"Teacher…?" A confused voice called out. Jean, standing at the other end of the room, stared wide-eyed at the intruder.

"Boy! You know who this is?!" The sentinel's voice was a harsh bark, his attention snapping to Jean.

"He-He is our—" Jean's mumbling response was cut short as dozens of water spears materialized out of thin air and hurtled toward him with deadly precision. "Curse it!"

Jean cried out, pulling Anne behind him, shielding her from the attack.

As the water spears barreled forward, everyone other then Anne began to morph. Their bodies twisted and contorted, grotesque transformations overtaking them until they stood as towering grey giants.

Their pulsating grey skin, the sickly smell of noxious breath—Claude recognized them all too well.

These… things. These monsters! Jean, too, had become one of them.

The barrage of spears struck the giants, piercing their flesh, but their twisted forms healed quickly, the water leaving only superficial wounds. Worse, they began to replicate, creating more of the hideous creatures.

But Claude? He paid no heed.

His eyes gleamed with a manic light as the puddles of water formed by his attack scattered and thickened into a dense, enveloping mist.

"I wish you all a wonderful journey…" Claude spoke, his tone impassive, nevertheless, his eyes dripped with malice. "To hell."

Hiss!

The mist began to bubble and boil, the room filling with an unbearable heat. Screams of agony pierced the air, violent and guttural, like animals caught in a snare.

They wailed and howled, their cries rising in pitch until they broke into rasping coughs, their lungs were blistering from within.

The sound of claws scraping desperately against stone followed—panicked thrashing in a vain attempt to escape the searing pain.

Guttural cries. Wet, raspy breaths. The gurgle of choking lungs. Claude's lips curled into a grin as he watched.

He knew from experience that these creatures' internal organs were not resistant to extreme temperatures. Their twisted exteriors may heal, but their insides, would not.

Beads of sweat rolled down his brow, but Claude didn't care. There was nothing left to care about. No satisfaction, no pleasure.

Where was the victory?

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Where was the sweet release of revenge?

All he found was emptiness, a vast and hollow void, stretching endlessly within him.

The mist dissipated. Where there had once been looming giants, only distorted, crimson-streaked corpses remained. Their skin had bubbled and burst, flesh atrophied and sloughing off like melted wax.

Faces twisted into grotesque masks of agony, mouths open in silent screams. Eyes, now milky and lifeless, stared into the void, their features unrecognizable, as if melted by the heat.

Except for one.

In the centre of the room stood a single grey figure, swaying, barely able to hold itself upright. The tattered remains of clothes fused with its burnt flesh gave away its identity.

Jean.

His body quivered, trembling from the effort it took just to stand, but still, he held something in his arms. His last, desperate act of defiance.

As he collapsed, a small bundle tumbled from his grasp.

Claude froze, his breath catching in his throat.

It was Anne.

The little girl, somehow alive, crawled toward her brother's fallen form, her wide, terrified eyes locked onto his still body.

"No… no, no, no…" Her voice cracked as she shook him, tiny hands clinging to his burnt skin. "Jean, please… get up."

Claude took a step forward, his heart a conflicted knot.

"Step away," he commanded, his voice hollow.

Anne didn't move. She was trembling, but even so, she clung to Jean, her head shaking furiously. Her gesture grew firmer as Claude approached, more defiant.

Mia…

The name drifted to the surface of his mind, unbidden.

He saw her again. A seven-year-old girl with big, curious eyes, tugging at his sleeve, begging him to teach her something new. She used to follow him everywhere, laughing, full of life.

Claude clenched his fists, shaking away the memory. Mia was dead, and so was any trace of the quiet village life he had once cherished. That life was over.

Without another word, Claude summoned a hand of water and flung Anne away, sending her small frame skidding across the floor like a discarded doll.

Now, nothing stood between him and Jean.

"So, this was it…" Claude muttered, his voice low, detached. "Things like that… they don't just appear out of nowhere." His thoughts spun, a mix of anger and clarity. The horse-like monsters… Jean and people like him had invited it all, for what?

To satisfy their own desires?

So what if Jean had done it all to save his sister?

Why did that matter to him?

Claude's heart was cold, his mind colder still.

Why should he suffer for someone else's mistakes?

For their sins?

All he had ever wanted was a simple life. A small, peaceful existence surrounded by friends and family. But that was gone now, a dream as distant as the stars.

Water pooled around Claude's hand, swirling into a sharp, shimmering blade.

With a simple thrust, he plunged the blade toward Jean's motionless body.

Squelch!

But it didn't just pierce Jean.

A tiny figure, standing between them, had taken the hit.

Claude stared down, his heart stopping for a brief second. Anne… She had thrown herself in front of her brother.

The room fell into a suffocating silence. Claude's hand trembled. He stared at the impaled child, her eyes wide with shock, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth.

She fell, collapsing in a crumpled heap next to Jean, her small body limp and lifeless.

The void within Claude grew, swallowing him whole. This should have meant something. He should have felt something—sorrow, guilt, regret. Anything.

But there was nothing.

Just an endless, hollow emptiness.

Whizz!

The sound of steel slicing through the air broke the stillness. Claude barely reacted as a blade came swinging toward him, but with a flick of his wrist, a disc of water formed, deflecting the attack with ease.

"Really?" His voice was calm, unnervingly so. Whilst his mind was slow to react, his body was not, it turned to face the assailant. "You think I wouldn't notice the absence of your corpse? Right… sentinel?"