“Get the rope! I’ll hold him down.” Mannat heard, followed by frantic footsteps.

Mannat reached out to Gande with a hand and she almost lunged at him. She noticed him in time and held her hand, or the slap would have sent him right back to the bed.

“…Mannat!” That was all she said, but he could sense her fear. He didn’t stop and went past her, but she didn’t let him enter the storage room.

“No!” She screamed then held his arms and pulled him back. She tightly hugged him and Mannat instantly stopped resisting, because he could see everything that was happening inside the storage room.

Skinned pigs and Deer hung from the roof, while little butcher scrambled with his father on the floor. He was kicking and biting to free himself, but Pandit’s father kept a tight hold on him. Khargosh locked Little butcher’s arms, while Pandit was trying to tie his legs together with a rope but Little butcher wouldn’t let him.

The boy flailed on the floor like a fish out of water. The scars on his head looked extremely vicious because of his reddened face. He was strong and seemed to have boundless stamina. He was behind the cold Mannat sensed. Then suddenly, one of his legs slipped out of Pandit’s hands and struck him on the chin. Pandit simply passed out and fell to the floor unconscious.

His legs free, Little butcher tried to stand up but his father kept him on the floor.

“Get his legs!” Khargosh yelled and Mannat started fledging in Gande’s arms.

“Let me go. He needs help!” He yelled, but the woman was scared and didn’t let him go. He could hear her frantic heartbeats from his back. She might have been ‘the butcher’ of Vrindavan at some point in her life, but right then she was just a helpless mother who didn’t know how to help her son. Mannat knew she would not let him harm little butcher in any way.

Then the unexpected happened. Little butcher suddenly pushed the floor with his legs and both him and his father flew back a few feet and collided with the wall. Khargosh’s head banged against the wall and he let out a groan. His hands slackened and that was all little butcher needed to free himself. Rolling away from his father, he stood up on his feet and rushed toward the door. He was trying to escape, or so Mannat thought. The wide grin on little butcher’s face said otherwise. The boy rushed toward the two in a craze, and a cold chill took Mannat’s body.

‘He’s going to kill me,’ The thought surprised Mannat, but it seemed true.

However, it was too late.

“Stop!” Mannat cried, but Little Butcher looked out for blood. Gande was also frozen still and he didn’t even think about escaping. He had an inkling Gande wouldn’t try to escape Little Butcher, but the boy would definitely try to hurt her. Mannat didn’t want that, so he made a choice.

Mannat gritted his teeth and helplessly raised one of his hands. He aimed the palm of his hand at Little butcher and let his mana flow toward it. The skill had a preparation time of three to five seconds. The delay forced him to think, to worry, and hesitate. Mannat didn’t want to hurt the boy, but that meant getting hurt himself, and he wasn’t ready for that. The boy came at him like a storm of fangs and claws, and Mannat stopped hesitating. He shot the mana that had gathered at his palm and let it hurl toward the boy like a torrent of uncontrollable power.

Mannat saw a hand swipe inches from his face and heard a painful groan before the little butcher flew away from him.

His limbs lose, back bent and head down. Khargosh caught little butcher just in time before he struck the wall. That would have ended up tragically. Khargosh took a few steps back and couldn’t keep his feet. He fell down but didn’t release the boy. He kept Little Butcher in his arms even after falling to the floor and stared back at Mannat in caution, in vigilance, as if he was in the wild and facing a predator.

Gande released Mannat at the same time and tumbled back. She fell with a thud and Mannat remained the only one standing. He didn’t think the boy would be flung back with such intensity. Something like that had never happened before. Mannat thought he had done the unspeakable and hurriedly looked at the result of his mishap. There was no blood on the floor. Mannat didn’t see any mangled limbs either. The boy was tough. Mannat sighed in relief when he saw that Little butcher had only lost consciousness and his chest was still rising and falling.

He looked back at Gande and found her staring at the boy in Khargosh’s arms. Her mouth was open, and a scream was slowly rising out of it. The boy had stopped screaming, but Mannat could still sense the cold wafting from him.

There was silence in the shop and Mannat couldn’t help muttering out loud, “We should get him on a bed and perhaps, tie him down.”

No one said anything, neither agreed nor denied his proposal.

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“That’s enough, son.” Mannat heard and looked back. His father had followed him there and had possibly seen everything. That and the frown covering his father’s face made him numb.

Raesh first helped Gande up and took her away, then helped Khargosh take Little butcher into the workshop.

Pandit heard the commotion and slowly opened his eyes. He awoke with a groan and got confused seeing that his father and brother were missing, as was his mother. Only then did he see Mannat, calmly standing without movement, his fists clenched.

“Do you need help?” Mannat asked, causing Pandit to mumble curses under his breath.

Pandit got on his feet only to weakly stumble forward and Mannat to help him.

“I’m fine,” Pandit replied, then noticed the shaking hands that held him and asked back, “What happened?”

Mannat looked straight into his eyes and told him everything. He didn’t hold back or lied to his friend.

Pandit didn’t console him either. He heard noises from the workshop and left Mannat alone in the storage room. It was only when he reached the door did he notice that Mannat was still in the storage room. Amid the skinned carapaces hanging from the roof, Mannat appeared as just another corpse in the storage room.

“…Mannat!” Pandit called him. “Come, let’s go! What are you waiting for?”

Mannat hesitated at first, and then reluctantly followed him.

They reached the workshop and found Little Butcher lying on the corner workbench. His limbs spread eagle, they were bound to the four corners with rope. The adults stood around him.

Gande sat on a chair beside him. Eyes wide and hair disheveled, she was in shock. Khargosh was silent and staring at his son’s inhuman face. The stretched skin of Little butcher’s face was tearing at the slits. Not only that, Mannat noticed a dark chitinous growth over the nails of his fingers and toes. His jaw was growing broader and teeth were falling. Mannat was not the only one who noticed it and suffered goosebumps.

Mannat saw his father staring at him. Raesh kept the gaze for a couple of seconds before breaking it and turning toward Khargosh.

“Do you want me to wake him up?” Raesh said.

“Let him sleep!” Gande yelped. She tried to stand up, only to fall back onto the chair.

Pandit went to help her yelling, “He’ll be fine, ma. Nothing will happen to him.”

His voice grew louder with every word he spoke as if that would make his mother believe him.

Seeing that no one was making a decision, Raesh sighed and started gently slapping little butcher's face.

“Gentle,”

“Careful,”

Two voices, one young and the other mature, came at the same time. Raesh glanced at Mannat before dropping his eyes back on Little Butcher. The boy’s eyes popped open at the same time and Raesh hurriedly pulled his hand back, fearing a bite. He wasn’t keen on stop being a blacksmith, just yet.

Little Butcher calmly looked around at everyone. Firstly, he stared at Raesh who stood behind him, then at his father, and lastly at his mother who had called him. He didn’t jump out to bite anyone and seemed to have found his reason.

Pandit helped his mother to her feet. Little butcher watched her with gleaming wet eyes as they approached him.

“Are you alright? Are your hurt, boy?” Gande asked Little Butcher and tried to hold his hand, but suddenly the boy lost his calm.

Pandit saw his face deform with an intensity of the kind he had only seen in boars.

Little butcher gave a low growl and drew Gande’s attention. Like a rabid dog, white bubbly saliva foamed at his lips. He screamed and lashed at her. His voice was heavy and coarse. Thankfully, he was tied to the bench and couldn’t hurt Gande.

“Get back, ma!” Pandit pulled Gande from the arm, but she shook him off and held little butcher’s hand. The boy clawed at the back of her hand and drew blood, but she didn’t let him go. She watched him with a grim face as he tried to crunch up and bite her neck. Eventually, he gripped her hand so tight the veins of his arms swelled up with strength. Any lesser man would have cried out in pain, but Gande felt nothing.

“That’s enough,” Khargosh said. He pulled her away from little butcher despite her disagreement and took her out of the workshop. Khargosh passed Mannat at the door, but neither said a word. In the end, everyone pulled out and the workshop door was bolted shut for the time being.

Nobody left the butchery. They gathered at the shop at the front and closed the door, so the outsides couldn’t barge into their family matter. Gande took the only chair, while everyone else stood around the simple, but large wooden counter. A grave silence enveloped them.

“Who can tell me what happened in there?” Raesh asked and received silence in return.

“Is this the first time he’s acting like this?” He changed the question.

This time Pandit answered. “No… but the brother has never been so angry… and fierce. He-he didn’t look like my brother at all.” He mumbled out the last few words.

“Pandit!” Gande barked and raised her hand to slap him, but Raesh grabbed her wrist and stopped her.

“Enough,” Khargosh said calmly. “Let the boy speak,” he said, but Pandit kept his head down.

“The boy went through a trauma,” Gande said. “H-he’s overreacting and—“

“That is not trauma.” Mannat interrupted. His voice was grave and shaking. “I know you can’t sense it, but believe me when I say this… it’s not trauma.”

Pandit had goosebumps rising over his arms. He knew his friend was many things but a liar. The others might not believe him, but he had absolute confidence in him. If Mannat said it was not trauma, then that was the truth.

“What’s happening to him?” He asked and instantly regretted it.

“The miasma is changing him,” Mannat said looking at his hands. They were shivering, not from cold but fear. He feared the future. The landslide was coming. There was no running away or hiding from it. It was only a matter of time before they would have to face it.