with academy regulations."

Irina's lip curled slightly in disgust, but she said nothing.

"And third," the man finished, a thin smile on his lips, "the academy will host the first-ever Intercontinental Academy Competition."

The room stilled. Elysia's brow furrowed. "An international competition?"

"Yes," the councilman said. "Each continent will send its best schools to compete. NovaMyst will serve as the host, showcasing its resilience and innovation to the world. This will be an opportunity to secure funding and alliances in the wake of the grid's collapse."

Chloe exchanged a glance with Elysia, who gave a small nod. They didn't like it, but refusing would mean losing everything they'd fought for.

"Agreed," Chloe said, her voice steady. "We'll accept the conditions."

The councilman leaned back, satisfied. "Then it's settled."

Two days after the high council meeting, Irina found herself returning home once more,

The wind howled through the abandoned alleyway in Sovitechna, Eurastra's industrial rival to the academy's glistening hub of progress. Irina pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders, her every step echoing in the empty streets. She stopped at a crumbling door, knocking twice before it creaked open to reveal a dimly lit room.

Inside stood a woman dressed in sharp, militaristic attire, her expression cold and calculating. Irina bowed slightly, a gesture of respect as much as necessity.

"You've kept me waiting." the woman said, her voice clipped. "Care to tell me why?"

"Apologies, Agent Zastoy. I had to ensure I wasn't followed," Irina replied smoothly, her eyes darting to the room's shadowed corners.

The woman gestured for her to sit. "Your report?"

Irina sat, her posture poised but tense. "The academy is faltering. The reforms will pass, but the strain on their leadership is evident. Without the grid, their power is fractured."

The woman leaned forward, her lips curving into a thin smile. "Good. Then we proceed as planned."

"And my brother?" Irina asked, her voice betraying a flicker of concern.

"Your brother is irrelevant," the woman said dismissively. "Focus on your task: undermining NovaMyst's unity. Without unity, the reforms will fail, and Eurastra will fall into our hands."

Irina nodded, though her stomach twisted with unease. "Understood."

The Solstice's festivities filled the academy with a bittersweet energy. Holographic snowflakes drifted through the air, glowing faintly as they landed on the heads of students wandering the main courtyard. The integration of dormitories had changed the atmosphere dramatically, and whispers followed Chloe and Elysia as they made their way to Nate's room.

When they reached his door, both carrying small, carefully wrapped gifts, they paused, exchanging a tense glance.

"You're here for him too," Chloe said flatly.

Elysia nodded. "I guess we both are."

Chloe sighed, then knocked.

Nate opened the door, his expression unreadable. His eyes flicked between them before landing on the half-packed bag on his bed.

"You were leaving," Elysia said softly.

Nate's shoulders stiffened. "I was considering it. After all it is Christmas eve and I hate Christmas."

Chloe blinked, confusion etching her features. "Christmas? What's Christmas?"

Nate's eyes widened slightly, realizing his slip, but before he could respond, Elysia quickly stepped in.

"Nate meant Solstice Festival," she said smoothly, casting a quick, meaningful glance at Nate. "I have no idea where he got the word 'Christmas' from. Must be some obscure term he picked up from one of those ancient tomes in the library."

Nate nodded, trying to mask his surprise at Elysia's quick thinking. "Yeah, Solstice Festival. That's what I meant."

Chloe's confusion lingered, but she shrugged it off. "Well, whatever you call it, I didn't expect to find you packing up to leave. Especially not tonight."

Elysia stepped forward, her eyes softened with concern. "Nate, we need you here. We all do. We're stronger together, remember?"

"Besides," said Chloe, her voice firm but not unkind. "You weren't even going to say goodbye?"

"I didn't think it mattered," Nate replied, his voice sharp. "To any of you."

"It matters," Elysia said, her tone cracking slightly. "You matter."

Nate's gaze darkened, his frustration boiling over. "I matter? Since when? All I've done is survive, and all it brought me is more blame, more hate, and people either end up turning on me, lying or questioning me like they don't know me."

Chloe stepped closer, her hand brushing his arm. "You're not alone, Nate. We've all been through hell, but running won't fix anything."

For a moment, silence hung between them. Then Nate turned away, his voice quiet but bitter. "I don't belong here. I never did. It was stupid of me to think otherwise."

Elysia stepped further into the room, her hand brushing against the edge of Nate's desk as if anchoring herself. She could feel the sharp edges of his words lingering in the air, the bitterness slicing at her more than she wanted to admit.

"Nate," she began softly, her voice trembling with restrained emotion, "you say you don't belong, but that's not true. You're part of this—part of us. Why can't you see that?"

Nate turned to face her, his eyes dark with exhaustion and something raw, something unspoken. "Part of what, Elysia?" he asked, his voice rising. "Part of a council that debates whether I'm worth saving? Part of a world that looks at me like I'm some kind of monster? Tell me—where exactly do I belong? Because all I see are walls closing in, people questioning my every move, and the constant reminder that I'm different."

Elysia flinched but didn't back away. Instead, she stepped closer, closing the gap between them. Her voice was quiet but resolute. "You belong here, with us. You belong with me."

Her words hit him like a blow, and for a moment, Nate's defences faltered. He looked into her eyes, searching for deceit, for pity, but all he found was a fierce honesty that threatened to unravel him.

"You don't mean that," Nate said, his voice cracking despite his best efforts to remain stoic. "You're a princess, Elysia. You're perfect. And me? I'm... I'm something people fear. Something people whisper about behind closed doors. Something you yourself feared as well remember? You deserve better."

Elysia's hand shot out, gripping his wrist. Her touch was firm, grounding. "Stop," she said, her tone sharper now, edged with frustration. "Stop deciding what I deserve. Stop shutting me out because you're scared."

Chloe, who had been standing quietly, watching the exchange, stepped forward. Her usual confident demeanour was replaced with something softer, more vulnerable. "Nate, you're not the only one carrying scars. You think we don't feel the weight of what's happened? You think we don't blame ourselves for what we've done—or failed to do?"

Nate's gaze flicked to her, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You don't get it, Chloe. You have your family, your legacy. You're a Rawllings. People bow to you. Me? I'm just the monster who happened to survive long enough to become a convenient scapegoat."

Chloe's voice wavered as she spoke, but she refused to let her words falter. "Do you think that means anything to me? My family name? My legacy? If anything, it's a prison. Just like yours." She took another step closer, her voice softening. "We're all trapped, Nate. In different ways, sure, but that doesn't mean we can't break free together."

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The room was silent for a moment, the three of them standing in a tense triangle, their emotions raw and unfiltered. Finally, Elysia broke the silence.

"Nate, you once told me that you didn't care about my family's expectations, that you saw me for who I am—not the Arundel name, not the legacy. Just me." Her voice cracked slightly, but she pressed on. "And I see you the same way. Not as a Blank, not as a monster. Just you. The person who fought to protect this academy. The person who stood by us, even when the world gave you every reason to walk away."

Nate's chest tightened, her words cutting through the layers of anger and self-loathing he had wrapped around himself like armour. He turned away, his shoulders slumping as he ran a hand through his hair. "I'm tired," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm so fucking tired... unfortunately none of this would work."

The silence in the room grew heavier after Nate's last words, his voice trembling under the weight of his frustration. Chloe and Elysia stood frozen, their emotions flickering across their faces like a wildfire barely contained. Elysia took another step forward, her voice breaking the tense stillness.

"Nate, don't do this," she said softly, her tone carrying equal parts plea and defiance. "You think it won't work because you're scared. Scared of what you mean to us. Scared of what you could mean to me."

Nate's laugh was bitter, sharp, like broken glass underfoot. "Scared? No, Elysia. I'm done being scared. I've fought too hard to survive to still be scared. What I am is tired. Tired of pretending like this place, like any of you, could ever be a home for me, in a system that is worse than my home."

Chloe's brow furrowed, pain flashing in her eyes. "That's not true! You—"

"Don't," Nate interrupted harshly, his voice rising with frustration. "Don't stand there and tell me how much I 'matter' to you when you don't even know what I am."

"And you Elysia, you called me your friend. That's what I am to you, isn't it? Just a friend. Just someone you can rely on when it's convenient."

Elysia's mouth opened, but no words came out. His words hit her harder than she expected, and for a moment, she couldn't respond.

Nate's tone darkened further, his eyes narrowing. "And if I'm not just a friend? If I'm something more? Then why didn't you say it? Why didn't you say anything when you had the chance? Or do you just like keeping the monster at arm's length?"

"Nate, that's not—" Elysia's voice cracked, but he cut her off again.

"No," he growled. "You don't get to explain. If you want me to stay, if you think I belong, then prove it. Command me. After all, isn't that what you do best, princess?" His voice was venomous, each word a dagger thrown with precision. "You own me. You and your royal blood. You own the monster. So, tell me, Elysia, what does that make you?"

The air seemed to be sucked out of the room, leaving a suffocating stillness in its wake. Elysia's lips trembled, but she didn't look away. Her eyes were full of anguish, her hands clenching into fists at her sides as if willing herself to remain strong.

"That's enough," Chloe interjected, stepping forward, her voice trembling with restrained anger. "Stop lashing out at her because you're too much of a coward to face your own feelings."

Nate turned to her, his glare icy. "Coward? That's rich coming from you, Chloe. You, who hides behind your family name. You, who would rather play politics than admit you care about anything or anyone that doesn't benefit you."

Chloe flinched, but she didn't back down. "I'm standing here, aren't I? I'm trying to stop you from throwing away the people who care about you. But you're too wrapped up in your self-pity to see it."

"Care about me?" Nate scoffed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You care about your reputation. Don't pretend like this is about me."

"This isn't about reputation!" Chloe snapped, her voice shaking with emotion. "This is about you, Nate! About you walking away from the people who—"

"Who what, Chloe?" Nate spat. "Who love me? Who need me? That's bullshit, and you know it. I'm a liability to all of you. Every time I get close to someone, I hurt them, whether I mean to or not."

As Chloe opened her mouth to argue, she and Elysia both stepped forward, their desperation to reach him overcoming their hesitation. But as they closed the distance, the air in the room shifted, heavy and charged.

The scar across Nate's chest, the mark left by consuming the Hell Fruit, began to glow faintly, a sickly crimson light pulsing like a heartbeat. His eyes widened in horror as he felt the pull—an unseen force drawing on their life energy.

"Stop!" Nate shouted, backing away, but it was too late.

Both girls staggered, their faces paling as the glow intensified. Their energy seemed to waver, strands of light flickering from their bodies toward the mark on Nate's chest. Chloe gasped, clutching at her head as a wave of weakness washed over her. Elysia fell to one knee, her breathing laboured, her eyes filled with pain and confusion.

"No!" Nate roared, his hands clawing at his chest as if trying to rip the scar away. "Not again! I won't let this happen!"

He stumbled backward, his body trembling as he fought to stop the drain. His own strength surged as theirs faded, the curse feeding on their vitality and transferring it to him. The scar burned, the pain searing through him as he tried to break the connection.

With a guttural yell, Nate slammed himself into the wall, the impact jarring enough to disrupt the pull. The glow of the scar flickered, then faded, leaving the room in tense silence.

Chloe and Elysia collapsed to the floor, gasping for breath. Nate stood frozen, his chest heaving, his eyes wide with horror. His voice was a broken whisper as he stared at them, his hands trembling.

"See?" he said bitterly, his voice cracking. "Monster. That's all I am. That's all I'll ever be."

"Nate—" Elysia tried to reach for him, her voice weak, but he took a step back, shaking his head.

"Stay away from me," he said, his tone sharp but filled with anguish. "Both of you."

He turned, grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. Without another word, he strode to the door, his footsteps echoing in the heavy silence.

As he reached the threshold, he paused, his back to them. His voice was barely audible, thick with pain and regret. "I'm sorry."

And then he was gone, leaving Chloe and Elysia behind, their hearts shattered as the door clicked shut. The emptiness he left behind was suffocating, the weight of his departure settling over the room like a dark cloud.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke, the gravity of what had just happened sinking in. The faint glow of the holographic snowflakes outside cast eerie shadows on the walls, a bitter contrast to the warmth they had hoped to bring.

The Abyss District hadn't changed much on the surface. The air was still thick with smog, the faint metallic tang of oil and rust clinging to Nate's throat as he made his way deeper into its shadowed alleyways. The district's neon signs, haphazardly thrown up against decaying buildings, buzzed and flickered, casting fragmented light on the narrow streets. Piles of debris littered the corners, but there was an unmistakable shift in the air, one Nate couldn't ignore.

As he walked, the message replayed in his mind, the one that had turned his world inside out. It had come days ago, unsigned but unmistakably damning. He remembered the words as though they'd been etched into his skin:

"The council is unanimous. The top five families have signed off on your culpability, Nate Davis. You are the instigator of the NovaMyst attack, the disruption of the magical grid, and the chaos that has spread through Eurastra. For the good of the continent, you will be captured and dealt with accordingly."

The worst part was that Nate hadn't even been surprised. He'd known from the beginning that this was where things would lead. Blanks were always expendable, their worth decided by those above them. He'd spent months enduring the academy's scrutiny, the whispers, and the pointed stares. And now, it had culminated in this—a document signed by the very people he'd tried to protect. By Chloe's family. By Elysia's. By Anton's.

He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. The thought of those signatures—each one a betrayal—sent a fresh wave of bitterness through him. This was why he had lashed out, why he had pushed them away. He hadn't wanted to see their pity when they found out. And now he was alone, exactly where he had forced himself to be.

The deeper into the Abyss he went, the more the changes became apparent. The district had always been a haven for the forgotten and the desperate, but without the magical grid regulating Eurastra, it had taken on a new identity. People with crude, illegal implants roamed the streets, their limbs augmented with metallic prosthetics that glinted in the dim neon light. Others sported patchwork augments, their skin fused with wires and machinery, the results of back-alley operations done by surgeons with more ambition than skill.

A man shuffled past Nate, his left eye replaced with a glowing red orb that occasionally sparked, sending faint wisps of smoke into the air. A woman leaned against a wall nearby, her arms encased in bulky, mechanical gauntlets that pulsed faintly with blue energy. Children darted between the crowds, their laughter tinged with a metallic echo from the small, implanted voice modulators they'd clearly been born without.

It was chaos, but it was also survival. Nate recognized that spark in the people around him—the same one that had kept him alive all these years. Without the magical grid, the powerful families had lost their chokehold on Aetherium, and the people of the Abyss had found ways to reclaim some of it for themselves. Counterfeit implants, illegal enchantments, and crude augmentations had become the new currency of power here, and for the first time, Nate saw something like hope in the eyes of those that did not fit inside the norm.

Yet, that hope was fragile, teetering on the edge of collapse. Without regulation, Aetherium could only do so much, and the desperation beneath the surface of the Abyss District was palpable. Fights broke out in the alleys, brief flashes of energy lighting up the darkness before fading back into shadows. Nate stepped carefully around a pile of scrap where a man was haggling loudly with a vendor over the price of a makeshift energy core.

He couldn't help but think of Chloe and Elysia as he walked. Of their faces when he had turned his anger on them. The things he'd said, the way he had pushed them away—it had been cruel. But it had worked. He'd made them hate him, or at least doubt him enough to stay out of his way. And now, all he had left was this—wandering through a district that mirrored his own fractured sense of self.

The message echoed in his mind again, the weight of its accusations pressing down on him. The families were coming for him, and it wasn't just about justice. It was about erasing the reminder that even a Blank could stand on equal footing with them. His survival was an affront to their order, and they wouldn't stop until he was gone.

Nate stopped in front of a dilapidated building, its façade cracked and covered in graffiti. The symbol of the Purity Front had been spray-painted across the entrance, a crude reminder of the organization's lingering influence. He stepped inside, the air growing colder as he descended a set of narrow stairs.

The room at the bottom was dimly lit, a single, flickering bulb casting shadows across the cracked concrete walls. A group of figures stood waiting, their faces obscured by hoods. Nate tensed, his hand brushing against the hilt of the katana at his side.

"Davis," one of them said, their voice distorted by a mechanical filter. "You've been hard to track."

Nate smirked, though the gesture didn't reach his eyes. "Not hard enough, apparently."

The figures spread out, encircling him. Their movements were precise, coordinated—this wasn't some gang of low-level thugs. These were professionals, sent by the families to bring him in.

"You've caused quite a mess," the voice continued. "The syndicate would very much like to speak to you, Mr Davis. You can come quietly, or—"

"Or what?" Nate interrupted, his tone sharp. "You'll kill me? Go ahead. Let's see how far that gets you."

The tension in the room crackled like static, a suffocating charge that made the air feel heavier with every passing second. Nate's scar began to burn, not just with heat but with an almost living presence, as if it were reacting to the danger surrounding him. He clenched his fists, the faint tremor of barely contained energy rippling through his body. The figures around him shifted, their hands hovering over weapons still concealed beneath their cloaks.

The leader took a single step forward, their voice sharp and mechanical. "Davis, let's make this simple. You've got nowhere to go. You can either come with us quietly, or we'll make an example out of you for the rest of this district."

Nate tilted his head, the faintest smirk pulling at his lips, though his eyes betrayed none of the humour. "Quietly?" he said, his voice a low, menacing drawl. "You've got no idea who you're dealing with, do you?"

The leader's fingers flexed near their CAT, but they didn't draw. Nate could feel the unease rippling through the room, could hear the faint catch in their breaths as they noticed the way his shadow seemed to shift unnaturally, stretching and twisting across the cracked concrete walls like it had a mind of its own.

The scar across his chest throbbed, its heat surging into his veins like molten fire. He let out a slow breath, his smirk vanishing, replaced by a grim, predatory stillness. "Let me save you the trouble of finding out the hard way," he said, his voice dropping lower, guttural and otherworldly. "You're not here to capture me. You're here to survive me."

Before the leader could respond, the room plunged into chaos. Nate's body erupted with dark, swirling energy, the scar across his chest blazing crimson as jagged lines of demonic markings spread across his skin. His once-human eyes ignited into twin orbs of molten fire, a vivid, hellish red emblazoned with intricate, glowing runes. The symbols spiralled around a central pentagram, the brightness of the markings almost painful to look at, as if they were searing through the very fabric of reality. The eyes burned with unrelenting fury, their eldritch glow casting jagged shadows that danced across the walls.

The air around him warped and shimmered, and a suffocating aura rolled off him like a tidal wave, pressing down on everything in the room. His presence wasn't just overwhelming—it was predatory, ancient, and primal, like staring into the abyss and realizing it was staring back.

The figures moved to react, but they were too slow. Nate raised his hand, and with a flick of his fingers, the nearest figure was slammed into the wall by an invisible force, the concrete cracking beneath the impact. Another lunged at him with a blade glowing faintly with runic light, but Nate's arm shot out, his hand engulfed in claw-like shadows that grabbed the attacker mid-strike and crushed the weapon to shards, and with a sickening crack, Nate crushed their windpipe like brittle glass. Blood spurted from their mouth as their body went limp, but Nate wasn't done. He slammed the corpse into the nearest wall with enough force to leave a splatter of blood and brain matter as their skull shattered on impact.

"You really thought this was going to go your way?" Nate snarled, his voice a deep, distorted growl that echoed unnaturally. His burning eyes fixed on the leader, their glow intensifying, casting an ominous red hue over the group. His gaze alone seemed to drain the strength from those who dared meet it, their knees buckling under the weight of his power. "You thought you could take me down?"

The others moved to attack, but Nate's shadow expanded unnaturally, tendrils of darkness whipping out like living serpents. One soldier raised their weapon, but before they could fire, a shadow tendril coiled around their arm and yanked it clean off with a wet, tearing sound. The soldier's scream filled the room as blood sprayed in thick, pulsing arcs, painting the walls in crimson.

Another attacker lunged at Nate with a blade humming with magical energy. Nate caught the blade with his bare hand, the steel disintegrating into ash upon contact with the raw demonic energy surging through him. His other hand lashed out, fingers elongating into claws that pierced the soldier's chest. With a savage roar, Nate tore upward, splitting the man's torso in half. Intestines and gore spilled to the ground in a steaming heap as the body crumpled, lifeless.

The remaining soldiers hesitated, their terror palpable. "Fall back!" one of them shouted, but Nate's laughter—dark, cruel, and echoing—drowned out their words.

"Fall back?" Nate mocked, his voice dripping with malice. "There's nowhere to run."

He raised his hand, and the air in the room grew suffocatingly hot as a sphere of molten energy formed above his palm. He hurled it at the group, the projectile exploding on impact and engulfing two of the soldiers in a wave of liquid fire. Their screams were agonizing as their flesh melted from their bones, leaving charred, blackened skeletons that got dismantled into heaps of ash.

The leader, coughing and struggling to stand, glared at Nate with a mixture of fury and fear. "You think you can just walk away from this? The Syndicate—"

"The Syndicate? Nate interrupted, his voice cutting through the room like a blade. "Am I suppose to know who they are?"

"Please!" The leader begged dropping their CAT and falling to their knees. "We were just following orders!"

"Following orders," Nate repeated mockingly, his head tilting as he considered their words. He crouched down to their level, his fiery eyes inches from theirs. "Then go on by all means run I'll let you go."

The leader looks at Nate, eyes still shaking with fear but Nate gestures with his head to tell him it is okay for him to go. However just as the leader was about the reach the exit, Nate's shadow surged forward like a living wave. It wrapped around their legs and dragged them back, slamming them into the ground with bone-shattering force. Nate loomed over them, his demonic energy crackling like a storm as he extended his clawed hand. He drove it into their skull, the sickening crunch of bone and the wet squelch of brain matter filling the air.

As the last body fell, the room descended into silence, broken only by the dripping of blood pooling on the floor. Nate stood in the centre of the carnage, his chest heaving, the glow of his scar slowly dimming. His fiery eyes flickered back to their human form, but the darkness within them remained.

He looked down at the ruined remains of his attackers, their bodies broken and unrecognizable. For a moment, he stood motionless, the weight of his actions settling over him. Then, with a cold, detached finality, he wiped his bloodied hands on the cloak of one of the corpses.

As he turned to leave, his voice was low, almost a whisper, but it carried the weight of a death knell.

You want a monster?" he muttered, his lips curling into a bitter smile. "You've got one."