The rain poured relentlessly, with each drop adding a sad note to the evening's symphony. The wind howled through the trees, echoing a requiem and reminding everyone of nature's untamed power. Amidst the downpour, a figure lay motionless, the once-vibrant life now extinguished. The heavens wept, their tears mingling with the puddles that formed around the silent form.

Gracillia's heart ached as she watched Arin's brave but ultimately unsuccessful attack on Malgrave. Surprise flashed across her face, quickly replaced by a surge of desperation. She strained against her own battered body, willing it to move, to protect—to do anything but lie there helplessly. Unbidden tears streamed from her eyes, a silent testament to her anguish.

No, my child, Gracillia thought with pleading eyes.

Each drop mirrored the rain, blurring her vision as she watched the blood seep from Arin's face. Powerless, she lay there, her spirit crying out in silent fury, her only hope resting on the faint whisper of strength returning to her limbs. Her mind raced, thoughts tumbling over each other as she struggled to reconcile her helplessness with her fierce instinct to protect.

"I would love to know why a beast kept a man-child with her, not that I need to know," Malgrave remarked, his voice dripping with disdain. He showed a disinterested look as he shrugged his shoulders. With a mocking gaze, he continued toward Gracillia, "I did not even need to move my hand to defeat you. Are all lord beasts this weak? Let’s just finish this."

Gracillia tried to move her body slightly, thinking that if she were in her best condition, she would have finished both of them in a few seconds. The pain of her wounds, however, anchored her to the ground. She gritted her teeth, feeling the sharp sting of her injuries with every attempt to rise.

I will kill you, she thought while trying to stand.

"You still have the power to move? Let me fix that for you," Malgrave said with an amused face, pulling out a small, wickedly sharp knife from his pocket. The blade glinted menacingly in the dim light.

Just as he started moving toward Gracillia to end her life, a growl echoed from the cave as all the bear cubs emerged, their small forms bristling with defiance. Gracillia's heart swelled with both pride and fear for the cubs.

"No," Gracillia growled at Malgrave, her face filled with guilt.

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"Hahaha," Malgrave laughed maniacally, his face twisted with excitement. "There are still others? Then I should start by first slicing them."

Arin, who lay motionless on the ground, suddenly stirred at the sound of the bears. His eyes fluttered open, revealing an eerie green glow that consumed his irises, dilating his pupils. Arin's thoughts blurred together as he struggled to comprehend the scene before him. I have to protect them... I can't let them suffer because of me, he thought as his body started glowing. I will save them.

A figure began to form behind Arin, a red, ethereal silhouette larger than Gracillia herself. Slowly, it took the form of a fairy, her luminous presence visible through the rain. The figure started glowing, and suddenly she opened her eyes. Everything around them ignited, the flames defying the pouring rain, casting an otherworldly light that brightened the whole area.

Seeing the rays of light emerging from the forest, Howler started behaving oddly, retreating into Malgrave's shadow. Malgrave turned, his eyes widening as the light transformed into fire, surrounding him and leaving no place for a shadow to hide. Howler emerged, his fur aflame, screeching in agony. Malgrave kicked Howler away to save himself from the fire. Howler's body burned completely, leaving nothing behind but ashes.

Malgrave fell to his knees, shivering from the backlash of losing his summon and the remnants of darkness inside him being burned away. The pain he felt was unlike anything he had ever experienced, a searing agony that tore through his very soul.

"What are you... I will make sure to kill you," Malgrave stuttered, terror etched on his face, unable to even move his body.

The fire surrounding the forest was extinguished without burning a single thing. Gracillia, summoning the last reserves of her strength, managed to move her body. She stood and walked to Malgrave's body. Seeing him still breathing, she smashed his head without hesitation, blood and matter splattering around. This is for Arin, she thought, a grim satisfaction mingling with her sorrow.

Gracillia then moved to Arin, her heart breaking at the sight. His condition was dire—blood seeped from his ears and mouth, burn marks marred his skin, and a strange tattoo had appeared on his chest. His breathing was very slow, almost as if his life was hanging by a thread.

Suddenly, the fairy's gift, a radiant aura that had coursed through his veins, now pulsed with a sinister glow. With each life he took, the blessing's light dimmed, replaced by a creeping shadow threatening to consume him.

Arin's breaths grew shallow, his once vibrant eyes now dulled. Is this the end? he wondered, feeling the magic that had been his salvation turning into his doom. He could feel his life force ebbing away, a price paid for wielding the fairy's power with such deadly intent.

The air around him crackled with dark energy, a stark reminder of the fine line between a blessing and a curse. Arin's thoughts turned to Gracillia and the motherly love she had shown him as he staggered through the battlefield. The darkness shrouded his heart. With each step, his strength waned. His eyes changed color to dark black with a light shadow of white and red. I need to find a way to reverse this curse... I can't leave her alone.

Gracillia's instincts screamed for her to step forward, to shield Arin from the unknown force emanating from him. Yet, she retreated, her paws stepping back as the earth beneath Arin betrayed its nature. Where life once thrived, now only a blackened void spread, cracks webbing out like dark veins within a meter's radius.

Her eyes, wide with a mix of fear and concern, locked onto Arin's. His gaze was a tumultuous sea of desperation, a silent plea for help as he fought an internal battle for control. A sudden gust, as if answering his unspoken call, nudged Arin's body. He swayed, a lone reed against the storm's breath, before collapsing. The ground cratered upon his fall, a testament to the unnatural weight of his presence.

As he fell, Arin's eyes returned to their normal color. He uttered a few words before losing consciousness: "Mama, it pains."