...

Louis straightened against the headboard, every muscle tensing as an otherworldly chill swept through his bedroom. There, perched on the windowsill like a grotesque gargoyle, sat a figure silhouetted by moonlight. Its eyes pulsed an unnatural purple, rippling like disturbed water in the darkness. The creature wore what might have once been a sapient smile, twisted into something that spoke of predatory glee—an expression only beings far removed from sapiency could manage.

"GoOd EvEnInG," it resonated, its voice a discordant symphony of tones as if several beings spoke at once through damaged vocal cords. The sound made Louis's teeth ache.

Fighting to keep his voice steady, Louis slowly slid his hand beneath his pillow, fingers wrapping around familiar steel. "How are you, Klepto?"

The creature's head tilted at an impossible angle, accompanied by a sound like splintering wood. Confusion flickered across its features. "KlEpTo? WhO iS kLe..." Sudden recognition sparked in those rippling eyes, followed by a burst of manic laughter that seemed to come from everywhere at once. "ThAt'S rIgHt! It'S mE! HaHa!"

Louis nodded cautiously. Years of fencing training had tensed his muscles so he could act at a moment's notice. "So," he ventured, watching as that laughter echoed off the walls, reverberating in his ears repeatedly with a sharper and terrifying pitch at every iteration, "what brings you here?"

The question stirred memories he'd tried to bury. Klepto and the refugees had established the noble writing circle, which once seemed so important but had gradually excluded him. Their grand plans against the Guard Households amounted to nothing but youthful rebellion—or so he'd thought. He'd filed it away as a foolish endeavor best forgotten, but now his past mistakes had returned with razor-sharp teeth.

Klepto wrenched his head back into position with a sickening crack. "WeLl, WeLl, WeLl, WeLl," each word dripped with dark amusement before his mouth split into an impossibly wide grin, revealing teeth like broken glass, dripping with viscous, sickly blood. "WeLl! I wIlL bE dAmNeD, mY fRiEnD! HoW iS tHe OpErAtIoN gOiNg?"

"They cut me out of the group," Louis replied, his grip tightening on the concealed rapier. 'Damn it. I need to fight.' Frustration welled up as he realized he couldn't simply flee and call for help—not when there was a risk of being discovered as an opponent of the Leonandras. That would destroy everything, including the happiness he'd never dreamed possible until now.

Klepto's head shook violently. "No, No, No, No, No," he froze unnaturally still. "No! ThEy Didn'T!"

With inhuman grace, he dropped from the windowsill, emitting an aura fitting its appearance. His eyes resembled shattered mirrors, veins filling them out. His hands began to darken, making it easier to see pulsing red veins, almost bursting as little dots of black swam through them.

'An abomination,' Louis became entirely focused, as what was before him was an abuser of corpse gems. The souls of all those dead beings, the skills that were extracted, gradually took their place, ripping Klepto's soul away, screaming and fighting for a place—like ghosts, they were tearing him away in desperation to end their horrific imprisonment.

As he took a step, the moths fluttering around the room became frenzied, their wings beating a desperate rhythm, bugs began to run in circles, or the spider in the corner spanned anxiously a net, which pattern made no sense.

"YoU sEe," Klepto spread his arms in a mockery of welcome, "ThEy DiDn'T sToP—tHeY cOuLdN't AnYmOrE."

"I see," Louis's voice was ice. "And why is that?"

Horror bloomed as spider-like appendages erupted from Klepto's back, shredding his clothing. The obsidian limbs, appearing as if sketched out with charcoal, began filling the room like reaching shadows. His chest, transparent with more than two dozen beating hearts, as veins grazed the skin, pulsating in different rhythms, "I mAdE tHe—"

Louis didn't let him finish. Years of training crystallized into a single perfect moment as he lunged forward, [Aura] focusing to a deadly point. The rapier struck true, piercing the side of Klepto's head with enough force to rip away a third of it. No matter how minimal the damage increase would be, every somewhat useful skill he possessed channeled into that strike.

As he withdrew the blade, part of that terrible smile remained. The spider legs surged forward. "Fuck!" Louis flash-stepped backward, feeling the wind of the attack that would have ended him—crashing into the floor, breaking the wooden boards, making splinters flying everywhere.

He watched in mounting dread from his new position as dark energy knit Klepto's face back together. "NoT nIcE!"

'Of course,' Louis thought bitterly, recognizing the particular monster type, 'It had to be the regenerative type, my luck.' They compensated for weak defenses and attacks with endless tricks and impossible resilience.

Klepto snapped his broken shin back into place with casual indifference. "I hAd MuCh FeWeR pRoBlEmS wItH yOuR fRiEnDs!" He adjusted his reconstructed head with mechanical precision. "ThEy BaReLy StRuGgLeD aT aLl."

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The air grew thick with tension as Louis settled into a defensive stance, his mind racing through his arsenal of abilities while surveying the room, trying to use it to the best of his abilities. 'I'm at a disadvantage,' he frowned inwardly, not liking his position. His [Divinity Line] - [Velvet Claw Duelist] - had made him a masterful fencer. Still, its divided focus toward [Charisma] meant it excelled against thinking sapient opponents rather than monstrosities driven by madness. Each skill flickered through his consciousness like cards in a deadly deck:

[Lunge & Love] - deadly against those who fell for his charm but useless against abominations who can't be charmed. Otherwise, every damage done would be doubled.

[Polite But Deadly] - a technique for disarming opponents through manipulation, rendering them ineffective before blades even crossed. Great at dinner parties, less so against beings not keen on cake.

[Gentleman's Parry] - his signature defensive art, growing stronger with each flourish of finesse.

[Feline Footwork] - perhaps his only helpful skill now, granting him the dexterity and stealth to dart through combat like a shadow, a perfect substitute for [Flash].

Taking a calculated step sideways, Louis watched as Klepto's limbs continued their grotesque dance across the room. "YoU sEe, My DeAr LoUiS," the creature's voice rang with an unnatural charm that set Louis's teeth on edge, "I dOn'T nEeD yOu BuT oNlY yOuR bOdY, sO hOw AbOuT iT?"

A predatory grin spread across Louis's face, muscles coiling like springs. "I like my body, though."

Klepto sighed theatrically. "At LeAsT yOu DoN't BeG—"

Louis vanished, materializing before the monster with lethal intent. But those obsidian legs formed an instant shield, Klepto's smirk visible through the gaps. "NoT bA— uRgH!"

Louis jumped and bounded off the wall with balletic grace, [Feline Footwork] carrying him behind his opponent. He dropped into a crouch, rapier, finding the nexus where those spider-like appendages erupted from Klepto's back. 'Gotcha.' [Aura] ignited along his blade as he executed a devastating series of cuts, severing the monstrous limbs—and taking away his method of attack.

Victory turned to ash in his mouth as Klepto's head rotated a full one-hundred-and-eighty degrees. "NiCe StRaTeGy!" The creature's maw gaped wide, brilliant energy gathering within.

'Fuck!' Louis ducked, barely avoiding the beam, witnessing its lethal power crater the wall. "DoN't RuN! I dOn'T wAnT tO rEpAiR yOuR bEaUtIfUl BoDy!" Klepto's laughter echoed as blood poured from his shattered teeth, the room's windows vibrating in sympathy with his madness as cracks started to appear.

Louis flash-stepped to his desk, narrowly avoiding another beam as he rolled forward. While doing so, he kicked his chair into the monster's path in one fluid motion, using the explosion as cover. His mind raced, searching for options as Klepto's rotating head gave him devastating coverage of the room.

'A distraction.' Louis leaped to the wall, then to the chandelier above his bed. His rapier snagged the coverlet, throwing it before him, creating a temporary blind. As Klepto fired wildly at the falling fabric, Louis suddenly got an idea as he felt the chandelier's weight.

Louis channeled [Essence] into his feet as he swung from the chandelier, causing his body to reject the conflicting energies violently. Blood erupted from his mouth, but he ignored it—adhering himself to the ceiling while maintaining his grip on the massive light fixture. Crouched upside down, he counted the seconds between Klepto's wild shots, even as more blood trickled from his lips.

The timing had to be perfect. With a grunt of effort that sent fresh crimson spattering across the ceiling, Louis yanked the chandelier free. Crystal and metal crashed into Klepto's twisted smile with devastating force, forcing the monster to swallow its fully charged beam. The resulting explosion painted the room with darkened gore and brain matter.

The impact was catastrophic. Heavy crystal and metal crashed into Klepto's twisted smile, forcing him to swallow his fully charged beam. The resulting explosion painted the room with darkened gore and brain matter.

Louis landed ready to finish the fight, knowing the absence of a [Experience] notification meant this wasn't over. But before he could move, the bedroom door burst open.

"Louis? I heard—" Sherly's voice died in her throat as she took in the carnage. Her hand reached for her protective charm, but one of the severed spider legs moved with impossible speed.

"No!" Louis's scream came too late. The black lightning struck, and Sherly's eyes locked with his one final time, filled with desperation before the darkness took her. Klepto's ethereal laughter filled the room as Louis flash-stepped to her side, his [Aura]-enhanced blade severing the appendage from her heart. But as he caught her falling form, he knew.

With multiple steps, he appeared in the lounge, Sherly in his arms. He didn't care anymore about Klept, the school, or what punishment he would receive—all he wanted was for his true love to survive. 'No, please, no! Please let her live!'

...

Hours Later

Louis stood vigil over Sherly's body within a hollow of the enormous world tree in Wolfsteeth. She lay peacefully among her favorite flowers, their sweet scent a cruel mockery of life's absence. His fists clenched as reality crushed him anew. 'It's over.'

The weight of his mistake had stolen his only love. He knelt beside her, fingers trembling as they traced her cooling cheek. "I..." The words caught like thorns in his throat. "Love you..."

His first and last kiss touched lips that would never respond, preserved for a mating season she would never experience. "I am so sorry." The words became a mantra as he knelt there, shoulders shaking. She had been his constant, his one true ally in a life filled with shadows. "Sorry."

Her body grew colder beneath his touch as tears fell freely. Each memory struck like a physical blow: her arms around him when he cried, her gentle hands treating his injuries, the quiet moments when he felt lost and forsaken by his blood. She had been there through it all. "Please..."

But pleading was useless. Louis's mind raced through possibilities, desperate bargains he would make with any divine being—god, devil, or nature itself—who would listen. He would trade his soul for just one more year with her. But the divinity remained silent, as it always had to his prayers.

"Are you done?"

Louis whirled, killing intent radiating from every pore, only to find Alexander leaning against the doorframe. "Yeah, figures." The boy's voice carried an odd mixture of ice and sympathy.

Rising slowly, Louis bowed. "Mr—"

"Let's cut to the chase," Alexander interrupted, his presence filling the sacred space. "What happened?"

Louis's gaze drifted back to Sherly before meeting Alexander's eyes, resolved to burn away his tears. "I want vengeance."

Alexander raised an eyebrow, an arrogant smirk emerging on his face—the expression of someone who could make dreams or nightmares real. "On whom?"

"Klepto."