A sound tore from my throat—raw, primal, deafening.

“STOOOP!”

It wasn’t just a scream.

It was everything.

Fury. Fear. Desperation.

It ripped through the chaos like a burning blade, slicing through the air, through the instincts of every single monkey in that enclosure.

For a moment—

A fragile, breathless moment—

The world stopped.

Then—

Terror.

A wave of primal fear exploded outward.

Monkeys froze mid-snarling, mid-striking. Their bodies locked. Their fur bristled. Their wide, panicked eyes flicked to me.

And they knew.

Something deeper than reason—something ancient, something instinctual—screamed at them to flee.

And they obeyed.

Some trembled where they stood, bodies coiling inward, submitting, shaking.

Some bolted, screeching in terror, vanishing into the trees.

Others stayed, their bodies low, defensive— but not attacking.

Not anymore.

Because they felt it.

Death had entered the enclosure.

And it had come from me.

I didn’t care.

I was already running.

My feet barely touched the ground as I threw myself forward, shoving past the lingering bodies, past the fear-stunned juveniles—

Straight to Bobo.

I hit my knees beside him.

His small body shuddered, his fur slick with blood. His chest rose and fell in weak, shallow breaths.

Too weak.

Too slow.

Too—

No.

I pulled him into my arms.

Held him tight.

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And then—instinct, desperation—I activated my skill.

Vital Surge.

The moment the energy surged from my grimoire, I pushed everything into it.

All of it.

My mana, my focus, my will—I didn’t hold back.

A soft, golden glow spread over his body.

Not an instant heal.

Not magic.

But life.

It seeped into him, into every broken part of him, urging his body to do what it was meant to do. To repair. To recover.

I held him close, whispering his name, pouring my soul into keeping him here, keeping him with me.

Then—

A rush of movement.

A blur of people.

Hands grabbing me, voices shouting—

My mother.

My father.

More hands, lifting Bobo, carrying him—

And I ran with them.

Through the enclosure, past the stunned workers, straight toward the nursing center.

I didn’t let go.

Didn’t loosen my hold.

Didn’t stop pouring my power into him.

His small body pressed against me, still warm, still breathing—

I clung to that.

I clung to him.

And as we ran, as the world blurred past—

I didn’t stop whispering his name.

Someone grabbed my shoulder.

“Akul.”

I barely heard them.

My mind was still locked in that space—that moment. The screaming. The blood. The sound of Bobo’s tiny body being torn at, crushed under the weight of so many hands.

The terror in his eyes.

The pain.

“Akul.”

The grip on my shoulder tightened.

I blinked.

Suddenly, the world snapped back into focus.

The walls of the nursing center. The faint, sterile scent of medicine and herbs. The cool air brushing against my skin, so different from the stifling heat of the enclosure.

A presence beside me.

My mother.

She knelt down, her warm hands firm against my arms, grounding me.

“He’s going to be okay.”

I barely registered the words.

Couldn’t.

Bobo was still in my arms.

Still too still.

Still too—

“Here, let me take him.”

A new voice.

I flinched when someone reached for him, instinct screaming at me not to let go.

But my father’s voice cut through.

“Akul.”

I looked up.

A nurse stood before me, calm, composed. She wasn’t panicked. She wasn’t rushing.

Because she wasn’t afraid.

Because she knew what she was doing.

She smiled gently. “I promise, we’ll take care of him.”

I hesitated.

Still, I held him tighter.

The nurse reached out, pressing a glowing hand over Bobo’s small, battered body.

A soft, soothing light spread from her palm, flowing into him, wrapping around him like a warm embrace.

I felt his breathing even out.

Felt his trembling slow.

My heart lurched.

The nurse hummed softly, her expression one of quiet focus. “His injuries look bad, but… he’s already healing.”

I stiffened. “What?”

She glanced at me, intrigued. “He came in like this?”

I nodded, my throat tight.

She exhaled in mild astonishment, scanning him with her glowing hands. “His body… it was already working to repair itself before I even started treatment.”

She looked up, eyes sharp with recognition. “That wasn’t normal healing. You did something, didn’t you?”

I swallowed.

“…Vital Surge.”

Her lips parted slightly.

"Your skill ?"

"Yes."

"Healing skill?"

I nodded again. "Yes."

Then she nodded. “That explains it.”

The glow of her healing magic pulsed again, and I watched as the bruises on Bobo’s body began to fade.

Not instantly.

Not all at once.

But faster than they should have.

“His bones are intact,” she murmured. “Some deep bruising, some torn muscle, but nothing permanent. He’ll be weak for a few days, but with this level of natural regeneration, he’ll make a full recovery.”

A breath I hadn’t realized I was holding rushed out of me.

I didn’t even care that I staggered.

My mother caught me instantly.

My father exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. “Thank the heavens.”

Lina, who had been standing in the doorway, suddenly burst forward—tiny arms wrapping around my leg.

“Is Bobo gonna be okay?” she asked, voice small.

The nurse smiled at her.

“Yes, sweetheart. He’ll be just fine.”

Lina let out a breath of relief.

And just like that—

The weight on my chest eased.

The nurse gave me a reassuring nod. “You did well, Akul.”

I blinked at her.

She smiled knowingly. “Whatever you did… it made all the difference.”

I didn’t respond.

I couldn’t.

Because even though Bobo was safe—

Even though the worst had passed—

The image of him being attacked, beaten, thrown still burned in my mind.

This wasn’t something I would forget.

This wasn’t something I would just let go.