Should I rescue immediately or figure out what's happening first? If I harbored any personal doubts about which was more crucial, "Purity" made its opinion quite clear, searing my palm with its icy chill. However, I didn't leap into action just yet. Judging by the overheard dialogue, the captive wasn't in immediate danger. At worst, if he woke up right now, he would be roughed up and subjected to a round of intimidation. Of course, getting beaten up is not the most pleasant prospect, but if I intervene and free the boy, who's to say it won't happen again in a week, or a month, or six months from now? Without understanding the true motives of the kidnappers, an immediate rescue could only offer temporary relief.

I concentrated on the cold sensation in my palm and sent a message to the wakizashi, trying to convey my thoughts to the snow-white blade. It only partially worked: the pain in my arm didn't vanish, but it didn't intensify either. It was as if the message could be interpreted as, "Proceed as you have decided, but remember, I am watching you!" Perhaps my interpretation of "Purity's" response was incorrect, but if that were the case, I would find out soon enough - if I was wrong, the pain would surge back the moment I left the shelter.

First, I checked the boy - the bandits had bound him with silver, fastening him to one of the beds. The lad had yet to regain consciousness and was left alone; they merely posted a couple of guards at the entrance to the room where he was being held. It seemed these people were seasoned in such undertakings. The entirety of the former shelter was now vacant, with no one present except for the bandits and the newly delivered boy. But the marks on the walls suggested that prisoners were frequently held here. Moreover, one of the rooms in the shelter had been converted into a torture chamber: a rack, a metal chair bolted to the floor, and an iron table bearing all too familiar tools… Regardless of how things play out today, this place must be purged and then turned over to the authorities or overseers. On this matter, "Purity" and I were in agreement.

Upon assessing the situation once more, I realized that despite the rather ominous location, there was no immediate threat to the captive. The unconscious fellow would lay there for another hour or more, untouched until he regained consciousness. At least, that was the directive of the local boss when instructing his minions. I hoped that within this time frame, I could at least grasp what was going on and return. Seemingly, "Purity" took my thoughts as a satisfactory compromise and the pain in my left palm subsided. It hadn't completely disappeared, but it had diminished significantly, lingering as a throbbing reminder in the background.

It felt like it had been no more than a minute since the "doctor" left the hideout, but when I stepped through the door, the corridor was empty. I had to hasten my steps and almost missed him. I discovered the "doctor" behind the hangar - he had vanished behind some containers and somehow procured a fresh set of clothes - a workman's overalls, the kind worn by dockers, and he was hurriedly changing into them. Moreover, he did it at an impressive speed, within thirty seconds or so. He then folded his old clothes into a battered duffel bag, slinging it over his shoulder. The "doctor" proceeded to remove some silicon tabs from his mouth and, running his hand over his head, took off his wig. Ten seconds later, a man who bore no resemblance to the "doctor" except in height emerged from behind the containers.

Had I tarried in the hideout for another minute, I wouldn't have suspected the man casually strolling towards the port area's exit to be the one I was after. This "doctor" was indeed a master of disguise. Unpleasant memories of Eshin immediately sent a twinge under my shoulder blade. Could he be one of the covert operatives from the dismantled clan? Recalling that some rats could sense the proximity of raigs, I swiftly distanced myself from this faux-doctor.

The already perplexing abduction took a turn for the incomprehensible. Why all this trouble? Why this level of secrecy? When the "doctor" gave instructions to the gang leader, I had roughly deduced why the boy was taken. It was to show him that he was helpless without the clan and that his rejection of joining them was a grave error. Simple, primal, effective. But this theory left no room for such conspiracy and meticulous cover-up.

Meanwhile, the person I was observing sauntered out into the parking lot and climbed into a battered, well-used sedan of a popular brand. There were hundreds of similar cars scattered around the port parking lot, a typical vehicle for an ordinary worker.

Once it hit the highway, the car with the "doctor" at the helm, abiding by every traffic rule in the book, headed towards the eastern residential districts. It was relatively easy to tail, given that the main traffic flow at that time was traveling in the opposite direction. The car didn't weave through the city but instead moved in a steady, straight line. It was as if the driver had no concerns about checking for potential followers. Considering his recent transformation, this behavior didn't align with the image of the "doctor" I had formed in my mind. No sooner had I pondered this, the car swerved off the highway and pulled into the parking lot of an enormous supermarket. After parking, the kidnapper exited the car, leaving his bag of clothes in the trunk, and made his way into the store. Having nearly lost him previously, I kept my eyes glued to him this time around.

My unwavering focus was the only thing that prevented me from losing sight of the "doctor." The shapeshifter entered the outerwear department and, after aimlessly wandering among the racks and hangers, momentarily disappeared from my view. By the time I decided to risk exposure and moved closer, I caught the tail end of another redressing. This time, the "doctor" had plucked a gray striped suit from a hanger and changed into it in a mere ten seconds, without even stepping into a fitting room. What initially surprised me, then impressed me, was how he strolled out of the store entirely unfazed, with no security alarms being set off. Since I hadn't seen him remove any tags from the suit, it was likely that this attire had been prepped in advance for this very switch. Meaning, he must have visited earlier and left this inconspicuous suit hanging there, probably this morning or yesterday just before closing, ensuring that no one else would buy it.

Before exiting the apparel section, the shapeshifter swapped out his lenses, altering the hue of his eyes, and sprayed his head with a mystery canister that turned his hair grey. The result of these modifications was that a middle-level manager in a rush left the supermarket, not a docker weary from a grueling shift. I was hardly surprised when he returned to the parking lot and got into a completely different car from the one he'd arrived in.

The kidnapper maneuvered unpredictably this time, sporadically changing direction, speed, and occasionally coming to a complete stop, seemingly using these tactics to gauge if he was being tracked. However, his journey was relatively short, lasting no longer than fifteen minutes. After that, the "doctor" exited his vehicle in a hardware store parking lot and moved into a sizeable black SUV.

If Eshin's fragments were indeed behind the boy's abduction, I should avoid approaching the shapeshifter, but there was someone else in the SUV he'd entered. If I kept my distance, I risked missing something crucial. So, after considering the risks, I decided to approach the SUV even before the car door had a chance to close behind the pseudo-doctor.

Apart from the "doctor," there was another individual in the cabin. The driver, a rather stout man appearing to be in his fifties, had a dignified sprinkle of grey in his whiskers. Despite seeming slightly overweight, he left a pleasant impression. Also, his aura suggested he belonged to the clansmen; however, this detail did not surprise me.

"How did it go?" the robust man queried, ceasing his finger drumming on the steering wheel as soon as the "doctor" had settled into the seat next to him.

"On one hand, according to plan," the kidnapper began, pausing briefly before continuing somewhat reluctantly, "on the other hand, there were complications."

"When you phrase it like that, Gumm, my mind conjures up rather unpleasant scenarios," the man behind the wheel shrugged his hefty shoulders. "Just lay it out straight. We've got time to spare," he glanced at his watch.

"As you wish, my patriarch," the man recently addressed as Gumm dipped his head in deference.

Patriarch? Among shapeshifters, this term is typically reserved for the most formidable fighters who have achieved total control over their inner beast, or for the heads of clans. However, using "my patriarch" seemed more fitting for a conversation with a family leader.

"The mercenaries performed flawlessly, with one exception," the faux-doctor continued. "Eliza Mott." The patriarch grimaced at the mention of this name, as though it triggered deep-seated irritation. "She didn't suspect she'd been poisoned, and when she fell ill, we intercepted the call. We timed the arrival of our ambulance to coincide with Tedd's return from his run. After that, I spoke to the boy and convinced him..."

"Was it truly necessary for you to be personally involved?" His interlocutor interrupted the narration. "I asked you to handle this matter through someone else if possible."

"If possible..." Gumm responded, his voice devoid of any remorse. "I believed that direct interaction with Tedd was a delicate aspect of the plan, and the involvement of simple mercenaries could have jeopardized the entire operation at this stage. The boy, despite his youth, is rather perceptive for his age, and our tribal instinct for danger... it's fully active in him."

"I've read your report on the lad," the patriarch nodded, gesturing for Gumm to continue.

"Everything was progressing as planned, but then Eliza's condition suddenly worsened. She already had significant health issues, and I had to urgently alter our route."

"How severe was it?"

"A stroke," Gumm gritted out. "Apparently, the mercenary who spiked her sleeping pills miscalculated something, or there was a conflict with her existing medication..."

"Clean up that mess!" The patriarch growled, then continued in a more composed manner. "I have no love for Eliza, but she bore one of us, and whoever harmed her..."

"I understand," the 'doctor' nodded in agreement.

"And how will the boy be affected by the loss of his mother?"

"If he suspects we are behind it, the consequences could be dire."

"You're looking at this from the wrong angle. If he suspects our involvement in his kidnapping... He'll be lost to us regardless, more likely to follow his father's path than join the clan."

"I still believe we rushed into this; if I had been given three or four more days to prepare..."

"We didn't have those days," the patriarch growled in response. "There was too great a risk that your brother would have discovered he has a son by then. We need Tedd's consent to join the clan before his father stakes a claim on the boy! And you haven't answered my question."

"Eliza will likely require full-time medical supervision now, home care is out of the question," Gumm explained. "We could turn this to our advantage. The boy won't be able to take care of his mother alone, we could use that to our benefit." Having completed his explanation, the 'doctor' shifted the topic. "Don't take this as disrespect, but I still don't understand the urgency. You've only assumed the leadership role three days ago, and such a drastic move could be seen as..."

"Gumm!" The patriarch growled again. "You were the one who brought me the documents concealed in my father's safe. You've read them, don't deny it - I know you did. Given that, do I really need to explain the predicament we're in?"

"That's true, but..."

"But what?!" The shapeshifter squeezed the steering wheel so tightly that the plastic cracked. "The number of men with our awakened bloodline has been on the decline for three generations! We were told that there were promising young men among the offspring of our concubines, young men on the verge of awakening their bloodline... And? Where are they? Out of the forty-plus concubines our clan has paid for, only one's child has awakened his blood! And what then? He refused to join us! And the elders? They swallowed it! They believe he'll change his mind, he'll return. And this is despite the potential leak of documents which could let his renegade father know he has a son."

"I don't think my brother..." Gumm began, but was cut off immediately.

"You think?! Who gives a damn?! You know who he serves and what resources he has. He can stake a claim for his son and, most importantly, defend those rights! You've seen Tedd's blood tests - he's clean, and the curse placed on our family three generations ago hasn't touched him. We need him! Without him... when our generation, yours and mine, is gone, the whole family will vanish with us."

"But through the girls, we can..."

"We can't! My father has also exhausted the tribal diplomatic options! Many influential families have already begun to suspect our weakening. Without fresh blood, we'll be swallowed whole."

"We are one of the wealthiest clans in Novilter, and our financial resources are virtually limitless..."

"'I will buy everything,' said Gold. 'I'll take everything,' said Steel." The patriarch let out a sigh at these words. "Think bigger, Gumm, think bigger."

"I'll talk to my brother. Now that your father is gone..."

"It won't change anything. Your brother has sworn a personal vassal oath to another family," the elder retorted. "We were also in a rush because he wasn't in the city and wouldn't be back for a few days."

"And also because the Sherst clan has been significantly weakened due to the recent port area cleanup by the heir."

"Those rats got too big for their britches when they dared to cross our path several times," the patriarch nodded. "And now, when a young man who awakened our blood is on their territory and even in captivity, our hands are untied. How are your people?"

"Ready. In half an hour, the clan's special forces will take all the necessary positions, and we'll be able to strike."

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

"By then, the rats will have given the boy a beating, making him more compliant." For the first time in the conversation, the patriarch allowed himself a smile. "Moreover, the lad will feel indebted to us for his 'rescue'."

"If we'd had more time to prepare, I..."

"Gumm!" The patriarch's growl was so fierce it made the car windows tremble, cutting off his companion. "I permit your objections and allow you to address me in such a tone only because I have no children of my own, and you're now the family heir. But remember your place."

"My apologies, patriarch," the 'doctor' nodded in deference.

"Only you and I know about this operation, that our clan orchestrated the boy's kidnapping." He wasn't suspecting he was wrong about that. "To everyone else, the boy was kidnapped for a ransom and we tracked down the culprits, delivering retribution. That's the story for everyone, but most importantly, that's how it has to appear to Tedd and... and to your brother, if he ever discovers his son and starts digging into this story! As much as it infuriates you, Gumm, I remind you that your brother surpassed you in every way. In every single way..."

"He was better, patriarch, but not by much," the 'doctor' responded, his voice devoid of any emotion to the harsh words.

"Ha!" The patriarch slapped his companion's shoulder with a smile. "At forty, you've finally come to terms with it. That's progress."

"I've always loved Ohrin!"

"That didn't stop you from seething with anger to the point of practically smoking at the ears whenever your brother's name was mentioned," the clan head remarked, clearly amused.

"After I learned about our family's dire state, I started to see many things differently," Gumm admitted, lowering his head.

"Are we ready?"

"We can begin."

With that, the patriarch started the engine.

I had suspected something was off about the shapeshifter boy's kidnapping, but after overhearing their conversation, I was thrown for a loop. I followed the SUV on autopilot, mulling over my next move. To be honest, I would've preferred if "Purity" had made the decision and compelled me to take a specific action. But the infernal blade, as soon as the situation became more complicated than a simple "black and white" scenario, seemed to retreat.

I could act as the "knight in shining armor", rescue the boy, and reveal who was behind his abduction. A "noble and righteous act" that would lead to the downfall of an entire clan. I couldn't care less about these folks, but being the one who essentially condemns an entire clan to extinction... It was at this thought that "Purity" stopped interfering with my actions.

The second option was to step back, merely ensuring that the boy wasn't killed or harmed in this chaos. Regardless of how much I understood the clan's motives or sympathized with their predicament, their methods were, to put it mildly, not to my liking. My internal principles wouldn't allow me to step back and let everything unfold without intervention.

Another challenge is that a solitary, clanless shapeshifter quickly becomes a target. In truth, if Tedd decides to remain unaffiliated, his options are limited. He'll either join an organization, pledge personal vassalage to a powerful individual, or become a pawn in someone else's game. Moreover, once word gets out about the sorry state of the panda clan, the boy could be used as a means of blackmail. Or even more likely, if clans hostile towards pandas learn that he is their only hope for reproduction, they might just kill him. Silently, nonchalantly. And that is not an outcome I wish to see for Tedd.

The third option is to bring the boy to his father, Ohrin, whom I am somewhat familiar with. Ohrin is a significant figure in the capital's politics, serving as the personal police curator for the heir. Naturally, he would be able to ensure not only his son's safety but also secure his future. This option seems the most fair, but it would also mean the end of the panda clan. However, the clan does not represent the entirety of the species, and in this case, the red pandas, as a species of shapeshifters, will not vanish from the world entirely.

Or, I could genuinely step back from making this decision. After all, it's not my life. I could lay out the situation for the boy and let him decide. The issue is, I think I know what he'll choose. He'll seek revenge on his clan for worsening his mother's health. Yes, they might deserve this retribution. That's true, but what would that lead to? Everyone loses. Loss and extinction in the name of justice. If I were eighteen, I might steer my "Word" in this direction because it's "just"! But I'm not eighteen anymore...

"Purity! Ahoy! Where are you?! Can you compel me to act? Divest me of this burden of choice!" Yet, the wakizashi remains silent as a fish, as though it's just a simple sword and not a fragment of another's soul.

While I was lost in thought, events continued to unfold. Short Gumm's coded orders over the radio led the battle groups into position. It seems that freeing Tedd was only a minor part of the operation. The pandas planned to crush the local faction of the trash rat clan, their adversaries, under the guise of a formal pretext. And the fact that they orchestrated this pretext themselves, if used against them, still needs to be proven.

Naturally, the pandas should have alerted the police instead of organizing this "rescue" operation themselves. But, at the same time, according to ancient traditions, clans are allowed to take "justice" into their own hands. In reality, if the operation goes smoothly and there are no third-party casualties, the worst the pandas will face is a fine and formal censure. Novilter may be a progressive state, but one must not forget that its society is fundamentally class-based.

Moreover, I wouldn't be opposed if the pharmacist clan further thins out the capital's criminal gangs. It would simply make life easier for the citizens. As for the rats, part of whose business involves captivity and torture, I have no doubt that they deserve punishment.

However, no matter how much I try to persuade myself, I cannot remain a mere spectator. I feel a strange, perhaps illogical, sense of responsibility for the fate of the shapeshifter boy.

After eavesdropping enough to learn that the pandas planned to simultaneously attack all rat clan locations, and having discovered the time the operation would begin, I left the SUV and quickly headed to the old port area in Sliding.

Regrettably, I didn't have time to run to my hideouts or even change into something that would conceal my face. So, I will need to act with extreme caution, preferably without leaving the Break at all. Technically, it wouldn't be difficult – I could knock everyone out in the bunker using Shock Sword. However, it would also reveal the involvement of a Break Knight, and I'm still undecided whether that's a good or bad thing.

As I sprinted through the dark corridor and passed via the shelter door, I came upon a sight that stirred "Purity" once again. Apparently, Tedd had regained consciousness far earlier than Gumm had anticipated. By this point, the boy had been beaten up, and now two hired rats were dragging him back to his cell, his face marred by a broken nose and bruises. He tried to resist, but with silver handcuffs restraining him, he couldn't escape the grasp of the strong men. Additionally, the overseeing shapeshifter was watching closely, ready to subdue Tedd should he manage to break free.

"Purity" urged me to intervene, but this time its insistence was weaker, and I managed to resist. There was no chilling coldness like when the wakizashi compelled me to chase after the ambulance. So, gritting my teeth, I ignored the snow-white blade's plea.

All it would take is five steps and a couple of swings of "Word", and the boy would be free. However, a sudden thought halts me. If I were to free the boy, he would be like a bag of potatoes, kidnapped by one person's decision and released by another's, with no agency of his own. Given his current psychological state, it wouldn't be easy for him. So, I have a small plan. Only if that plan fails will I resort to clearing out this place from the Break.

The boy was tossed onto a bunk, shackled to the wall; the barred door was shut behind him. The shapeshifter, keys in hand, made his way to the torture chamber. A pair of escorts shot a glance at each other, waved nonchalantly to the cell guards, then sauntered off to rejoin their card game with comrades. It was understandable, given there was no chance the boy could escape the bunker, especially when bound in steel and silver. So why bother guarding him? These bandits were not soldiers, after all, and they had their own unique take on discipline.

I found this situation rather to my liking. After confirming the corridor outside the cell was deserted, I slinked into the torture chamber. The rat shapeshifter was meticulously cleaning his tools in a slow, seemingly pleasurable manner. Once I was certain the remaining bandits were engrossed in their game, I drew my "Word" and, setting the blade to shock mode, struck the shapeshifter. He was high on something, so I banked on my blow knocking him out for a while. My gamble paid off. As soon as "Word" had made its mark, I exited the Break and caught the falling body just in time to avoid any loud thuds. I laid the unconscious shapeshifter on the floor and shifted back to Projection, peeking out into the corridor. It was still empty, with no one rushing to aid the leader.

I was confident the shapeshifter sprawled at my feet was up to his elbows, if not shoulders, in blood-soaked crimes. However, since I hadn't personally witnessed his atrocities, I chose not to kill him. Besides, the special forces of the panda clan were due to storm this place and clean it up soon, so why should I sully my hands?

If it weren't for the limitations the Break placed on us raigs, everything would be much simpler. Unfortunately, I couldn't just snatch the keys from the unconscious leader's belt and transport them into the Break. Since these keys weren't mine, and nobody had granted me the rights to use them, they'd simply drop to the floor as soon as I became a Projection. Occasionally, such restrictions, while sensible in everyday life, can be quite inconvenient, as was the case here.

First, I grabbed a roll of wide bandages from the table and wrapped them around my head. A mediocre disguise, but it would divert a casual glance. I then took the keys from the shapeshifter's belt and, without transitioning into the Break, peeked into the corridor. It remained deserted. Treading lightly to avoid making a noise, I advanced cautiously. The rest of the thugs had congregated in one of the rooms, engrossed in some form of gambling game. This worked in my favor, as their cursing and swearing drowned out any noise I might have made. On the flip side, had they noticed me, I could have simply entered the Break and knocked them all out instantly, so I wasn't really taking a risk. Even if things didn't go as planned, there was no real danger - this was what you might call a "side quest."

Approaching the cell where the boy was confined, I listened intently. As expected, despite his injuries, the lad hadn't given up and was trying to escape. Naturally, all his attempts to free himself through brute strength were futile. The owners of the bunker had been in this business for years and knew all the ins and outs of keeping captives.

Positioning myself against the wall so that I was out of the cell's line of sight while keeping an eye on the corridor, I took out the keys and lightly tapped them against the bars. Naturally, the faint jingling instantly caught the boy's attention. He ceased his fruitless efforts to pry the chain from the wall. I wasn't concerned that he might later recognize me by my scent - the boy typically wore nasal filters during his runs to block out the city's odors, and today was no exception.

"What do you want from me..." Tedd voiced in a low tone, his words seemingly forced through clenched teeth. He sounded exhausted but not defeated.

However, I didn't let him finish, cutting him off with my urgent whisper:

"Quiet! Catch the keys!" I slid the bundle across the floor towards his cot.

"Who are you?"

"No questions! I've done my part. The shapeshifter who was guarding you has been dealt with. Now it's your turn: stay in the cell if you want, or fight for your freedom."

"I don't..."

"Don't shout! I need to leave!"

"Who are you?" The boy asked again, picking up the keys.

I didn't respond to his question. After unwinding the bandages, I removed them from my head and tossed them into an adjacent empty cell, then transitioned into the Break. Once in the Projection, I observed the boy's actions.

Tedd softly called out to me a few more times, but upon receiving no response, he stared at the keys as if they were a venomous snake that had suddenly landed in his hands. Clearly, his recent abduction had left him viewing everything with heightened paranoia. That's fine, paranoia, while it significantly frazzles the nerves, also tends to prolong life, so it could prove beneficial for him.

He gave the chains binding him a quick glance, sighed, and started toying with the keys in his hand. His entire demeanor seemed to silently ask, "What do I have to lose if I give it a shot?" Quietly, he selected the correct key and unlocked his shackles. Then he rose from his bunk, tip-toed over to the barred door, and tried to peek down the corridor. His attempt was unsuccessful, so he paused to listen intently, standing still for nearly a quarter of a minute, but all he could hear were the distant profanities of the bandits.

With slightly shaking hands, he fumbled with the key bundle and carefully unlocked his cell door. He pushed it open but didn't immediately dart out. Instead, he stepped back from the bars, leaned against the wall, and closed his eyes. He held this position briefly, then stripped off his clothes down to his underwear and raised his hands. A wave of tremors instantly swept through his body, morphing into ripples. Clearly, the boy's control over shifting was still very weak, and what would take an adult shapeshifter merely a second, took him half a minute.

This was the first time I had observed the shifting process so closely, able to scrutinize every detail. There was nothing repugnant about it: it was smooth, somehow natural, even beautiful. The human form didn't rupture to release the inner beast. Instead, it seemed to fluidly transition from human to animal, akin to a serene sea wave washing ashore and reshaping the coastal sand. I watched, realizing that from a scientific perspective - biology, chemistry, and other natural laws - such a transformation was simply impossible. I understood this, yet since I was witnessing it with my own eyes, I had no choice but to admit that my understanding of nature's laws was far from exhaustive. However, one natural law was still followed during the transformation - the law of conservation of mass. A shapeshifter, in beast form, couldn't weigh less or more than they did in their human form.

Tedd was not a large specimen, barely reaching sixty-five kilograms. I'd seen giant pandas in zoos; adult males of this species could weigh up to a hundred and fifty kilograms. Compared to them, the beastly form that the guy had adopted was not at all large. But it was infinitely more dangerous than an enraged adult bear. This wasn't merely because, upon transforming into their animal form, shapeshifters become stronger and faster than not only their human selves, but also outperform their "progenitor" beast in these aspects. What truly set them apart from animals was that shapeshifters, despite their transformation, retained their cognitive abilities. True, they were more susceptible to their bestial instincts and easily succumbed to anger or even rage, but they retained their ability to think.

With a resonating growl, the red panda picked up the keys in his teeth and nudged the bars with his paw. He sniffed around. The fur on his neck bristled. I wondered where he would head next - to the exit, or?

As it turned out, it wasn't to the exit. Tedd, in his animal form, didn't seem conflicted at all. Having apparently sniffed out the ones who had imprisoned him, he darted in their direction. He ran silently, lifting his paws high; animals didn't move like that. He didn't growl and, overall, made hardly any noise. The only indication of his fury was the foam bubbling between his bared teeth.

The sudden appearance of a shapeshifter in animal form took the rat mercenary guards by surprise. A couple of them, who were sitting closer to the entrance of the room, were killed before they could even comprehend their attacker. The beast that Tedd had become showed no restraint; a swift swipe of his front paws left two bodies with snapped necks slumping lifelessly in their chairs.

Before the dead could hit the floor, the bear had leapt onto the gaming table. His right paw swung in a wide arc, razor-sharp claws tearing through the artery of the nearest man. Simultaneously, his gaping mouth ripped through the throat of the gangster sitting at the head of the table. Only then, seemingly in slow motion, did the remaining thugs start to react. One reached for a pistol, another for a silver-coated club; the smartest of them, knocking over a chair, bolted towards the exit. This "quick-thinking" man was the next to meet his end; his spine snapped under a powerful blow from the panda's hind legs, and his lifeless body was sent flying into the corridor.

I've always thought of pandas as adorable, charming, and gentle creatures. But now... If anything haunts my dreams, it's mottled fur tinged with a faint hint of red - fur soaked in human blood.

In the confined space of the room, the gangsters, though seasoned and armed, didn't stand a chance against an enraged shapeshifter in beast form. A swing of the paw, blood splattering the walls. A growl, and sharp teeth yanked a pistol from someone's hands, taking fingers along with it. A roar, the crunching of bones. Another swipe, and someone else's skull exploded like an overripe melon.

If I were witnessing this carnage in the real world, it would turn my stomach. Even me, the one who'd carried the wounded off battlefields, the one who'd seen a man torn apart by a mortar explosion. My Projection was the only thing shielding me from the gruesome sight.

And the most astonishing part... "Purity" not only remained silent - it condoned these murders! Had the gangsters imprisoned the boy against his will? Yes. Had they tortured him? Yes. So he was justified in seeking retribution!

It was this reaction from the snow-white blade that left me frozen in shock, not the bloodbath the boy had unleashed. By the time I came to my senses, it was too late to stop him. Nine bodies lay mutilated in less than fifteen seconds.

I surveyed the blood, the severed hands, the discarded fingers on the floor, and a single thought pounded in my brain: "Why did I even bother to save this shapeshifter?" Even if this shapeshifter was just a sixteen-year-old boy...