The first thing I noticed was the bones.

Too many of them.

I knew what a fire boar was supposed to look like.

Stocky, powerful, with broad shoulders and a thick, leathery hide. A mane of fire running down its spine, tusks curved forward like sharpened scimitars.

But this?

This thing?

This was wrong.

The boar that burst from the sealed room was a grotesque mockery of its kind.

Its body was too thin—skin stretched over bones, ribs visible with every ragged breath it took. Its back had a hunched deformity, a grotesque bulge rising unnaturally from the base of its neck.

It had four tusks instead of two.

Two of them twisted inward, piercing into its own mouth. The other two curved outward—jagged, unnatural, malformed.

And its eyes—

Red.

Not the deep, warm ember-like glow of a healthy fire beast.

Pure, bloody crimson.

Like something had gone wrong inside of it.

Its skin was darker, close to black, but uneven—cracked in places, scars running along its body like something had tried to tear it apart and failed. Its hooves were overgrown, curling like neglected nails. And on its front legs—

Two bulging growths.

At first, I thought they were just unnatural lumps of flesh.

But then I realized—

They were bones.

Jagged, protruding out of its skin.

Broken bones? Or deformed ones? I couldn’t tell.

But what I did know—

Was that this wasn’t natural.

This wasn’t just a sick beast.

This was something else entirely.

A failed experiment.

And the moment Dion saw it—he lost it.

“GET BACK HERE!”

Dion’s voice roared across the farm.

His hand shot out—his own beast materializing instantly.

A Crimsonfang Hound.

Lean, vicious, built for the kill. Its body was wreathed in black and red flames, fur crackling with heat.

The deformed boar barely had time to react before the hound pounced.

Teeth sank into flesh.

The air filled with a sickening CRUNCH.

The deformed beast squealed.

It was fast.

But not strong.

Not anymore.

Dion’s hound dominated the fight in seconds, slamming the boar to the ground, its fangs tearing through already-weak flesh.

And just like that—it was over.

The twisted boar lay collapsed, panting, bleeding.

Weak.

Dying.

And Dion?

He stepped forward, grabbing it by the scruff like a discarded toy.

“Back to your cage,” he muttered. "I don't understand how you got out in the first place."

But before he could take another step—

My mother’s voice cut through the air.

“What the hell is going on here?”

Dion froze.

Slowly, he turned.

And for the first time—his fake, friendly mask was completely gone.

“…Excuse me?” he asked, voice flat.

Mother took a single step forward, her eyes piercing.

“This—” she gestured toward the wounded beast, “—isn't a natural mutation.”

Dion’s grip tightened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Mother ignored him.

“I see clear signs of bloodline alteration. I see forced mutations, deformation magic—”

“I run a legal breeding facility,” Dion interrupted sharply.

Mother’s lips curled. “Then why do I see illegal malpractice?”

Tension crackled in the air.

Chia edged closer to me, whispering, “A-Akul…”

But I was too focused.

Mother continued, voice cold.

“This is clearly a result of mutation-inducing magic. A practice that is—”

“—forbidden,” Dion finished bitterly. His eyes darkened. “You have no proof.”

“Is that so?” Mother tilted her head.

Then, with a single, calm sentence—she destroyed him.

“Would you like me to contact the Beast Association and have your license revoked?”

Silence.

Dion’s entire body stiffened.

Dion’s fingers curled tightly around the boar’s scruff.

For a moment, no one moved.

Then—he smirked.

“Revoke my license?” His voice was light. Too light. Like this was all a joke to him. “Do you think that scares me...? Bitch!"

A shift in the air.

Not mana—but intent.

Killing intent.

The moment I felt it, so did Bobo.

His fur bristled. His tiny hands clenched my sleeve, his body tensed.

Dion’s smirk widened—because he saw it too.

The Crimsonfang Hound walked closer to its master, letting its presence be known.

“So what now?” he mused, tilting his head. “You’ll report me? Have the authorities investigate?”

His fingers tightened around the boar’s frail body.

It let out a weak, strangled wheeze.

“By the time they arrive, this thing won’t even exist.”

My stomach dropped.

I took a sharp step forward—but Mother’s hand snapped up.

Not yet.

Dion chuckled. “That’s the thing about weak creatures, isn’t it? They break so… easily.”

His hound prowled forward.

Teeth bared.

Eyes locked onto us.

A heatwave pulsed off its body, the air around it shimmering from the sheer heat.

Dion wasn’t bluffing.

He wasn’t scared.

Not completely.

Because, even if the Beast Association came—there were ways out of this.

They’d need evidence. Documentation. Direct witnesses.

And until then?

This was his land. His domain.

If things went south—he had more than enough muscle to force his way out.

And Mother knew it.

Her posture remained calm.

But her fingers flexed slightly—calculating.

Then, finally, she sighed.

“Alright,” she murmured. “I see how it is.”

Dion’s grin widened.

Mother stepped forward.

Slow. Controlled.

And just as his confidence peaked—

She moved.

Her foot slammed down.

Mana surged.

Dion’s grin vanished.

The ground beneath us rippled. A sudden, invisible pressure crushed down on the farm.

It wasn’t a spell.

It wasn’t an attack.

It was presence.

Pure, undiluted dominance.

The Crimsonfang Hound stumbled back, whining.

Bobo froze.

Even I struggled to breathe.

But Dion?

For the first time—he looked uncertain.

Mother exhaled, her voice dropping to a deadly whisper.

“I didn’t come here looking for trouble.”

A pause.

Then—her head tilted, just slightly.

“But if you think I won’t break every single bone in your body before the authorities arrive—”

She smiled.

“—then you’re more delusional than I thought.”

Dion’s jaw clenched.

A single bead of sweat slid down his temple.

For a few, agonizing seconds—no one spoke.

Then, finally—his grip loosened.

He dropped the deformed beast onto the dirt.

“…Fine,” he muttered.

But his eyes never left us.

Even as Mother picked up the wounded creature.

Even as we turned away.

Even as we walked off his land.

That smirk—never fully disappeared.

And I knew—

This wasn’t over.

Not by a long shot.

The entire way back—I was burning with questions.

How did mom do that?

Who was he working for?

How deep did this actually go?

And most importantly—

“Mother.” I finally spoke up.

She turned to me.

“…Why didn’t you report him?”

Her expression darkened.

For a moment, she didn’t answer.

Then—she sighed.

“This runs deeper than one breeder, Akul.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

She glanced down at the wounded beast on the transportation trails

“The magic used here… this wasn’t low-level experimentation. This was advanced.”

Her grip tightened slightly.

“This wasn’t just some shady breeder trying his hand at mutation magic.”

Her voice lowered.

“This was a deliberate project.”

"A project that had failed."

A chill ran down my spine.

I swallowed. “So then… why not stop it?”

Mother exhaled.

“Because, Akul—this is bigger than us.”

She met my gaze.

“We got the beast out. That’s the most we could do.”

And even though it didn’t sit right with me…

"At least for now... my son this is for the best."

I understood.

For now—

This wasn’t our fight.

But something told me—

It would be, soon enough.