The air reeked of fire and death. Across the scorched room stood Arthur—arms relaxed, rage clinging to him like a second skin. His whole vibe screamed one thing: you're already too late.
Jake flexed, the bones under his skin cracking and twisting into place. "You shouldn't have come here," he growled. His voice sounded like it had been dragged through static and bass, layered with something... off.
Arthur cracked his knuckles and smirked. "You talk way too much."
Then—boom.
The whole room erupted. A blinding blast of heat and energy ripped through everything, flinging demons like toys. One second they were there, the next—gone. Ash.
Jake barely had time to react before Arthur's fist smashed into his ribs, launching him through a ruined skyscraper like a wrecking ball. Concrete exploded. Dust clouded the sky.
But Jake wasn't down for long. His body reknit itself fast. Bones snapped back. Muscles swelled. Pain barely registered.
He stepped out of the rubble, grin full of teeth. "Not bad."
His arms shifted—bone blades, jagged and brutal. He lunged.
Arthur moved like water. Calm. Sharp. Like he'd seen this fight before.
A knee to the gut. Jake gasped.
Arthur grabbed his face and drove him into the ground so hard the floor cratered. Skull cracked. Regrew.
Jake wheezed. "You're fast. Let's see what you do with this."
And then he changed.
His body turned into a nightmare. Extra limbs sprouted. A forest of bone grew from his back. Eyes opened where they shouldn't. He looked like a walking horror.
He went wild, swinging from every angle.
Arthur dodged—but it was getting tight. One slash caught his arm. It healed almost instantly.
Then—tendrils shot out. Wrapped around Arthur's leg. Dug in deep.
His smirk dropped.
Jake grinned. "Yeah. Feel that?"
The tendrils pumped some weird, destabilizing toxin into his system. Arthur's limbs slowed. His breath hitched.
He was losing ground.
"For once," Jake snarled, "you're the prey."
Arthur's eyes dimmed.
Then they flared.
A searing red light lit up behind them—not just rage. Pure wrath.
Heat pulsed off him.
Jake screamed.
The tendrils burned to nothing. The air caught fire. Arthur's skin glowed with heat—but he didn't burn. He was the fire.
"You—" Jake started.
Didn't finish.
Arthur unleashed a firestorm that hit like a miniature sun. Jake twisted, tried to shift, but he couldn't keep up.
Fist. Jaw. Knee. Gut. Palm. Skull.
Each hit landed before Jake could react. His regeneration couldn't keep up—the heat incinerated the cells before they healed.
Arthur stood over him, fists bleeding—but not from his own blood.
"You heal fast," he said, calm. "But you can't heal what's still burning."
Jake coughed, body shredded. "That... was fun."
Arthur scoffed. "You're lucky I'm not here to kill you."
He walked away.
Jake twitched in the crater.
Fight over.
War? Just starting.
The city smoldered.
Arthur walked through the wreckage, heat still radiating off him. Every step ached, but his head was clear.
Then—
"You're stronger than I expected. But reckless."
The voice came from nowhere. And everywhere.
A figure emerged from the smoke. Cloak made of weird, stitched-together fabrics—some looked like dried blood, others like they belonged in a museum.
Arthur tensed.
The figure's face was mostly hidden. But those faintly glowing violet eyes... and the ritual scars carved into their skin. Not fresh. Not healing. Just there.
"You made a mess," they said.
Arthur flexed his fingers. Flames curled. "You gonna say something useful, or just keep being cryptic?"
They stepped forward—didn't even make a sound.
"The Dark Clans are watching. You've got potential. But no direction. Power like yours? It eats people."
Arthur tilted his head. "So what, you here to kill me?"
A low chuckle. "Not yet. Others will try."
They drew symbols in the air with coiling shadows. The marks faded instantly.
"That thing you pulled off with Jake? That kind of noise doesn't go unnoticed."
Arthur didn't blink. "Let 'em come."
"Oh, they will."
The figure turned. Began to disappear into the haze. But just before fading out, they called back:
"When the real storm hits—you'll have to choose. Hunter or hunted."
Gone.
Arthur let out a breath. The air shimmered from heat.
He didn't know what that thing was.
But it didn't feel like a friend.
—
With Jake out of the picture, Arthur pushed deeper into the manor.
The place smelled like rot and old secrets. Every creaking board felt like it was warning him to turn back.
Then—
A figure.
Taller. Lean. Cold.
Silver hair. Crimson eyes. Armor that glowed faintly. No wasted motion. No expression.
"You got farther than I expected," the man said. "But you're bleeding. And your power? It's flickering."
Arthur rolled his shoulder. "Who are you?"
"Rael. But names don't matter once you're dead."
This guy wasn't like Jake. He wasn't wild.
He was clean. Calculated.
Arthur didn't have time for drawn-out fights.
Too bad he didn't get to choose.
Rael struck first.
Fist to the gut. Crack to the ribs.
Arthur staggered. Kicked—missed.
Rael smirked. "Too slow."
Then—
Time froze.
Arthur couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.
Rael circled him. Adjusted his stance.
Time resumed. SNAP.
Pain exploded in Arthur's shoulder. He howled.
Another hit—throat. Knee. Boot to the face.
Still—Arthur stood.
Rael raised a brow. "You really don't get it."
Time froze again.
Rael strolled over, calm as anything. Grabbed Arthur by the throat.
Then—shoved his hand straight through Arthur's chest.
Time resumed.
White-hot pain. Blood. Everything cold.
Arthur dropped.
So this is what dying feels like.
Then—
A flicker.
Then flame.
Not light.
Destruction.
Arthur's eyes snapped open.
Rael turned. The whole manor shook.
Time stopped.
Then shattered.
Arthur stood. Whole. Changed. His eyes burned like stars collapsing.
Rael stepped back. "That's... not possible."
The air ignited.
And the real fight?
Just got started.