Tanya could not look away from the egg before her, despite the gibberish that echoed in her surroundings. There was something far more important about it than anything else around her. It pulsed with a presence, a rhythm, like a silent voice calling her to it. And so, she responded, step by step, her body drawn forward with a sense of inevitability. The closer she got, the stronger the pull became, until she found herself standing right in front of the large red and black sphere.

Almost without thinking, she leaned her ear against it.

Thump. Thump.

The pulse was powerful, steady. Tanya felt a strange, almost unconscious smile spread across her face before she could stop herself. It wasn't her own reaction, but something deep, something instinctual. She tried to suppress it, catching herself, though the joy she felt from that heartbeat was raw and real. Her instincts had kicked in, running her body on autopilot.

But the truth was unavoidable—there was a connection between her and this egg. She had remembered from her biology classes in university that when it came to eggs, if she was an avian race like she assumed, then pigments could be distributed in the oviduct leading to different egg colors from the same mother. That being said when it came to chickens in particular usually the breed decided the color of the egg. Though colors could be mixed if there was inter-species crossbreeding. But her connection to this egg was not so simple, so while their colors were not the same she could expect there to be some level of relation between them. The connection between her and this egg simply felt too real to ignore.

Despite this, she tried to remind herself that these emotions weren't hers . She was no longer purely Tanya von Degurechaff. She was something else now, something that had changed on a fundamental level. But that was not something she wanted to think about , not yet. She had to focus on the situation at hand.

Turning her attention to the wolf-like humanoids surrounding her, she noticed they were pumping their fists into the air, chanting something in their strange, guttural language. She didn't understand a word. Their language was all sharp sounds and low growls, fitting for a race of their appearance—feral, primal beings. Yet even more distracting than their incomprehensible speech was the strange feeling stirring within her as she looked at them.

Her jaws creaked as her teeth clenched together. They donned her face in a mask of ferocity that was unfamiliar to her. Somewhere in the back of her mind, in the very blood roiling in her body and pulsing in her veins, something screamed.

KILL. KILL AND EAT THE STRONG.

It was overwhelming—the hunger, the desire to consume, to feast on the strength of others. Her body ached for it, urging her to take action. It was as if another being, deep within her, was trying to take control. It was strange to have such overwhelming almost speaking instincts that were so distinct from your conscious mind. The sensation of having the two battle it out was bizarre, even for someone like her, who had faced strange and terrifying things in her two lives.

This new body, this new form—it crowded power, and it screamed for blood.

She could sense the truth of it too. These beings were strong, and her body yearned to consume them, to take their power and make it her own. But she wasn't foolish. Even exhausted from their recent battle, these villagers wielded abilities far beyond anything she had encountered in her past life. This body was strong, but it was also newborn. She could not stand up to the might of a combined village. And the thing about civilizations was they never fought alone, she would be overwhelmed even if she killed everyone here, if she was even capable of such a feat. So as much as her instincts urged her to strike, she understood the consequences. She couldn't overpower a village, not yet, and even if she could somehow succeed in slaughtering them.

She wasn't some mindless beast. She wasn't a mass murderer. Well no that was a lie. But she had never murdered en masse for that sort of reason.

Her gaze drifted back to the egg behind her. The thought of leaving to deal with these urges crossed her mind. And suddenly, a white-hot pain seared through her skull, as if a magic-infused bullet had torn through her brain. A feeling she actually knew. She grimaced, biting down a curse. Ah, yes—leaving the egg was simply not an option. Her instincts, primal and powerful as they were, would not allow it. If holding back from killing the villagers would be a struggle, then abandoning the egg would surely tear her apart. She could feel the inherent wrongness of the very thought, the deep-rooted need to protect it. She shook her head wearily, well that was simply that.

Tanya then clicked her tongue, frustration building within her. What a troublesome situation this was.

She sighed, clearing her throat, and testing her voice. Despite her youth her tongue while differently shaped compared to her life as a human–she could literally feel she could make it barbed with a flex–had more than enough in common with her human one to speak with. She cleared her throat. Yes, speaking would be no issue at all, and that was a problem. It was hard to remain silent in emotionally charged situations, even for someone as composed as she was. And if she spoke , they would realize she was intelligent. They wouldn't understand the words she spoke, but the mere fact that she could speak would reveal far more than she wanted.

Tanya had no idea how these creatures would react to discovering a newborn who could not only run through desiccated blood-controlling monsters with ease but could speak an unknown language as well. Maybe the children of this world were born with such innate power, or maybe her form was special. Whatever the case, it would be safer to avoid speaking for now. She'd need to come up with an explanation if she slipped, but for now, her best bet was to remain silent and hope to learn their language quickly. If she did so she wouldn't be caught period.

As the villagers calmed themselves from their chanting, she scanned the crowd, searching for anyone who looked similar to her in form. Her head twisted around, observing the wolf-like humanoids with their various ear colors—tawny brown, silver like her wings, gold like her hair, and even dark black. Yet none of them had wings.

The only exception was the goat-like man—pitch-black skin, six fingers on each hand, and red eyes. He stood apart from the others, watching her with a wry smile. Despite his calm demeanor, there was a nervous glint in his eyes, one that was quickly masked when a gigantic wolf-humanoid—easily over eight feet tall—approached him, pointing in Tanya's direction.

The goat-man's smile faded slightly as the two began to talk, their conversation growing more intense, with occasional glances thrown her way.

Yes, this was going to be interesting.

____________________________

Midea watched the child of Lervea—now named Surya—with an interested grin, though the expression was more to mask his anxiety than anything else. He hadn't expected the egg to hatch, not yet, not for while it was in his possession . And now? Oh, ever sinful Lord Satan who slaughtered a thousand lambs, what was he supposed to do? He was no expert in raising a child. What if he taught her the wrong thing and Lervea decided to turn him into fucking goat stew ? He was cooked, fried, might as well kill himself and feed himself to Lervea already.

The more he thought about it, the more the weight of the situation settled on his shoulders. After all, he was barely more than a child himself, an imp in the hierarchy of demons. He wasn't prepared for any of this. He had heard what happened to those who displeased Tyrannius—being erased, soul and all, with no chance of revival. Yeah, he definitely didn't want that. The suddenness of it all had him on edge, like at the actual point of the knife, but he tried to keep his composure, watching Surya with a mix of curiosity and fear.

He tried to keep his expression neutral, watching as Surya placed her ear against the other egg. Her small face lit up with a smile, amethyst eyes sparkling like stars as she listened to the pulse of life within. The life of yet another little monster who may hatch at any moment. So while the sight was oddly cute, it did nothing to soothe his nerves. In fact, it made everything worse. The more he thought about it, the more he realized just how unprepared he was for this responsibility .

It was a bit curious though, did she know? Know that the other egg was her sibling that is? And despite her apparent innocence, there was something unnerving about her. Those amethyst eyes of hers held a light of experience—an intensity he had only seen in seasoned warriors. Could it be that her mind was already developed? It wasn't impossible. He'd heard of races like the dragons from the Deluvian planes, who passed down knowledge and abilities genetically, creating a sort of ancestral library in their offspring. He knew nothing of the Tyrannius, so who was to say they didn't have something similar?

The headache brewing in his skull intensified. He couldn't rest, not yet. While no one else had noticed, Midea had seen the way Surya's jaws had clenched, her teeth grinding together as if trying to contain some deeper emotion. There was something dangerous simmering beneath the surface, and it worried him.

That raw, bloodthirsty aura—he recognized it immediately. Surya might still be a child, but he could feel the lethal intent radiating from her. Though he was confident he could defeat her if necessary, the problem was that he couldn't afford to harm her. That was a line he dared not cross.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Chief Remus approaching. The leader of the Great Canid clan was massive, even for a member of his race, easily towering over everyone else. His excitement was palpable as he approached him. Oh, wonderful .

The massive wolf-like man gestured toward the baby Tyrannius, his voice booming with excitement. "A mythical beast! You truly weren't lying. What kind of child, who has yet to begin cultivation, can run THROUGH a cultivator of the first layer? Is she one of your kind?"

"No, Chief Remus, she is not," Midea replied smoothly, having covered up his previous nervousness. "But she is important—important enough that I will protect her with my life. I hope you'll help me do so, as our agreement stated." His voice held a subtle edge, probing for Remus's commitment.

The chief let out a throaty laugh that shook the air around them. It was the type of laugh only a man of his sheer stature could give. "HAHA! Of course, of course! Look at them," he waved toward the crowd, "they've already accepted her and named the girl! She's a child of the suns. She is special."

"From today forward, let us call the girl Surya!" Remus roared, his voice booming across the village.

'RAAAHHHH!' The villagers responded in kind, their collective cheer shaking the trees with the force of their voices. Surya flinched slightly at the noise, but quickly steadied herself, her expression neutral.

Midea shook his head slightly. "That's good to hear, Chief Remus, but I have to ask—are these Vampyr attacks a common occurrence?"

Remus's laughter died down, his expression darkening as he glanced at Midea. "They've become more frequent recently," he said, his voice quieter now. "The accursed races have been almost targeting us, as if they were sending their forces to whittle down our numbers. I don't know why, but it feels like a coordinated effort. I will do whatever it takes to protect my people, even if it means forming alliances I wouldn't have considered before. I am no simple fool ruled by power or ambition. If I need power then I will take it."

Midea's interest was piqued. So the chief wasn't just some power-hungry leader; he was a man willing to gamble everything for the sake of his people. His words also carried a subtle warning—if Midea had been lying about his promises of power, there would be consequences. He was willing to risk letting him into his village with two supposed mythical beast eggs for power in order to save his people. He could see his intent.

And he could respect it. After all, pride was the very nature of demons like himself, born from the Circle of Pride. Remus wasn't naive, and Midea could appreciate the chief's willingness to walk the fine line between cooperation and caution. He also recognized the threat—if Midea failed or betrayed him, Remus was likely planning to use him and the eggs as a bargaining chip in a larger conflict. Or simply attack him or the eggs while he was in combat with the Vampyrs. The Vampyrs were indiscriminate the clan was not. But while he could respect the man's will, he had a will of his own.

"Of course, it's natural to be wary, Chief Remus," Midea said smoothly, snapping his fingers. In an instant, an inky blackness spread from the pens, enveloping the area in shadows. The villagers jumped back, startled, and Surya flapped her wings, hovering above the ground to avoid the encroaching darkness.

Remus's eyes widened in shock, his voice rising in anger. "What is this, Midea?"

Midea allowed a serpentine smile to spread across his face as the darkness receded back into the pens. "Just a precaution, Chief. I am no fool either. It's always best to be prepared." The darkness was his own art, linking the area to the cave he had set up earlier. With just a few words, he could transfer the eggs—and himself—back there in an instant.

Remus exhaled sharply, his frustration evident before he masked it with another laugh. "I see." His tone was calmer now, but there was a lingering tension between them.

"Worry not," Midea added, his voice more diplomatic. "I will teach you the wards and breathing techniques I promised. But in return, I'd like to hear more about these attacks—and about the accursed races you mentioned."

"For now, though, I have a baby monster to deal with," Midea said, his gaze shifting to Surya.

As he walked toward the pens, the child of Lervea descended from the air, before doing so she looked at him then at the sky, and with a sigh that was everything but vocal she returned to the ground landing gracefully by the second egg. She looked at Midea with curiosity, her gaze devoid of fear. There was only expectation in her eyes, a quiet assessment that unnerved him more than it should have. Damn! Why did she feel more mature than he was?

Just then, Garran, the son of Remus and the general of the clan, approached with a fresh flick bandage on his waist. A red-eared girl was by his side, her tailing excitedly as she walked with him. The two warriors glanced at Surya, then at Midea.

"She's probably scared of you," Garran said with a hint of distrust. "That darkness was your doing, right?"

Before Midea could respond, the red-eared girl slapped Garran's wound.

"Arrgh! What the hell, Hati?"

Hati wrinkled her nose at him. "Weren't you the one grateful for having fewer lives lost today? Not to mention, you're arguing in front of a child! Apologize!"

"...This is why you're still single." The wolf girl put up a threatening hand while Garran flinched.

Garran sighed in defeat. "Alright, alright. I'm sorry." He nodded toward Midea, begrudgingly.

Hati's face lit up with a wide grin. She reached behind her and pulled out a flask, bending down to Surya's level. "Rannhorn milk," she said, uncorking the flask. "It's a delicacy, and it's good for newborns. This one here, with the stick up his bum," she pointed a thumb at Garran, "thought of it."

She grinned up at him. He couldn't help but let out a chuckle while Garran rolled his eyes. He was surprised at the girl. Most of the women from his observations held more domestic roles and wore conservative clothing and had longer hair. But she had short fiery untamed hair. A battle scar that split her left brow and wore no clothing on her midriff like many of the shirtless male warriors. Though she obviously covered her chest. Garran flicked her on the top of the head which made her look at him with an annoyed glare. He responded in kind.

Midea turned his head away from the pair instead watching in amusement as Surya's eyes widened at the scent of the milk. She cautiously took the flask, sniffed it, and then, with a look of pure ecstasy, began to drink greedily. Hati took the opportunity to pounce, wrapping her arms around the child in a playful hug.

"Aww, your wings are so soft," she cooed, nuzzling her face into Surya's neck.

"HATI!" Garran shouted, his voice filled with panic. "You can't just—"

"What?" Hati interrupted her tone light and teasing. "She's already part of the clan! We named her and everything. Plus, look at her—she's adorable."

Midea watched the scene unfold with amusement. Despite being a newborn, Surya seemed entirely unbothered by the attention. She continued drinking from the flask, her expression one of pure satisfaction. When she finished, she looked up at Hati expectantly, as if waiting for more.

"Isn't she just the cutest?" Hati said with a grin, producing another flask and handing it to Surya.

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Midea shook his head. "You're not afraid of her?" he asked, genuinely curious.

Hati looked at him like he'd just said something ridiculous. "Afraid? Of what? I'm the moon-devouring wolf. Why would I be afraid of a child?"

Midea raised an eyebrow. "Moon-devouring wolf?"

He was pretty sure she was just on the first layer, however. To his estimation only at the 8th shackle as well. Eating a moon, such a feat was reserved for those at the late 5th layer. She couldn't possibly achieve such a thing.

Garran sighed deeply. "She's not well. She changed her name to Hati, based on a myth of a wolf that devours the moon in our culture. It's… ambitious. And kinda fucking honestly stupid."

"It represents my goals!" Hati declared proudly, her grin as wide as ever.

Garran rubbed his temples in exasperation. "Please, ignore this brat."

Midea couldn't help but chuckle. "Ambitious indeed."

Garran rubbed his temples, clearly exhausted by the entire ordeal. "Let's have tonight's celebration here," he said, directing his words toward Midea. "It's unlikely she'll want to leave the egg, right?"

Midea nodded, his gaze drifting back to Surya. "Yes, I believe she'll stay close to the egg for now."

He crouched down to meet her at eye level, an awkward task given his goat-like body structure. "Nice to meet you, child of Lervea. I am Midea Scelus, your guardian in this world."

Surya looked into his eyes, her gaze piercing and intense. Then, with deliberate slowness, she reached out and grabbed his hand.

Surya met his gaze with those piercing amethyst eyes. Then, with a deliberate motion, she reached out and grasped his hand.

In that moment, Midea felt it—a bond forming between them, something deeper than words or promises. It was a contract, unspoken but absolute.

A bond that would not be broken.

________________________

Garran shook his head with exhaustion as he stepped into the ceremonial hall. The weight of the night's battle still lingered, his body aching with every step, though he wouldn't admit it to anyone. Not after what had happened. Midea had been useful —annoying, but useful—especially with that eerie darkness he had summoned. Garran wasn't sure if he trusted the Dark Satyr, but the fact that fewer of his warriors had died was undeniable. And for that, Hati had convinced him to offer the Rannhorn milk. Not that he would've come up with the idea himself.

Oh, Hati. She was his childhood friend. Originally her name was Amara but she decided to change it as she felt it wasn't grand enough for her. She was atypical, to say the least. Unlike the other girls, she insisted on going against tradition and fighting in battle. She was pushy and often downright annoying. She was also somewhat stupid. But even then he couldn't help himself worrying about her. If only so that she wouldn't get herself killed on the battlefield. In a way, he felt guilty. Their village was somewhat patriarchal the only reason she was somewhat allowed to act as she pleased was because her dad was a great warrior under his father who died saving his life. That and she was his own childhood friend. While he did like the traditions of the village somewhat he would change them when he became chief. He was not so blind as to think all women were the same. And he was not so cruel to restrict his friend as such.

He sighed shooing the thoughts, before making his way toward the back of the hall where the celebration supplies were stored. He grumbled as he began rifling through a pile of assorted materials, pulling out what he needed for the night's feast. As he pulled one too many items from the top of the pile, the entire thing came crashing down on him in a loud, echoing clatter.

"Shhh crkkk!"

"Oh, great Fenrir, help me..." Garran groaned under the weight of the supplies, the world momentarily spinning from the force of the fall.

Before he could even attempt to push the load off, a dark curtain of hair surrounded his vision. He blinked, looking up through the mass of fallen items to see a familiar face staring down at him with a soft smile. Her black hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing her delicate features. Unlike most of the women in the village, her skin was a pale milky white, which often made her stand out among the more tanned populace. But it wasn't just her complexion that drew eyes—it was her features. Her heart-shaped face held an elegance that was rare, her button nose perfectly centered, her cheeks lightly flushed with a hint of red that contrasted beautifully with her pale skin. Her long lashes cast faint shadows over her striking blue eyes, as bright and deep as the fifth sun. Her lips, a reddish-pink hue, curved into a knowing smile as her black ears twitched slightly in his direction.

It was Lain.

"You just gonna keep laying there, oh great general?" she asked, tilting her head, amusement evident in her voice.

Garran scrambled to his feet, almost knocking his head into hers in his haste. He kicked aside the pile of fallen materials, sending them clattering again, his face flushing in embarrassment.

"HAH HAH! Ahem. Yes, yes, I was just doing some... uh... weight training, you know, trying to lift things. Gotta train the muscles, right?" He raised his arms, flexing his impressive physique . His muscles bulged beneath his skin, a testament to his warrior training, and to his heritage as his father's son. His old man was the biggest dude in the village after all. Unfortunately for him, the act of flexing tore the wound at his side, causing blood to see through the freshly applied bandages.

Lain's smile widened knowingly as she watched him, clearly seeing through his bluff. "Yes, yes, of course. Training, right." Her voice was laced with amusement. "Now, let's get you patched up, hmm?" Without waiting for a response, she reached behind her long, flowing dress, pulling out a fresh set of bandages. The dress despite its size could not hide the curve of her chest he noted embarrassingly enough.

Garran, caught off guard by her sudden kindness, began unraveling the makeshift bandages Hati had wrapped around him earlier. He dropped them to the floor with a slight grunt of discomfort, failing to notice the little detail Hati had added—a crude drawing of a wolf devouring a moon at the end of the bandages, now soaked in blood.

Under the moonlight that filtered through the ceremonial hall's high windows, Lain worked quietly, her hands gentle yet precise as she wrapped the fresh bandages around Garran's waist. Her fingers brushed against his skin, and though the touch was clinical, Garran couldn't help but feel his heart skip a beat. She hummed softly as she worked, her voice as light and soothing as a breeze, and Garran found himself lost in the rhythm of her movements.

"Thank you," Lain said suddenly, her voice breaking the quiet.

Garran blinked, looking down at her in confusion. "What for?"

Lain paused for a moment, her fingers stilling as she finished tying the bandage. She glanced up at him, her blue eyes meeting him with a warm, gentle smile. "For protecting the village, of course. You were brave out there, fighting the Vampyrs and keeping us safe."

"Oh!" Garran felt a rush of pride swell in his chest. "Of course! It's my duty, after all. As general, it's what I'm meant to do. Bashing vamps and the like." He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, trying not to let his grin spread too wide. He wasn't used to praise, not like this. It was mostly adult men–or Hati–slapping his back harshly with yelled congrats.

Lain's smile deepened, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "No, I meant thank you for falling over and ripping your wounds open while trying to flex your muscles."

Garran's face turned beet red. "HEY! I told you, I didn't fall over! The flexing was an accident!" He stammered, his words coming out jumbled as he tried to defend himself.

"Hoh? So you admit you were flexing?" Lain's teasing voice sent another wave of embarrassment crashing over him, and Garran felt his heart pound in his chest, more from the embarrassment than the pain.

"W-wait! No, that's not what I—uh—" Garran fumbled for a response, but Lain's melodic laughter interrupted him, her laugh like the soft chime of bells in the cool night air.

Her laughter echoed in the stillness of the hall, mingling with the soft glow of the moons. Garran found himself unable to distinguish her laughter from the rhythmic beating of his own heart. She seemed so effortless, so graceful, and in that moment, under the moonlight, with her laughter filling the air, Garran was acutely aware of just how much she stood out from the others. How different she was from a warrior girl like Hati, and how her presence seemed to stir something deeper in him.

For a moment, Garran didn't respond. He simply stood there, watching Lain as she finished bandaging him up, the scent of the fresh herbs in the bandages mixing with the cool night air.

________________________________________

Tanya had learned many things about herself in the past few hours, though some discoveries were more startling than others. The strangest revelation thus far was that she could fly. Not just the propulsion-enhanced flight she had once achieved with magic in her former life , but true, organic flight. Her wings flapped naturally, instinctively, lifting her effortlessly into the air. The sensation was strange, yet it gave her a sense of freedom and power—one she hadn't expected to feel so soon after being reborn . It was one small comfort amidst the confusing and overwhelming situation she now found herself in. Despite everything, flight felt like a piece of control she could hold onto.

However, that was the least of her problems. The presence of the other egg continued to weigh heavily on her mind. Even if she wanted to leave, she couldn't. Her instincts screamed at her not to abandon it. This egg, this being, was tied to her in some way—perhaps a sibling or another member of her race, something more significant than the mere desire to nurture it. Whatever it was, leaving it was simply not an option.

The goat-man, who had earlier displayed his impressive power by blowing up the monsters maniacally in battle began to approach her. From what she had observed he had been the one to cast the field of darkness as well. Tanya had already pegged him as a suspicious and slimy figure, the type she had dealt with many times before in her previous life. But there was something about him, a certain nervousness in his eyes whenever he glanced at her, that made her feel less afraid of him. Despite his show of power, there was a vulnerability there—a fear he couldn't quite mask. Or at least he couldn't mask before it was hard to see now. Even so, she could tell he was treading carefully around her. Whether it was because he feared her or because of his knowledge of her true nature she was unsure.

It didn't take long for more figures to approach. One was a tall, well-built wolf-man with short brown hair, sharp emerald eyes, and a square jaw. His muscular frame suggested a life of battle, though he carried himself with a calm and steady presence. The second figure was a stark contrast—a fiery-haired woman with a scar across her brow and eyes that practically gleamed with energy. Her burnt orange gaze, framed by thick eyebrows, was full of life and confidence . She was smaller than the wolf-man, but her toned physique and the ever-present grin on her face gave her a heroic and somewhat mischievous look.

The two of them engaged in playful banter, though Tanya couldn't understand the words exchanged. She was, however, beginning to recognize certain sounds they made when referring to her. A specific word or sound was thrown around often enough that Tanya started to suspect it was her name—or at least, the name they had given her.

The red-haired woman—the one who had been glacing at her with excitement—pulled out a flask and uncapped it. Immediately, an intoxicating smell hit Tanya's senses. She had never smelled anything so good in either of her lives. Her body responded immediately, her instincts urged her to accept whatever it was. Still cautious, she took the flask from the woman, giving it a few tentative sniffs before taking a sip. The liquid inside was heavenly, warming her body from the inside out, and she couldn't stop herself from greedily downing the rest.

Just as she finished, Tanya felt the weight of the woman's body against her. The redhead had taken the opportunity to glomp her, wrapping her arms around Tanya and burying her face in her neck. It was a strange sensation, especially considering she was still naked. Though Tanya preferred not to be manhandled, she had to remind that she was currently a baby. These people were, in some form, her caretakers, and she needed to play the role of an infant—at least for now. If that meant letting them hug her and coo over her, she would endure it.

Still, the red-haired woman's overly affectionate nuzzling was a bit bothersome, especially since it seemed to amuse the others.

The goat-man crouched down to her level, offering his hand while speaking in that strange, guttural language. His voice was soft, almost as if he was making a promise or oath. Though Tanya couldn't understand the words, she understood the intention behind them. The thing about people, especially when they thought they were making deals with innocent beings, was that they tended to keep their promises. There was something in the human psyche–or perhaps it should be labeled non-human psyche here– that tilted toward honesty when swearing to children or beings perceived as pure. Tanya decided to take advantage of this. She reached out and touched his hand, her small fingers gripping his larger, clawed ones.

The Goat man's eyes widened, clearly not expecting the gesture. He hesitated for a moment, then a wry smile spread across his face, as though he realized he had been cornered into some sort of responsibility. Whether he wanted it or not, he was now bound to her—at least in some capacity.

The night continued, with the wolf-man leaving briefly before returning with a beautiful woman who had long black hair. Together, they and the villagers began setting up for a celebration. They built a fire pit in the center of the former battlefield, stacking wood in an octagonal formation and filling the middle with dry leaves. The goat-man casually flicked his hand, and the wood burst into flames. Civilians, who had gone off to hunt, returned with massive, skinned beasts that they began roasting over the fire. The smell of the cooking meat filled the air, tantalizing Tanya's senses. Her body rumbled with hunger, but she held back for now, observing everything around her.

The red-haired woman, who had been bothering her earlier, now seemed visibly annoyed as she watched the wolf-man, who was gallivanting around with the black-haired woman. Tanya noticed how focused the redhead was on the wolf-man's wound, particularly the fresh bandages he had recently applied. The jealousy or frustration was clear on her face, though she didn't seem inclined to act on it—at least not yet.

Tanya's attention drifted away from the petty drama, and she began focusing inward. She needed to understand her new physiology if she was going to survive and thrive in this world. For starters, there was her tongue. It was much longer than a human tongue and almost prehensile, like a monkey's tail. With a slight flex of the muscles, she realized she could also make it barbed, a feature she would need to explore further. Then there were the marks just beneath her eyes. The red-haired woman had traced them earlier, but they weren't just decorative markings. Tanya knew instinctively that they were a second pair of eyes—though for now, they were dormant. When she tried to open them, nothing happened. They felt like skin, rougher than the rest of her face, but she was certain these were eyes waiting to awaken. It was strange however she could feel no eyeball under them. Nor any eyelashes where the markings were despite the fact they shared the color of her hair. Her new body seemed to be a bit magical, but that was to be expected she supposed.

Her wings were another marvel. Like her tongue, they could be hardened with a simple thought, becoming as tough as steel. It wasn't just for flight—they were weapons, a shield, and a tool for survival.

But the most interesting part of her new body was its ability to absorb energy. From the moment she entered this seven-sunned world, she could feel a constant, ambient energy flowing through everything around her. Her body seemed to drink it in naturally, constantly filling her with a pleasant soreness, like muscles after a workout. Yet as soon as the energy entered her body, it vanished—consumed by something within her. Whether this was unique to her or part of the natural order of this world, she didn't know yet. But it was something to be explored.

For now, though, she focused on her surroundings. The red-haired woman had stopped pestering her and was instead staring daggers at the wolf-man. She seemed intensely focused on him, particularly his interactions with the black-haired woman. Tanya smirked inwardly at the small soap opera unfolding before her. These people, despite their power and strange forms, were still prone to such human emotions. Petty jealousy and romantic rivalry. It was almost comforting to witness such normalcy in an otherwise alien world.

As the villagers continued their preparations, stacking wood and lighting fires, Tanya remained by the egg. She wasn't going anywhere. Whatever happened next, she would be here, watching, learning, and waiting for the next step in her strange new life .

The fire in the pit roared to life, and the scent of roasting meat grew stronger, causing her body to rumble again in hunger. Her stomach growled, reminding her that while she was no longer human, she still needed to eat. And soon, she would have to figure out what exactly her body crved.

But for now, she remained patient. The night was young, and there was much more to learn.

________________________

Midea observed the lively celebration from a distance, his face mostly unreadable, though the familiar sly smile played on his lips. The villagers were in high spirits, roaring with laughter and cheers, their recent victory over the Vampyrs still fresh in their minds. feasted and sang with abandon, the scent of roasting meat filling the air. Yet despite the apparent joy, Midea's mind was elsewhere, focused on the far more critical and dangerous developments unfolding in the shadows.

He swirled the dark, aromatic wine in his cup, the liquid catching the light of the roaring fire. His thoughts lingered on the eggs—the one that had hatched, now named Surya, and the unhatched one that pulsed with an ever-growing presence . The villagers had no idea how lucky—or unlucky—they were to have these Tyrannius beings among them. Surya was a child, yes, but she was far from innocent. He had seen it in her amethyst eyes, the cold, calculating light that shone far beyond her apparent age. The aura she gave off was not that of a child but of a predator.

As Midea took a sip of his wine, his eyes flicked to the fire where the villagers had gathered. Garran, the general of the clan, stood at the center of it, his powerful frame towering over most of the other warriors. His short brown hair was slicked with sweat from battle, his sharp emerald eyes gleaming as he exchanged playful jabs with Hati, the fiery redhead who was bouncing around him, her enthusiasm undimmed despite the long day of fighting.

Hati was relentless, her energy infectious as she egged Garran on, pulling him into the center of the warriors. She had a wild grin plastered on her face, her scarred brow only adding to the fierceness of her appearance. Her burnt orange eyes sparkled in the firelight, and her voice rang out louder than any of the others.

"Come now, Garran! It's tradition to sing after a victory, isn't it?" Hati shouted, her voice full of mischief.

"You made the damn song," Garran responded, though a grin tugged at his lips.

"And that's why I'm leading! Now stop being a sourpuss and sing with me!" Hati jabbed him in the ribs, earning a good-natured grunt from the wolf-man.

The other warriors began to gather around them, clapping and stomping their feet in rhythm. Midea watched with mild amusement as the entire village seemed to gather for the performance. This was an old tradition among the wolf-clans, singing war songs after a successful battle to honor the fallen and celebrate the victory.

Hati threw her head back, her red hair practically ablaze in the firelight, and began to sing, her voice powerful and full of passion:

"Stomp the bloodsuckers, crush their bones,

Tear their heads and claim our thrones!

Vampyrs dead, let the bodies rot,

Victory's ours, we take the lot!"

She sang with ferocity, her voice ringing out over the crackling flames. Garran, grinning now, joined in with the other warriors, their voices deep and booming as they responded:

"Fangs in the night, but we don't fear,

We sent those blood fiends far from here!

Claws like steel, but hearts of stone,

We cracked their skulls, now they moan!"

Hati spun around, her movements fluid and graceful despite the roughness of the song. She was in her element, commanding the attention of everyone around her. The warriors stomped their feet in unison, creating a thunderous beat that echoed through the night.

"Stomp the bloodsuckers, crush their bones,

Tear their heads and claim our thrones!

Vampyrs dead, let the bodies rot,

Victory's ours, we take the lot!"

Midea watched, his grin widening as the scene unfolded. The villagers, for all their primitive customs, had a certain charm. The raw energy and emotion in their celebrations were a stark contrast to the cold calculations constantly running through his mind. He couldn' t help but admire their spirit, though he knew it would only get them so far.

As the warriors continued to sing, they paired off, linking arms and stomping in time with the beat. Hati, however, stayed focused on Garran, spinning and twirling in front of him, her body flickering like the flames themselves. She was bold, far bolder than the other women in the village, her fiery nature reflected in her every movement. She practically danced circles around Garran, who, despite his best attempts to keep up, was clearly caught off guard by her energy.

"Drank our blood, but now they choke,

We lit the flames, and watched 'em smoke!

No more shadows, no more teeth,

We'll grind their bones beneath our feet!"

The song continued, the warriors chanting and jeering as the fire blazed higher. Midea chuckled to himself. This was the kind of moment he enjoyed—watching others let their guard down, revealing their true selves. Even Garran, who normally maintained a stoic demeanor , was swept up in the revelry. Hati, of course, was the spark that kept the flames burning.

But even as Midea enjoyed the scene, his attention was pulled away by the quieter interactions happening in the background. His sharp eyes caught the figure of Lain, the pale-skinned woman with the raven-black hair and striking blue eyes. She had been watching from the sidelines, her gaze lingering on Garran and Hati's playful banter. Midea had noticed her earlier—her beauty was undeniable, and her quiet presence stood in stark contrast to Hati's fiery energy.

After the song came to a close, with the final verse roaring through the air, the warriors cheered, clapping each other on the back. Garran, wiping the sweat from his brow, ruffled Hati's hair affectionately before turning back to Lain. Hati's grin faltered for just a moment as Garran walked past her, heading straight for Lain, who smiled softly at him. The flicker of jealousy that crossed Hati's face was unmistakable, and Midea, always observant, noted it with interest.

Hati was a force of nature, but she was not immune to the pangs of unrequited affection. Her feelings for Garran were painfully obvious, though whether the wolf-man was aware of them or simply ignoring them, Midea couldn't tell.

Meanwhile, Garran approached Lain, his demeanor softening as he spoke to her in low tones. She smiled up at him, her delicate features bathed in the moonlight. The contrast between the two women was striking—Hati, wild and fierce, while Lain was quiet, almost ethereal in her beauty. Midea couldn't help but wonder how this little drama would play out.

As the fire continued to roar, Midea turned his attention back to the child—Surya—who had been watching the entire display in silence. Her expression was neutral, her gaze unreadable. She hadn't joined in the celebrations which was expected as she was a child. But she hadn't shown much interest in the song either. But Midea knew better than to assume she was completely uninterested. She was watching, learning, and likely storing away every piece of information she could.

Midea took another sip of his wine as he mulled over his thoughts. These people had no idea what they were dealing with. Lord Satan knew the Tyrannius were monsters, and Surya was no exception. She might be small now, but going off her mother her potential was immense, and Midea wasn't foolish enough to think that she wouldn't grow into something far more dangerous than anyone could expect. But he would take it in stride. He was of the house of Valefor, his pride would not allow him to fail.

As the warriors began to settle back down, sharing food and drink around the fire, Midea's thoughts were interrupted by a familiar presence beside him. Chief Remus approached, his gaze focused on the village gate where a tall, thin man entered dragging a child by the hand. The man's figure was cast in shadow, his posture tense and wary.

"That's my brother, Remulus," Remus said quietly, his deep voice tinged with sorrow. "He used to be one of the strongest among us. But after the Vampyrs took his wife... he hasn't been the same. Only his child survived the attack but even he was quiet for months from the trauma."

Midea's eyes followed Remulus as he led the child away from the celebration, his form disappearing into the night. There was something off about him—something dark and familiar, though Midea couldn't quite place it.

"He's been using dark numen arts," Remus continued, his voice growing heavier. "Evil magic. And ever since, the attacks on our village have increased. I fear he may be the cause of it all."

Midea's interest was piqued. Such numen arts were dangerous, forbidden in many places, but incredibly powerful. The fact that Remulus had turned to such methods was troubling but also intriguing. It added another layer of complexity to the situation.

"You want me to investigate," Midea said, more a statement than a question.

Remus nodded. "Yes. I need to know if he's behind this, or if something darker is at play. I need answers, Midea."

Midea sipped his wine thoughtfully before replying, "And what of the accursed races? You mentioned them earlier."

Remus's expression darkened. "The accursed races are creatures born outside the light of the suns. Beings of darkness and shadow. They are mindless, soulless... monsters. They only exist to destroy and feed."

Midea nodded, though inwardly he felt a pang of skepticism. He had dealt with such beings before, mindless creatures that were often little more than tools for higher powers. But something about this situation felt different. These attacks were too coordinated, too deliberate. There was intelligence behind them, even if Remus didn't want to admit it.

"I'll look into it," Midea said finally, his eyes narrowing. "But be prepared. If your brother is involved... this won't end well."

Remus sighed deeply, his shoulders sagging slightly. "I know."

As Remus turned to rejoin the celebration, Midea's gaze lingered on the village pathway where Remulus had disappeared. There was something about that man, something deeply unsettling that nagged at the back of Midea's mind. He couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of something far more dangerous.

Taking another sip of his wine, Midea allowed a small, cold smile to cross his lips. The villagers had no idea what kind of storm was coming, but Midea did. And when it hit, he intended to be ready. He always was. He was a Scelus after all.